The first soldier reached the bottom of the stairs with his sword already drawn.

Lyra recognized him.

Lieutenant Corren had once carried three injured children into the Temple infirmary after a carriage overturned in the western market. He had stood in the rain until Lyra finished healing the youngest, refusing treatment for his own broken wrist until everyone else was safe.

Now his face went white when he saw Kael standing unchained beside her.

"Saintess."

Behind him, six more royal guards crowded the narrow stairwell.

Their eyes moved from the shattered restraints to the severed crystal tubes, then finally to Kael.

One soldier whispered a prayer.

Kael tilted his head.

"How flattering. I still inspire theology."

Lyra tightened her grip on the ceremonial dagger.

"No one moves."

Corren stared at her as though she had started speaking dragon tongue.

"Saintess, step away from him."

Kael murmured beside her, "Excellent advice. Shall we demonstrate why it is impossible?"

"Quiet."

"You keep saying that as though it has ever worked."

Corren raised his sword.

"Your Grace, I will ask once more. Come toward us. Slowly."

Your Grace.

Not Saintess.

The formality frightened Lyra more than shouting would have.

It meant the soldiers had already begun treating the chamber as a battlefield.

She took one cautious step toward the stairs.

Pain tore through her ribs.

Kael inhaled sharply behind her.

Lyra stopped immediately.

The pain vanished almost as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a sickening echo.

Every guard saw her stumble.

Corren's expression hardened.

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing."

Kael's laugh contained no humor.

"That answer is technically inaccurate, but I appreciate the defense."

Lyra glanced at him.

He looked almost relaxed, but the bond betrayed him.

Beneath his amusement was exhaustion so deep it felt like standing at the edge of a frozen sea.

And beneath that exhaustion—fear.

Not fear of the soldiers.

Fear for her.

The realization irritated her immediately.

"Don't," she muttered.

His brow lifted.

"Don't what?"

"Feel things so loudly."

For the first time since she had met him, Kael appeared genuinely offended.

"I have spent three centuries chained underground. Forgive me if my emotional etiquette has deteriorated."

Corren looked between them.

"Saintess?"

Lyra forced herself to think.

The shattered conduits had gone dark. Whatever power Kael's blood had supplied was no longer moving through them.

If he was telling the truth, something above the palace had already changed.

Perhaps throughout the entire kingdom.

She could not hand him back to the Temple without understanding what she had seen.

She also could not simply walk out with Aurelia's most feared enemy.

"Lieutenant," she said carefully, "send someone to High Priest Cassian. Tell him the containment system failed."

Corren did not lower his sword.

"We were ordered to kill the prisoner if containment failed."

Lyra went still.

Kael did not.

His smile sharpened.

"There. Much more honest."

"Who gave that order?" Lyra asked.

Corren hesitated.

That hesitation was answer enough.

"Cassian?"

"Saintess, please step aside."

Something inside Lyra sank.

Cassian had sent her here to perform an execution.

Of course he had prepared another method if she failed.

That should not have surprised her.

It did anyway.

Kael's voice lowered.

"They will not permit you to leave this room knowing what you know."

"You don't know that."

"I know institutions."

"And I know Cassian."

A pulse of emotion traveled through the bond.

Pity.

Lyra wanted to slap him for it.

"Don't pity me."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"How inconvenient this bond is becoming."

Corren took a step forward.

Kael moved before Lyra could warn him.

He did not attack.

He simply stepped in front of her.

The movement was so instinctive that for one stunned heartbeat, no one reacted.

Then every soldier raised a weapon.

Silver flashed beneath Kael's skin.

Thin scales appeared along his throat and the backs of his hands, catching the dead chamber light like polished metal.

His pupils narrowed.

The air changed.

Heat pressed against Lyra's face.

Corren shouted, "Formation!"

"Kael," Lyra snapped.

He looked back at her.

"You know my name. How intimate."

"If you burn them, I will finish what I came here to do."

His eyes flicked toward the dagger.

Then, astonishingly, he smiled.

"There she is."

The heat receded.

Not completely.

Enough.

The guards did not notice the restraint.

Lyra did.

So did the bond.

Kael wanted to strike.

He was choosing not to.

Before she could decide what that meant, a deep bell rang somewhere above them.

Once.

Twice.

Then a third time.

Corren's face changed.

Lyra knew that bell.

Every child in Aurelia knew it.

The Barrier Bell.

It had not rung in seventeen years.

Another bell answered from farther away.

Then another.

Kael closed his eyes.

"So," he said quietly. "They were using more of me than I thought."

A soldier near the stairs whispered, "The western wards."

Corren swore.

The palace shook.

Dust fell from the ceiling.

Somewhere overhead, people began screaming.

The moment of discipline broke.

Kael seized Lyra's wrist.

She reacted instantly, twisting the ceremonial dagger toward his ribs.

He caught her forearm with his other hand.

"Unless your assassination plan includes being buried alive, Saintess, I recommend postponement."

A crack split the stone wall behind them.

Lyra did not argue.

"Corren! Get your men upstairs!"

"I cannot leave him!"

"Then you'll die here accomplishing nothing."

The lieutenant looked toward the trembling ceiling.

Another impact sounded above.

Lyra saw the decision happen in his face.

"Retreat!" he shouted.

The guards began climbing.

Corren remained long enough to point his sword at Kael.

"If she is harmed—"

"Everyone threatens me with her safety today," Kael said. "It's becoming repetitive."

Corren looked to Lyra.

"Come with us."

Lyra swallowed.

She looked at the stairs.

Then at Kael.

They both knew what would happen if she attempted to follow the soldiers without him.

"I can't."

Corren stared.

"Why?"

Lyra had no answer she was willing to give.

Kael provided one.

"Because your Saintess and your monster are currently sharing a soul."

Silence.

Even the shaking chamber seemed to pause.

Lyra slowly turned toward him.

"I am going to kill you."

"Yes, you've mentioned it."

Corren went pale.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Lyra said through clenched teeth, "that something happened when the restraints broke."

"Something?"

"A magical reaction."

Kael leaned toward Corren conspiratorially.

"She's embarrassed."

Lyra drove her elbow into his ribs.

Pain shot through her own side at the same instant.

She doubled over.

Kael doubled over beside her.

For one terrible second they stared at each other.

Then Kael began laughing.

Lyra wanted the floor to swallow her.

Corren looked horrified.

"You share injuries?"

"Apparently," Lyra gasped, "including self-inflicted stupidity."

"That was worth it," Kael said.

The ceiling cracked again.

Corren backed toward the stairs.

"I will find Prince Adrian."

Lyra's head snapped up.

"Why Adrian?"

"The king's council is already gathering because the outer wards are failing. If anyone can delay an execution order, it's the crown prince."

Kael's amusement vanished.

"Valerius has a son?"

Corren gave him a murderous look and climbed after his men.

Lyra waited until the footsteps disappeared.

Then she faced Kael.

"What did you mean, Valerius has a son?"

"Later."

"No."

"Lyra."

His use of her name without mockery stopped her.

Kael pointed toward the conduits.

Hairline fractures were spreading across the crystal channels.

Black liquid seeped from one cracked junction.

Not blood.

Something thicker.

Something that smelled faintly of burned incense.

Kael's face hardened.

"That should not be here."

Lyra crouched beside the nearest conduit.

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I know my own blood. That isn't it."

A tiny golden spark leapt from Lyra's fingers toward the black liquid.

The substance recoiled.

Actually recoiled.

Kael caught her hand before she could touch it.

"Don't."

A silver spark answered beneath his palm.

Gold and silver curled together between their skin.

Lyra froze.

The warmth was different this time.

Not painful.

Not violent.

Almost familiar.

The chamber vanished.

For one heartbeat, Lyra stood beneath a sky full of stars.

A woman's voice was singing.

She could not understand the words.

A dragon larger than the palace lay curled around a ruined tower.

And beside Lyra stood a child with silver eyes.

The child looked directly at her.

"You're late," he said.

The vision shattered.

Lyra fell backward.

Kael caught her.

The bond flooded with something so fierce it stole her breath.

Recognition.

Grief.

Terror.

Kael's face had lost all color.

"You saw it," he whispered.

Lyra pulled away as far as the bond allowed.

"The tower."

He stared at her.

"And the child?"

She nodded.

Kael released her arm.

For several seconds he said nothing.

Then, very softly, "That was my first dream of you."

Lyra's heart stopped.

"You said you've dreamed of my name since before I was born."

"I lied."

Anger flared through her.

Kael looked almost sick.

"Not about the dreams. About when they began."

"When?"

His gaze moved to the broken conduit, to the mingling traces of gold and silver flame still fading between them.

"Three hundred and twelve years ago."

Lyra forgot how to breathe.

Kael's voice dropped to a whisper.

"The night before the Temple chained me beneath this palace, I dreamed of you."