THE EMBER OF THE NINTH TAIL

The last thing Lyra Thorne felt was the bite of cold steel and the even colder realization that her life had been a lie. As the poison from Julian’s blade clouded her vision, she saw her sister, Elara, leaning over her, eyes dancing with a cruel, triumphant light. ​"Don't worry, sister," Elara had whispered, her voice a silk ribbon strangling Lyra’s last breath. "I’ll take excellent care of your crown. And your husband." ​Then, darkness. A vast, echoing silence where time felt like water. ​Gasp. ​Lyra’s eyes snapped open. She wasn't lying on the freezing stone of the palace dungeons. She was sitting upright in a plush, velvet-backed chair. The air didn't smell of damp earth and blood; it smelled of expensive jasmine and beeswax. ​"My Lady? You’ve gone quite still. Is the corset too tight?" ​Lyra’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. she looked into the vanity mirror. A younger, unscarred version of herself stared back. Her skin was luminous, her hair pinned up with pearls. There were no dark circles under her eyes from years of psychological warfare. ​She looked down at her hands. They were trembling, but they were whole. ​"The date," Lyra rasped, her voice sounding foreign to her ears. "Mina, what is the date?" ​The maid blinked, confused. "Why, it’s the fourteenth of Mid-Summer, My Lady. The night of your engagement banquet. Are you feeling quite well?" ​The fourteenth. Three years ago. The very night she had pledged her soul to a monster. ​A wave of nausea hit her, followed by a searing, white-hot rage. Fate had given her a second chance, or perhaps she was in hell, forced to relive her greatest mistake. Either way, she would not be the lamb tonight. ​"I’m fine, Mina," Lyra said, her voice stabilizing into something sharper, like a whetted stone. "But we’re changing the dress. Bring me the crimson silk. The one Julian said was 'too bold' for a future princess." ​"But My Lady, the Prince prefers you in white—" ​"The Prince," Lyra said, standing up and catching her own gaze in the glass, "is about to learn that I am no longer interested in what he prefers."