Lyra froze at the sheer terror flickering in Seraphina's eyes, unsure whether it was genuine or just another mask the queen wore so well.
Before she could move, a strong arm slid around her from behind, pulling her back into a chest that radiated heat and unshakable strength.
"Enough, Mother." Casian's voice cut through the charged air—low, cold, and dangerous. "You've crossed every line there is."
His grip on Lyra was unyielding, a living barrier between her and the venom in the room. But he felt it—the subtle tremor in her shoulders, the hitch in her breath, the faint, broken sob she tried to swallow. Something sharp and ugly coiled in his chest at the sound.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed, her spine stiff with indignation. "I've crossed the line?" Her tone dripped with scorn. "No, Casian. You lit this blaze. You hurl accusations like daggers just to prove yourself right—never mind who bleeds for it."
