Daevan's POV
"You will answer my questions, Crown Prince."
Grand Matriarch Veyra's voice cut through the destroyed workshop like ice. Daevan turned slowly to face her, keeping his body between her and the tunnel where Lyra had disappeared.
"I have nothing to say to you," he said.
Veyra's ancient gold eyes narrowed. White scales glittered on her arms—permanent dragon manifestation from centuries of using her power. She stepped closer, and Daevan felt the weight of her magic pressing against him like a physical force.
"You were connected to the Scarlet Veil," Veyra said. "I saw the bond-fragments linking you together. Impossible fragments from a supposedly severed bond." Her smile was cold and sharp. "How very interesting."
Daevan's dragon stirred inside him, aggressive and protective. "My personal connections are none of the Council's business."
"Everything about bonds is the Council's business." Veyra gestured to her guards. "Arrest him. Take him to the Sanctum for questioning."
"On what charges?" Daevan let crimson scales ripple across his hands. "I've broken no laws."
"You harbored a bond-criminal. You interfered with a Council arrest. And you clearly know more about the Scarlet Veil than you've revealed." Veyra's expression hardened. "Unless you want your mother to hear about your... lingering attachment to a severed bond-mate, you'll cooperate."
Daevan went very still. His mother. Of course Veyra would use her as leverage.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Starting with how bond-fragments survived a full severance ritual."
Daevan met her eyes and lied smoothly. "I don't know. Maybe the Scarlet Veil isn't as skilled as people think. Maybe she failed the severance completely."
"Unlikely. The scars on her chest suggest she used proper blood magic from the Obsidian Chasm." Veyra studied him carefully. "Unless the bond she severed was something special. Something natural."
Daevan's heart raced but he kept his face blank. "Natural bonds are myths. The Council proved that centuries ago."
"Did we?" Veyra smiled. "Or did we simply eliminate everyone who had one?"
The casual admission sent ice through Daevan's veins. She knew. She'd always known natural bonds existed—and the Council had been hunting them down for a thousand years.
"I want the Scarlet Veil found and brought to me," Veyra continued. "Alive. Those bond-fragments make her valuable for study. And you, Crown Prince, are going to help me find her."
"Never."
"Then I'll arrest your mother for conspiracy in hiding a bond-criminal. I'll question every servant in the palace. I'll tear apart the Lower Rings until someone gives her up." Veyra's voice turned deadly soft. "Or you can tell me where she is, and I'll make her capture quick and painless."
Daevan wanted to burn her to ash. Wanted to let his dragon loose and destroy this ancient monster who'd controlled the empire for too long.
But Veyra was stronger. Older. She'd killed dragons who'd challenged her before.
"I don't know where she is," Daevan said honestly. "She ran. I couldn't follow."
"But you felt her through the bond-fragments. You can track her."
"The connection isn't that strong."
Veyra stepped so close he could smell sulfur and old magic on her breath. "Find her. Bring her to me. You have seven days, Crown Prince. After that, I start arresting everyone you care about until the Scarlet Veil surrenders herself."
She turned and swept from the ruined workshop, her guards following.
Daevan stood alone in the destruction, his shoulder still bleeding from Seraphine's ice spear. His dragon raged inside him, demanding he chase after Lyra, protect her, never let her out of his sight again.
But Lyra didn't want his protection. She'd made that painfully clear.
Still, Veyra's threat echoed in his mind. Seven days. Seven days before the Council started hunting everyone connected to Lyra.
Including her family.
Daevan's eyes widened. Her family. Lyra had mentioned them tonight—her mother, her sister, her brother. People she'd left behind to protect when she severed their bond.
People who might know how to reach her.
He left the workshop and climbed back onto his horse. The ride to the palace passed in a blur. His mind raced with plans, strategies, ways to keep Lyra safe from Veyra while also—
While also what? Winning her back? Convincing her to trust him again? She'd been right when she'd said he always chose duty over her.
But not anymore.
This time, Lyra came first. The empire could burn for all he cared.
Daevan reached the palace and headed straight for his private study, ignoring servants and advisors who tried to speak with him. He needed information. Needed to find Lyra's family before Veyra did.
He pulled out maps of Pyrstone and started searching for healing shops—Lyra had said her parents ran one. There couldn't be that many in the city.
A knock interrupted his search.
"Enter," Daevan called without looking up.
"Your Highness." Captain Rhen stepped inside. "There's a young woman here to see you. She says it's urgent. Says her name is Mira Embermoor."
Daevan's head snapped up. "Embermoor?"
"Yes, Your Highness. She's quite insistent. Should I send her away?"
Lyra's sister. Here. Now.
It felt like fate.
"Send her in," Daevan said quickly. "And make sure we're not disturbed."
Rhen bowed and left. Moments later, a young woman entered the study.
She looked so much like Lyra it made Daevan's chest ache. Same dark hair, same delicate features. But her eyes were warmer, kinder—eyes that hadn't been broken by betrayal.
"Crown Prince Daevan," Mira said, curtsying nervously. "Thank you for seeing me."
"Miss Embermoor." Daevan gestured to a chair. "Please, sit. What brings you to the palace?"
Mira perched on the edge of the seat, twisting her hands together. "I need your help. It's about my sister."
Daevan's heart stopped. "Lyra?"
"You know her name." Mira's eyes filled with tears. "Then it's true. You were bonded to her. She never told me directly, but I guessed. The timing of when she left, the way she wouldn't talk about what happened—" Her voice broke. "Did you hurt her? Is that why she ran?"
The question hit like a knife to the gut. "Yes," Daevan said quietly. "I hurt her in ways I can never fix. I chose duty over her. Let my mother threaten her. Let her believe she wasn't worth fighting for." He met Mira's gaze. "Your sister deserved better than me."
Mira studied him for a long moment. "You're right. She did." Then, surprisingly, her expression softened. "But she also loved you more than anything. Losing you nearly killed her."
"I know. I felt it when she severed our bond."
"Then why didn't you come after her?"
"I tried." Daevan's hands clenched into fists. "I searched everywhere. But she'd covered her tracks perfectly. It wasn't until tonight that I finally found her again."
Mira sat up straighter. "You saw Lyra? Is she okay?"
"She's alive. Angry. Building a life that doesn't need me." Daevan smiled bitterly. "She's become extraordinary."
"She always was." Mira leaned forward. "Your Highness, I came here because I'm getting married in two weeks. I invited Lyra to the wedding, even though I knew it was dangerous. She hasn't responded yet, but knowing my sister, she'll come. She won't risk me looking for her."
Daevan's mind raced. A wedding. Public event. Lyra would have to attend, which meant—
"I need your help keeping her safe," Mira continued. "The moment she steps foot in Pyrstone for my wedding, she's at risk. From the Council, from your former fiancée, from everyone who wants the Scarlet Veil dead or captured."
"You know about the Scarlet Veil?"
"I guessed." Mira's eyes were fierce despite her tears. "My sister is the only person who could perform impossible bond-severance rituals. And she had a very personal reason to learn how." She grabbed Daevan's hand. "Please. I know you hurt her. I know she probably hates you. But if you ever loved her—if you still love her—help me protect her."
Daevan stared at this brave young woman who loved her sister enough to walk into the palace and demand help from the man who'd broken Lyra's heart.
"I'll protect her," he promised. "With my life if necessary."
"Good." Mira pulled out a piece of paper. "Then I need you to help with the wedding preparations. Make sure security is tight. Make sure no one can hurt Lyra while she's there."
An idea formed in Daevan's mind. Dangerous. Manipulative. Exactly the kind of calculated move Lyra would hate.
But it would work.
"I'll do more than that," he said. "I'll make sure your wedding is the safest place in Pyrstone. And in return—" He met Mira's eyes. "I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
Mira hesitated. "What are you planning?"
"Something your sister won't like. But something that will keep her close enough for me to protect her from Veyra and anyone else who wants to use her." Daevan's jaw tightened. "I need her beside me for the entire ceremony. Where I can see her. Where my dragon can keep her safe."
Understanding dawned in Mira's eyes. "The seating arrangements."
"Yes."
"She'll know you manipulated it. She'll be furious."
"I know." Daevan smiled grimly. "But she'll be alive and protected. Her anger is a price I'll gladly pay."
Mira bit her lip, clearly torn. Then she sighed. "Fine. You can adjust the seating chart. Put Lyra next to you. But Your Highness—" Her voice turned hard. "If you hurt my sister again, if you break her heart worse than you already have, I don't care that you're the Crown Prince. I will find a way to make you suffer for it."
The threat should have been laughable coming from a tiny healer with no dragon blood. But Mira's eyes blazed with the same fierce protectiveness Daevan had seen in Lyra.
These sisters were warriors in their own ways.
"I won't hurt her again," Daevan promised. "I swear it on my dragon's soul."
Mira nodded slowly. "Then we have a deal." She stood. "The wedding is in two weeks. I'll send you the details. Make sure everything is perfect."
"I will."
She walked to the door, then paused and looked back. "Your Highness? Lyra told me once that loving you was like flying—terrifying and beautiful and free. Don't make her regret ever learning how to soar."
Then she was gone, leaving Daevan alone with her words echoing in his mind.
He immediately called for his wedding coordinator and pulled out the seating chart for Mira's ceremony. His finger traced down the list of guests until he found it: Lyra Embermoor - Table Seven, Seat Twelve.
Far from the main table. Far from him.
Daevan crossed it out and wrote in new coordinates: Main Table, Seat Two.
Directly beside the Crown Prince's assigned seat.
Lyra would see it as manipulation. As him forcing proximity. As exactly the kind of controlling behavior that had driven her away three years ago.
She'd be right.
But he didn't care.
Two weeks from now, she'd walk into that wedding. She'd see his name next to hers on the seating chart. She'd be furious.
And she'd have no choice but to sit beside him for the entire ceremony, close enough that he could protect her from every threat in the room.
Close enough that the bond-fragments would sing between them.
Close enough that maybe—just maybe—she'd remember what it felt like when they were whole.
Daevan set down his pen and pressed his hand against his chest where the bond-mark used to burn.
"Two weeks," he whispered. "Hold on for two more weeks, Lyra. Then I'll prove I've changed. Prove you can trust me. Prove that I choose you over everything."
He was done being the dutiful prince who sacrificed love for the empire.
This time, he'd burn down the entire Council if that's what it took to keep her safe.
His dragon stirred inside him, finally calm for the first time in three years. Because it knew—soon, their mate would be within reach again.
And this time, Daevan wouldn't let her go.
No matter what it cost him.
The door burst open. Captain Rhen stood there, face pale.
"Your Highness. There's been an attack. Someone tried to assassinate Grand Matriarch Veyra twenty minutes ago."
Daevan's blood ran cold. "Did they succeed?"
"No. But the assassin left a message carved into the Sanctum wall." Rhen's voice shook. "It says: 'The Scarlet Veil sends her regards. Stop hunting what you can't contain.'"
Daevan stared at him in shock.
Lyra had just declared war on the most powerful dragon in the empire.
And she'd done it alone.