LYRA . . . Lucas fidgeted with the napkin in his lap, avoiding direct eye contact with me. Across from him, I sat poised, silver hair cascading over my shoulders, my expression unreadable. He cleared his throat, trying to gather some piece of his usual charming confidence. “You look amazing tonight, Lyra. I know I already said it, but… I mean it.” “Thanks,” I replied politely, offering a thin but genuine smile. Lucas sighed. “Look, I owe you an apology—for everything. How we started. For calling you dirty blood and an abomination. And most of all, for being an absolute jerk on your first day. I get it now. I should’ve tried to understand you instead of judging you. I let my customs get in the way.” I tilted my head slightly, studying his face, trying to read his sincerity. “That w

