Kael woke to the scent of fire-cooked herbs and something sharp — sweet, earthy.
His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the warm glow of Lyra's cave. The stone walls flickered with rune-light, the air thick with quiet magic and steam.
She was crouched near the fire again, stirring a pot with precise, graceful movements. Her long braid was tossed over one shoulder, strands of silver-blonde hair escaping around her face. She didn't look at him, but he could feel her awareness wrap around him like a net.
She always knew when he was watching.
"You're awake again," she said simply.
"I would've woken up sooner," Kael murmured, voice still rough with sleep, "but I figured you enjoyed having me unconscious and quiet."
Lyra didn't look up. "It was the most peaceful two hours I've had in weeks."
He chuckled softly. "Careful. That almost sounded like flirting."
"Devils confuse sarcasm for affection," she said, tasting the broth with a carved spoon. "That explains your love life."
Kael pushed himself up, his body sore but already healing. The hellfire in his blood knit wounds quickly — too quickly, sometimes. Pain reminded him he was still alive.
He stretched, aware of how her eyes flicked toward him, then quickly away.
"You're a bit of a contradiction," he said, watching her with open interest. "Cold voice. Warm hands. You patch me up, then threaten to set me on fire."
"I never said I was kind," Lyra replied.
"No," Kael said, standing slowly, "but you're not cruel, either."
A brief pause.
She turned to him now, finally meeting his gaze. "You don't know me."
He took a step closer. "I'm trying to."
She held his gaze, unmoving.
It was strange. He'd stared into the eyes of warlords, assassins, politicians who poisoned their own planets. But Lyra's stare — calm, sharp, glowing faintly from within — unsettled him more than any of them.
Not because it was dangerous.
But because it saw him.
They ate in silence.
Kael watched her, curious. She used only her fingertips to lift the carved bowl, cradling it like something sacred. He mimicked her movements, but far less gracefully. The stew was rich and strange — root vegetables and meat he couldn't name, simmered with spices that bit the tongue.
He made a face after the first bite.
"You used shadowroot," he said.
"You can taste that?" she asked, surprised.
Kael gave a lazy smile. "I was raised in fire palaces. We ate everything that didn't eat us first."
Lyra raised a brow. "Didn't peg you as a royal brat."
He leaned back, stretching out long legs in front of him. "Prince of Sector Nox. Firstborn of House Dravon. Expected to conquer six systems before I turned thirty." He glanced at her. "I only managed four. Huge disappointment."
She didn't laugh — but her lips twitched.
Kael tilted his head. "Your turn."
"For what?"
"To tell me who you really are."
She set her bowl down.
Silence thickened.
"My name is Lyra Virelle. I'm not from here. I was once part of a hidden order. One that used magic to heal… and to protect. Until the Empire called us dangerous."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Let me guess. They burned it all down."
She nodded once. "What they couldn't burn, they hunted. I've been running ever since."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, "You shouldn't have to run."
Lyra blinked. The words caught her off guard.
No one had said that to her in years. Most people told her to stay hidden, stay small, stay safe.
But Kael said it like a challenge. Like he saw her power and dared her to use it.
"I don't want pity," she said, a little too sharply.
"I wasn't offering it," he replied. "I just hate cowards who fear what they don't understand."
She looked at him then — really looked.
Maybe there was more to him than war stories and wicked grins.
Maybe.
Later, she showed him where the underground spring ran through the far side of the cavern. Kael dipped his fingers into it, marveling at how it shimmered with soft blue light.
"It's warm," he murmured.
"Healing waters," Lyra said. "Connected to an ancient leyline."
He looked back at her. "How did you find this place?"
"I didn't," she said. "It found me."
There was something heavy in her voice. Grief unspoken. A story untold.
He didn't push.
Instead, he stood, water dripping from his fingers.
"I'll leave soon," he said quietly.
Lyra's eyes flickered to him.
"I didn't ask you to," she replied.
"But you want me to."
She didn't deny it.
Kael stepped closer. Just a breath away. Her scent wrapped around him — soft like night flowers and ozone. Her magic hummed beneath her skin.
"You said I glow when I'm angry," she whispered.
He nodded. "You do."
She lifted her chin. "What do I do when I'm not?"
Kael smiled. Not his usual smirk — but something softer.
"You shimmer."
A long silence.
He didn't touch her. He didn't need to.
The heat between them said enough.
That night, Lyra couldn't sleep again.
But not because of fear.
This time, it was something else keeping her awake.
Something golden-eyed and dangerous.
And far too close.