Lyra's POV
Papa's scream echoes off the prison walls before I even see him.
The guard shoves me forward and I stumble down stone steps that smell like rot and fear. My book falls from my hands and tumbles into the darkness below. I hear it splash into something wet.
"Papa!" I try to run but the guard's hand clamps on my shoulder like a vice.
"Let her see what happens to traitors," a new voice says. Cold. Smooth. Like a snake moving through grass.
A man steps from the shadows wearing clothes so black they seem to swallow the torchlight. His face is sharp angles and cruel lines. Silver hair falls past his shoulders even though he doesn't look old. Just... wrong. Like something trying to be human.
"I am Lord Chancellor Ravencroft," he says. "I make the decisions the king is too soft to make."
He waves his hand and suddenly I can move again. I run down the rest of the steps and stop so fast I nearly fall.
Papa hangs from chains on the far wall. His arms bleed where the metal cuts into skin. One eye is swollen shut. Bruises cover his face in purple and black splotches.
"No." The word tears out of me. "No, no, no—" "Lyra." Papa's voice is barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, little light. I'm so sorry."
Little light. His nickname for me since I was tiny. Because I loved reading by candlelight. Because he said I lightened every room.
I run to him but more guards appear and grab my arms. They're everywhere down here. How many guys does it take to guard one bookshop keeper?
Unless Papa really was something more.
"What did he do?" I scream at Ravencroft. "Tell me what crime deserves this!"
The Chancellor circles us slowly like a cat playing with mice. "Theron Everhart was the king's most trusted mage. He had access to royal secrets, magical artifacts, knowledge that could destroy countries." He stops in front of Papa. "And then fifteen years ago, he stole something very valuable and disappeared."
"I didn't steal anything!" Papa's chains rattle as he tries to pull against them. "I was protecting—"
Ravencroft backhands Papa across the face so hard his head snaps sideways. Blood flies from his mouth.
"Stop it!" I fight against the guards but they hold me tight. "Please, just stop!"
"The penalty for stealing from the crown is death," Ravencroft says calmly, like he's talking tomorrow's weather. "But I'm a sensible man. I'm offering you both a gift."
"Gift?" I spit the word like poison. "You call this a gift?"
"I call it a choice." He moves toward me and I try to back away but the guards keep me frozen in place. " Princess Rosalie refuses to marry the Dragon King. She's hidden herself away and won't be moved. But the wedding must happen or King Drakemoor will burn our country to ash."
"Then send soldiers!" My voice echoes off the stone. "Send your armies! I'm just a girl who reads books!"
"Soldiers die quickly against dragon fire." Ravencroft's smile makes my stomach turn. "But a bride? A bride can get close. Can learn secrets. Can find flaws we can use later."
The room spins. "You want me to spy?"
"I want you to be useful." He grabs my chin and forces me to look at Papa. "Look at him. Really look. Do you want to watch him die? Because I will kill him in the town square. I'll make sure everyone in your village comes to watch. I'll make it slow."
Papa's good eye meets mine. It's full of tears. "Don't do it, Lyra. Don't throw your life away for me. I'm already dead—"
"Shut up!" I wrench free from Ravencroft's grip. "You don't get to tell me what to do! You lied about everything!"
"To protect you!" Papa's chains clank as he struggles. "Your mother—"
"Is dead!" The words rip out of my throat. "She died and you raised me alone and you lied about who you were and now they're going to kill you because of secrets you won't even tell me!"
Silence fills the basement. Even the guards seem nervous.
Ravencroft claps slowly. "How sweet. Now, here's what happens next." He counts on his fingers like he's teaching a child. "Option one: You refuse. Your father hangs tomorrow. You get thrown in jail for knowing about his crimes. Everyone in your village suffers because they harbored a criminal."
My blood goes cold. "You wouldn't—"
"Option two: You agree. We train you to be Princess Rosalie. You marry the Dragon King. You make him fall desperately in love with you so he never questions who you really are." Ravencroft leans closer. "Your father lives. He stays in a nice room under guard, but alive. When the Dragon King trusts you completely, you send us details about his kingdom's defenses. Eventually, we win the North without losing a single Aurelian soldier."
"You want me to betray him." My voice sounds dead. "After making him love me, you want me to help you destroy him."
"I want you to serve your kingdom." Ravencroft straightens his clothes. "Love is a tool, girl. Use it wisely."
I look at Papa. At the man who taught me that stories matter because they teach us to be brave. To be kind. To do the right thing even when it's hard.
What's the right thing now?
"How long do I have to decide?"
"You already have." Ravencroft nods to the guards. "Take her to the preparation rooms. She starts training immediately."
"Wait!" I twist in their grip. "I didn't agree!"
"Yes, you did. The moment you asked 'how long' instead of 'no.'" He turns away, bored with us already. "We leave for the North in three days. Be ready."
The guards drag me toward the stairs. I dig my feet in, scratching against stone.
"Papa! Tell me the truth! What did you really steal? What are you protecting me from?"
Papa's face crumples. Fresh tears cut through the blood and dirt. "I can't. If they knew what you really are—" His voice breaks. "Just live, little light. Promise me you'll survive."
"What I really am?" The words feel important. Heavy. "I'm just a store keeper's daughter! There's nothing special about me!"
But Papa shakes his head slowly. Sadly. Like I said something wrong.
"You're so much more than that," he whispers. "Your mother died making sure no one ever found out. I won't let her sacrifice be for nothing."
The guards yank me up the stairs. I scream Papa's name until my throat burns raw.
They throw me into a different room—smaller, but with a bed and a bowl of water. Almost nice, if you ignore the locked door and barred window.
I fall on the bed and finally let myself cry. Big, ugly tears that shake my whole body.
Three days to learn to be someone else.
Three days before I marry a dragon.
Three days to figure out what Papa meant about what I really am.
A knock stops my tears. The door opens and a woman enters. She's beautiful in a sharp way—like a knife can be beautiful. Blonde hair swept up in complex braids. A dress that possibly costs more than our entire bookshop. Cold blue eyes that look at me like I'm dirt on her expensive shoes.
"So you're the replacement." Her voice drips with disgust. "I suppose you'll have to do."
"Who are you?"
Her smile is all teeth and no feeling. "I'm Princess Rosalie Hartwood. The real one." She circles me slowly, studying. "I'm the girl whose life you're stealing."
"I'm not stealing anything!" I stand up even though my legs shake. "They're forcing me—"
"Do you think I care?" Rosalie laughs, but it sounds like breaking glass. "You get to play dress-up and marry a monster. Meanwhile, I get to stay here with the man I actually love." She leans close enough that I can smell her perfume—roses and something bitter. "But know this, little fake princess. If you fail, if the Dragon King learns the truth, they won't just kill your father. They'll hunt down everyone you've ever known. Every friend. Every friend. Everyone."
My heart stops. "You're lying."
"Am I?" She straightens up and walks to the door. "Oh, and one more thing. The Dragon King? He can feel lies. Something about heat signals or magic, I don't really understand it. But he'll know you're hiding something."
She stops in the doorway.
"The question is whether you can make him love you before he figures out what."
The door slams shut.
I stare at the empty space where she stood.
The Dragon King can smell lies.
I'm supposed to make him fall in love with me while lying about absolutely everything.
And if I fail, everyone I've ever cared about dies.
I sink back onto the bed as the full fear crashes over me.
This isn't just an impossible choice.
It's a death sentence dressed up as a wedding.