Chapter 15 · The Heir Who Wasn't Born

"Get away from the door," Mira snapped. "The hounds are already inside the lower stairwell."

Lyra spun toward the iron door. Three heavy impacts shook the tower. Dust dropped from the ceiling and peppered her shoulders.

Caelan caught her wrist before she could move.

"You're not going anywhere alone."

"Let go."

"Not after what you just did."

His fingers were hot around her skin. Too hot. The curse still moved under him, bright silver lines pulsing at his throat. The wall behind him was cracked where he had smashed his fist instead of her head.

Lyra glanced at the white strand lying across his knuckles.

"Save the lecture. We need the blood record."

"We need to get you out before you spend another year of your life on me."

"Then stop making me save you."

His jaw tightened. "You think I wanted your hair to turn white?"

"I think you're wasting time."

Another impact hit the door. The lock groaned.

Mira shoved the stolen file against her chest. "Both of you can argue after we survive. The records say Oren Rook never existed. Not as a prince. Not as a child. Not even as a dead infant.