Lyra
It’s hard to beat the view of the sunrise over the open ocean. A deep, nearly red mist covers the horizon, so thick it seems to obscure half the bright yellow sun. Above that layer, the color softens into a burnt orange, then it fades to light tangerine before bursting into a field of lemon, just under the blue sky.
Waves crash against the Ironhawk with splashes of mist filtering up, some wetting my hands as I grip the railing.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
I turn away from the ocean view with a smile, admiring the strong arms and muscular physique of the Alpha King—my Alpha King—standing in front of me. “It’s too lovely out here to miss this,” I tell Cassian.
He nods, handing me a stoneware mug steaming with my favorite, green tea and cinnamon. He wraps his now-free arm around
