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"Down!" Caelan shoved Lyra behind a stone table as three silver bolts punched through the archive doors.
The bolts cracked against the wall above her head. Dust dropped into her hair. Caelan crouched over her, one hand braced beside her shoulder, the other gripping the black knife at his belt.
"You said this place was safe," he growled.
"I said the wards were old," Lyra snapped. "That isn't the same thing."
"You brought me into a trap."
"You followed me into a trap. Try keeping up."
Another bolt ripped through the door. The silver head struck the table, split, and hissed against the wood.
Caelan's eyes flashed gold. His face tightened like he was holding something back with his teeth.
The curse again.
Lyra grabbed his wrist before he could shift. His skin burned under her fingers. Heat ran up her arm, sharp and fast, and the black lines beneath his skin crawled toward his throat.
"Don't change," she said.
"Take your hand off me."
"Gladly. Right after you stop turning into a monster in a room full of silver."
His gaze dropped to her fingers around his wrist. The air between them went tight. His breath brushed her cheek, warm and rough.
"You keep touching me," he said quietly.
"You keep making it necessary."
"That excuse won't save you when the bond takes another day."
Her hand went still.
He saw it. Of course he saw it. Caelan noticed everything that could hurt her.
The archive doors groaned. Someone outside shouted, "By order of the Court, Lyra Voss and Caelan Rook are to be taken alive. Resist, and the sentence changes."
Lyra's stomach dropped.
"They know my name," she whispered.
"They know your brother's, too."
She looked up at him. "What did you say?"
Caelan pulled her behind the table as another bolt struck. "The court posted an execution order for your brother before we reached the lower district."
"You're lying."
"I don't waste lies on people who can read contracts."
"What order?"
"The kind that cuts a person's name out of every record after death. No body. No appeal. No identity left to recover."
Her grip tightened around his wrist. "When?"
"Six days. Maybe less."
For one second, the archive disappeared. Her brother's face flashed in her mind. His crooked smile. The small scar over his eyebrow. The way he always pretended not to be afraid when court officers came for the rent contract.
Lyra shoved the memory down and reached for the metal case under the table.
"We're leaving," she said.
"The front door is covered."
"Then we use the moon gate."
"You said it was sealed."
"It was."
"And now?"
"Now I lie better than the wards do."
She opened the case. Inside lay three broken contract seals, a spool of red thread, and a silver key with no teeth. The key vibrated against the velvet.
Caelan stared at it. "That opens a court gate."
"It opens a record gate."
"Same thing, if the Court owns the records."
"Then don't get caught."
He caught her arm before she could stand. His fingers closed around her just above the elbow. Not hard enough to bruise. More than hard enough to stop her.
"You don't get to run into a locked gate and hope your magic fixes it," he said.
"You don't get to grab me and call it strategy."
"Your brother dies if we fail."
The words landed clean. No threat. No drama. Just a fact he had decided to use against her.
Lyra leaned closer until only an inch separated their faces. "Say that again, and I break your nose."
His thumb pressed once against her sleeve. "You'd have to get past me first."
"Try me."
For half a breath, neither moved. His heat pushed through the fabric between them. Her pulse kicked against her throat, and his eyes followed it.
Then the archive doors exploded inward.
Caelan yanked her down as two armored hunters rushed through the opening. One carried a silver net. The other wore the red collar of the Court's execution branch.
"There!" the collar guard shouted. "The heir is infected. Kill him if the curse breaks loose."
"Heir?" Lyra rolled behind a pillar. "I thought the court wanted him alive."
"They changed their mind."
"Convenient."
Caelan moved before the guards could aim. He crossed the room in three strides, slammed one hunter into a shelf, and twisted the silver net away. The second hunter raised a crossbow.
Lyra snapped the red thread between her fingers.
"Hey, collar boy!" she yelled. "Your warrant has a broken witness clause."
The guard turned. "What?"
"Page four, line nine. The witness has to be present at the execution. Your witness died two years ago."
"Shut up!"
"You can't. It's a binding clause. If you ignore me, the warrant turns on you."
The guard glanced at his partner. That was enough.
Lyra pulled the thread.
Red light burst across the floor. The guard's boots locked in place. He fell forward with a curse, and his crossbow skidded under the table.
Caelan drove his shoulder into the other hunter. The man's helmet cracked against the shelf. He dropped, stunned but breathing.
Caelan looked back at her. "You could have mentioned you had that trick."
"You could have mentioned the city wanted me dead, too. We're both learning."
The black lines under his skin crawled higher. His jaw clenched.
Lyra saw the change before he did. His fingers lengthened. His shoulders pulled tight.
"Caelan."
"Don't."
"You're losing control."
"I said don't."
He turned away, but the curse had already reached his jaw. Gold filled his eyes.
Lyra grabbed his coat and shoved him against the nearest pillar. His back hit stone. His hands closed around her waist on reflex, keeping her from falling between his boots.
"Look at me," she ordered.
His breathing came hard. "Move."
"Look at me."
"Lyra, move before I—"
"Before you what? Hurt me? Then do it while you can still choose."
His gaze locked onto hers.
The gold shook. The black marks stopped crawling.
"Count," she said.
"I don't need—"
"Count, damn it."
"One."
"Again."
"Two."
She kept one hand against his chest. His heart hammered beneath her palm. He was too warm, too close, and staring at her like she was the only solid thing in the room.
"Three," he said.
"Good. Keep going."
"You're enjoying this."
"Watching you fight a curse? Not particularly. Holding you against a wall? Ask me after you stop trying to bite people."
His mouth tightened. "You flirt when you're scared."
"You threaten people when you're scared."
"I don't flirt."
"No. You loom. Much more charming."
The gold faded from his eyes. His hands stayed at her waist for one beat too long.
Lyra felt it. So did he.
He released her first.
"The gate," he said.
"Right. The gate."
She stepped away before her fingers could betray her and pulled the silver key from the case. Behind the shattered shelves, a circular door had appeared in the stone. No handle. No hinges. Just a thin moon-shaped cut glowing white.
Caelan stood beside her. "What do you need?"
"Blood."
"Mine?"
"Probably. You're the one with the expensive bloodline."
"You still think my claim is fake."
"I think your claim has more holes than a cheap contract. Your seal is missing from the archive. Your birth record was amended three times. Your father's signature appears on documents written after his death."
"And you came here to prove it."
"I came here to break the death warrant attached to your name. If your claim is fake, the warrant may be void."
"If my claim is real?"
"Then I collect the bounty on exposing whoever forged it."
He gave her a hard look. "You plan to sell me out after saving me?"
"I plan to save my brother. Don't confuse the two."
Caelan drew his knife and cut across his palm. Blood welled immediately.
Lyra caught his wrist. "You could have used a pin."
"The gate needs a serious offering."
"You don't know that."
"I know more about wolf gates than you do."
"You know how to bleed dramatically. That's not the same thing."
He pressed his palm to the moon-shaped cut. The gate shuddered. White light spilled across both of them, and a thin line of black ink appeared around their wrists.
Lyra's life-mark burned.
She jerked back. "Take your hand off the gate."
"Too late."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
The black line tightened around her wrist. A second mark appeared beneath it, shaped like a tiny clock with seven empty spaces.
Lyra's mouth went dry. "No."
Caelan looked at the mark. "That wasn't supposed to happen."
"You said you knew wolf gates."
"I said I knew more than you."
"You arrogant—"
The first empty space filled with red.
Pain shot through her hand. A pale line vanished from the center of her palm, one of the small marks that counted the years left on her life contract.
Lyra sucked in a breath.
Caelan caught her hand. "What happened?"
"Let go."
"Your mark changed."
"I said let go."
She tried to pull free. He held on, his thumb brushing the fading line. His expression hardened when he understood.
"It took time from you," he said.
"One day."
"For opening the gate?"
"For keeping you alive long enough to open it."
He stared at her palm. "I'm not worth the cost."
"That's not your call."
"It is when you spend your life on me."
"I spend my life on whatever gets my brother back."
"You think I can fix this?"
"I think you can stop standing there looking guilty and give me something useful."
His eyes lifted to hers. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a flat iron seal marked with a black wolf and a broken moon.
Lyra's breath caught.
"That's the heir's seal," she said.
"The court believes it was destroyed."
"Because it was taken from the family vault."
"Because I took it."
He placed it in her hand.
The metal was hot. The wolf symbol bit into her skin, not enough to cut, but enough to wake every contract sense in her body.
Lines appeared across the seal. Old clauses. Hidden names. A chain of authority wrapped around the center.
Lyra stared. "You trust me with this?"
"No."
"Good. I was worried you had a head injury."
"If you break the seal, the Court can no longer recognize my claim."
"Then why hand it to me?"
"Because you need proof."
"And what do you need?"
He stepped closer. His coat brushed her knuckles. "You."
The word came out low. Too honest. It slid under her guard before she could block it.
"Careful," she said. "That almost sounded like a confession."
"It's a warning."
"Same difference with you."
Outside, more boots thundered across the archive floor.
The moon gate opened a crack. Beyond it waited a narrow tunnel lined with old records. The air smelled of ash and ink.
Caelan took the seal back for one second, then closed her fingers around it again.
"Keep it," he said. "If I die, you use it to challenge the warrant."
"If you die, the curse may take half the city with you."
"Then stay close."
"You don't get to order me around."
"I do when every hunter in the city is coming through that door."
The collar guard groaned on the floor. His locked boots began to crack the red binding.
Lyra looked at the gate. "Seven days."
"Seven days until the bond closes."
"And every time I save you, it takes another day from me."
"I know."
"If you try to escape it, the bond kills us both."
"I know."
"If I break it wrong, my brother's contract transfers to the Court."
Caelan's face went still. "You didn't tell me that."
"You didn't ask."
He leaned down until his mouth was near her ear. His breath warmed her skin, and his voice dropped to a dangerous murmur.
"You're going to tell me everything before we take one more step."
"Make me."
His fingers closed around the back of her neck. Not squeezing. Just holding her in place while his eyes searched hers.
"Don't tempt me unless you want the answer."
Her pulse jumped. She hated that he noticed.
The archive doors shook under another impact.
Lyra shoved his hand away. "Move, wolf."
"After you, contract breaker."
They slipped through the moon gate together. The instant Caelan crossed the threshold, the black mark on Lyra's wrist tightened. His shoulder pressed against hers in the narrow passage, forcing them close enough that every breath touched.
"This tunnel is too narrow," she muttered.
"You wanted forced proximity."
"I wanted evidence."
"You got both."
The gate slammed shut behind them. Hunters shouted on the other side. Lyra raised the silver key and sealed the door, but the impact kept shaking through the stone.
They ran between shelves packed with rolled documents. The records here were older than the city court, bound in wolfskin and stamped with dead clan marks.
At the end of the passage, Caelan stopped so fast Lyra struck his back.
"What now?"
He pointed to a shelf marked with the Rook crest.
"That's the succession archive."
"You recognize it?"
"My father took me there once. Before he decided I was too dangerous to trust."
"Touching family story. Open it."
"The lock requires the heir's seal."
Lyra held out her hand. "Then use the seal you just gave me."
"You use it."
"Why?"
"Because the archive may reject my blood."
That stopped her.
"You think it will reject you?"
"I think someone spent years making sure it would."
Lyra pressed the seal into the lock.
The shelf split down the middle. A hidden drawer slid out. Inside lay a single ledger, its cover torn and stained dark around the edges.
Caelan reached for it.
Lyra slapped his hand away. "Wait."
"For what?"
"Contracts lie in the first sentence. The truth hides in the margin."
She opened the ledger carefully. Names crawled across the page in faded ink. One by one, they belonged to dead heirs, dead witnesses, dead kings.
Then she found the Rook line.
Caelan leaned over her shoulder. His chest brushed her back. She felt his breath stop.
"Read it," he said.
"I am."
"Out loud."
Lyra turned the page. The paper tore beneath her fingers.
A hidden sheet slid free and dropped onto the stone floor.
Caelan bent to pick it up, but Lyra caught his sleeve. "Don't."
"Why?"
"Because the ink is fresh."
The torn page shook once, as if something beneath the words was still alive.
Caelan's voice went rough. "Lyra. Read it."
She looked down.
One line had been written in black ink across the center of the page:
**The true wolf heir died before the eclipse.**
Caelan went utterly still.
Behind them, the sealed gate gave a deep, grinding crack.
Lyra lifted her eyes to him. "If that's true, then who the hell are you—"