Chapter 4

The stone door slammed in the dark with a boom, as if intent on swallowing me whole.

I sank to the floor. My fingers traced the shackles; my mouth curved in a bleak line.

—Nicely played, Lyra. But if Black Paw really has crept back into the North, who will their fangs sink into first?

Night deepened. The door creaked open. Torchlight threw a slim silhouette onto the walls—Lyra.

She smiled, soft and triumphant. “Aria, are you blaming me?”

She dropped the pretense, looking down at me with gentle pity. “I’m the Luna candidate now. Even if you and Damian are Fate Mates, what does it matter? He loves me. He cast you aside. Even the people you protected want you gone—better you die than drag them down.”

I met her gaze, indifferent. “Proud, are you? Pity stolen love never lasts.”

Her face flickered. Before she could retort, the door crashed again. Damian filled the doorway.

Lyra recoiled and lifted moist eyes. “Damian… I was worried about Aria, so I came to see her.”

My smile went razor‑thin. “Worried? Please be honest: celebrating that you drove me into a cell.”

His eyes were black ice. “Aria, still don’t repent.”

I held his gaze. “Repent? To you? You don’t deserve it.”

Lyra seized his arm, tears bright. “Don’t blame her. She’s just upset…”

“Enough.” My voice cut through hers. “Your tears are your best disguise. Damian may be blind; I’m not.”

His face went dark. Breath heaved in his chest; anger brimmed. “Remember what you said today,” he bit out. “You brought this on yourself.”

Then—without giving Lyra time to react—he bent and crushed his mouth to hers.

Air froze. Their fused shapes, gleaming in torchlight, stabbed at my eyes.

When he lifted his head, his stare speared me. “I declare Lyra my only Luna candidate.”

The shackles were cold. My heart was colder.