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"Get away from her, or I start cutting fingers." Lyra drove the broken edge of a silver seal into the guard's throat before he could finish dragging Mira across the archive floor.
The guard froze. Mira did not. She slammed her heel into his knee, twisted free, and crashed into a stack of locked document boxes.
"That was my line," Mira gasped.
"You were taking too long."
"I was being strangled."
"And now you're not. Move."
Three black-coated court enforcers blocked the only door. Their red badges showed the execution authority, which meant they could kill Mira on the spot and call it paperwork. Behind them, iron shelves climbed to the ceiling. Every shelf held contracts, blood records, erased names, and enough secrets to start a war.
Caelan stood between Lyra and the nearest enforcer, one hand pressed to his side. Blood darkened his shirt beneath the ribs. His other hand held a short blade, but the tremor in his wrist was getting worse.
The lunar curse was awake.
"You're late," he said.
Lyra glanced at him. "You look terrible."
"You look armed with office supplies."
"It's a seal cutter."
"It has a wooden handle."
"You want to argue, or do you want to stay alive?"
His mouth pulled into a thin smile. "Both."
The enforcer in front raised his crossbow. "Lyra Voss. Step away from the archivist and surrender the ledger key. Caelan Rook is under a death order. Anyone protecting him shares the sentence."
"You people really love announcing the obvious," Lyra said. "If I surrender, you kill me. If I run, you kill me. If I hand over Caelan, he dies first."
"Correct."
"Then why would I make your night easier?"
The enforcer's thumb moved against the trigger.
Caelan caught Lyra's wrist and pulled her back against him. His chest hit her shoulders. Heat bled through his shirt, even through the leather of her coat. His breath touched the side of her neck.
"Don't," she whispered.
"Don't what?"
"Use me as a shield."
"I was moving you out of the firing line."
"You moved me into your arms."
"You're welcome."
His fingers tightened around her wrist. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to remind her that the bond between them could punish distance, panic, and disobedience. If they split up, the contract would tear through both their bodies. If Caelan's curse took control, Lyra was the only person who could read the marks crawling beneath his skin.
And if he died, the contract would collect the rest of her life.
Mira shoved a metal box toward them. "Less flirting. More escaping."
Lyra snapped her gaze to her. "We're not flirting."
Caelan leaned closer. "You sound disappointed."
"I sound busy."
"You sound—"
"One more word and I'll break your nose."
"There she is."
The crossbow fired.
Caelan moved first. He hooked an arm around Lyra's waist and spun them aside. The bolt struck the shelf behind them. A burst of blue light tore through the wood, and every contract in the row began screaming.
Not with voices. With names.
Hundreds of them flashed across the paper in burning red ink. Debtors. Prisoners. Children marked for inheritance transfer. People the court had declared dead while still breathing.
Mira stared at the shelves. "They found us."
"No kidding," Lyra said. "Which one is the real ledger?"
"The one they don't want you to touch."
"That narrows it down to the whole room."
The enforcers charged.
Lyra threw the seal cutter. It struck the first man's badge. The metal split with a sharp crack, and his authority mark went dark. He stumbled as the court's binding released him.
Mira caught a fallen iron rod and swung it into the second guard's wrist.
Caelan met the third head-on. His blade flashed once. The guard dropped his weapon and staggered back, clutching his sleeve.
"Don't kill them," Lyra shouted.
Caelan's eyes flicked toward her. For one second, they were not gray. They were pale gold, bright and wrong.
"Give me a better reason."
"The court can track a death mark. It can't track an injury."
"That is a very specific reason."
"I break contracts for a living. Try to keep up."
Caelan grabbed the guard by the collar and slammed him against the shelf. Papers shook loose around his head.
"Where is the claim ledger?" Caelan demanded.
The guard spat blood onto the floor. "Burned."
Caelan pressed the blade under his jaw. "Try again."
"The royal record was destroyed when your father died."
"My father didn't die. He was murdered."
"Same result."
Caelan's jaw locked. The gold in his eyes spread wider.
Lyra saw the thin black lines crawling up his throat. His curse was moving fast. He was three breaths from losing control, and when that happened, the guard would not be the only one in danger.
She stepped between them and caught Caelan's wrist.
The instant her skin touched his, heat snapped through her palm. His breath caught. His blade stopped beneath the guard's jaw.
"Look at me," she said.
"Move."
"No."
"Lyra."
"You want to scare him? Fine. You want to cut him? Not happening. Look at me."
His eyes locked on hers. They were too bright now. His grip shifted from the guard to her, fingers curling around the back of her hand.
"You're bleeding," he said.
"Not yet."
"Your pulse is racing."
"Yours is worse."
"You shouldn't touch me when the moon mark is active."
"Then stop making me save you from yourself."
His face came close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath. The archive noise faded behind the hard beat of his pulse beneath her fingers.
"You keep doing that," he murmured.
"Doing what?"
"Standing this close and pretending you don't feel anything."
Lyra shoved his shoulder. "I feel your curse trying to eat your brain. That's enough for one night."
The corner of his mouth moved, but the gold did not leave his eyes.
Mira pointed at the shelves. "Can you two finish the dangerous staring later? The door won't hold."
A heavy impact shook the archive entrance. Dust dropped from the ceiling.
The first guard groaned. "You'll never open it. The seal is blood-locked."
Lyra looked past him. At the end of the room, a narrow iron cabinet sat behind a curtain of hanging chains. Unlike every other cabinet, it had no court symbol. No number. No lock.
Just a palm-shaped impression in the door.
"That's it," she said.
Mira's face went pale. "No."
"You said the record was here."
"I said I knew where it was. I didn't say we could open it."
"What's the difference?"
"Opening it takes a living blood heir."
Caelan released the guard and stepped toward the cabinet. "My blood should work."
"No," Mira said.
He turned. "You want to explain that?"
"The cabinet was sealed before your father took the throne. It recognizes the original line. Not the current heir."
"I am the current heir."
"That's what the court says."
The words landed harder than the crossbow bolt.
Caelan's expression went flat. "You think my claim is false."
"I think someone wants you dead before the record opens. That usually means the record proves something inconvenient."
Another impact slammed into the door. Metal screamed.
Lyra walked to the cabinet. "What happens if the wrong person touches it?"
Mira hesitated.
"Mira."
"The seal takes payment."
"Money?"
"Blood. Memory. Years. Depends what it finds."
Caelan caught Lyra by the elbow and pulled her back. "You're not touching it."
"Let go."
"No."
"You don't get to order me around."
"The bond says otherwise."
The contract mark around Lyra's wrist burned beneath her sleeve. Caelan's matching mark answered with a dull red glow.
He stepped in front of her. His body blocked the cabinet and the guards behind him. The closeness should have made her feel trapped. Instead, she noticed the blood on his knuckles, the rough edge of his breathing, and the way his eyes kept dropping to her mouth before snapping back up.
"You need me alive," she said.
"I need you breathing. There is a difference."
"If the court gets that ledger, they erase your claim. Then they execute my brother."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you keep acting like this is your problem."
His hand slid from her elbow to her wrist. His thumb rested over her pulse.
"It became my problem when your death warrant appeared in my name."
"You signed it."
"I didn't."
"Your seal was on it."
"My seal was stolen."
"And I should trust the wolf prince who put a price on my head?"
His fingers tightened. "No. You should trust the man who has had three chances to kill you and keeps choosing the harder option."
For half a second, neither of them moved.
The door boomed again.
Mira grabbed Lyra's shoulder. "We have seconds."
Lyra looked at Caelan. "If this takes years from me, you don't stop me."
"I will."
"You don't get a vote."
"I do when your life is tied to mine."
"Then cut the bond."
His face changed. Just a little. The sharp confidence vanished, leaving something raw and furious beneath it.
"You know I can't."
"You can try."
"And if it kills you?"
"Then you can finally stop pretending you care."
The words hit him. She saw it in the sudden stillness of his mouth.
Caelan lifted his blade.
Lyra's hand went to the weapon, but he turned it and pressed the flat of the blade into her palm.
"Don't," she said.
"You said the seal needs blood."
"I can do it myself."
"Then do it."
He closed her fingers around the hilt. His palm covered the back of her hand, warm and steady despite the curse climbing through him.
"Caelan."
"Don't wait until I'm a monster."
The words came low. Not a threat. A request he hated needing to make.
Lyra looked at his face. At the gold burning behind his eyes. At the black lines beneath his skin.
"You think I won't stop you?"
"I think you'll hesitate."
"I don't hesitate."
"You did with me."
She pulled the blade across her palm.
Pain flashed hot and clean. Blood welled immediately. Caelan's hand jerked, but he did not let go.
Mira sucked in a breath. "Lyra, wait—"
Lyra slapped her bleeding hand against the cabinet.
The iron door bit down.
Not into her skin. Into the contract mark beneath it.
Red lines shot from her palm across the cabinet. They twisted into symbols she had never seen, then rearranged themselves into language. She could read every clause at once.
Payment required: blood of the stolen line.
Access denied: false identity.
Lyra's breath stopped.
"What does it say?" Caelan asked.
"It says the cabinet has terrible manners."
"Lyra."
"It says my blood isn't supposed to be here."
Mira stepped back. "Get your hand off it."
"Why?"
"Because it knows you."
"That's not possible."
"You don't understand. The court erased your identity when you were a child. If the cabinet recognizes your blood, it means—"
"It means what?"
The seal tightened around Lyra's palm. Her knees almost buckled.
Caelan caught her around the waist and held her upright. His chest pressed to her back again. His mouth was near her ear.
"Tell me to let go," he said.
She felt his breath move against her skin.
"If I tell you to, will you?"
"No."
"Then don't ask."
His arm tightened. "You are losing color."
"I'm fine."
"You always lie when you're afraid."
"You always talk when you're about to lose control."
"We make a good pair."
"Don't make this sweet."
"I wasn't trying to."
The cabinet shuddered. The iron door split down the center.
Every guard in the room turned toward it.
One of them whispered, "The bloodline seal."
Mira grabbed a fallen crossbow. "Open it, Lyra. Now."
"You know what it takes."
"Yes."
"You knew my blood could open it."
Mira's grip on the weapon shook. "I suspected."
"You lied to me."
"I kept you alive."
"Those aren't the same thing."
"They were when the court came for me."
The door split wider. A sharp pull yanked at Lyra's palm. Her vision blurred around the edges.
Caelan's hand moved to her shoulder. "Break the seal."
"Say please."
"Please break the seal before you collapse."
"Better."
She pushed harder.
The cabinet exploded open without a sound. A black ledger slid forward and landed against her bloodied hand. Its cover was cracked, its corners bound in tarnished silver. No dust touched it. No court seal marked it.
The real record.
The proof of Caelan's claim.
The guards rushed them.
Caelan shoved Lyra behind him and met the first attacker with his shoulder. They hit the floor together. Mira fired the crossbow past his head, and the bolt pinned the second guard's coat to the wall.
"Get the ledger!" Mira yelled.
Lyra grabbed it.
The instant her fingers closed around the cover, every lamp in the archive went out.
The ledger opened by itself.
Pages flipped too fast to read. Names blurred past in columns of black ink. Clan heirs. Blood witnesses. Children removed from records. Entire families struck through.
Caelan rose with blood on his mouth. "What is it doing?"
"Looking for the claim."
"Find mine."
"I'm trying."
"Try faster."
"You want to take over?"
"I want you to stop bleeding on the evidence."
The pages stopped.
One line appeared at the top of the paper in fresh red ink.
Caelan moved closer. His shoulder brushed Lyra's. The heat of him cut through the cold spreading from the ledger.
Mira stopped behind them.
"Don't read that page," she said.
Lyra stared at the words.
The first line carried a birth date she recognized. The same date printed on the fake identity papers she had used for years. The same date the court had stamped beneath the name Lyra Voss.
But that name was written underneath another one.
A name crossed out so violently the paper had torn.
Lyra's fingers went numb.
"What does it say?" Caelan asked.
She could barely hear him over the guards pounding toward them again.
Mira lowered the crossbow. Her face had gone white.
"You knew," Lyra said.
"I knew there was a record. I didn't know it would open for you."
"You knew enough."
"Lyra—"
"Read it."
Caelan looked down.
His eyes moved over the first line. Then they stopped.
The curse in his face vanished. Not faded. Vanished.
"That's not your name," he said.
Lyra's throat tightened. "I know what my name is."
"No. You know what they gave you."
The ledger's ink spread across the page, filling in the damaged letters one by one.
Mira whispered, "They stole more than your identity."
The archive door burst inward.
Enforcers flooded through the opening.
Caelan reached for Lyra, but she held the ledger against her chest and backed toward the broken cabinet.
"Say it," she demanded.
His gaze stayed on the name.
"Caelan. Say it."
He looked at her then. His face was hard, but his hand found hers anyway. His thumb pressed against the cut in her palm, sending a hot pulse through the bond.
"Your birth name is Lyrane Vey," he said. "And the bloodline beside it belongs to—"
The ledger snapped shut between them, and a second line of red ink burned across the cover: DAUGHTER OF THE WOLF CROWN.
Mira made a broken sound.
Lyra turned on her. "Whose daughter am I?"
Mira's lips parted, but no answer came.
Caelan stepped in front of Lyra as the enforcers raised their weapons. His hand closed around the blade again, and the gold returned to his eyes.
"Stay behind me," he ordered.
Lyra held the ledger tighter. "If you lie to me, I'll use this bond to drag you down with me."
"Then don't let me lie."
"Whose blood did they steal from me?"
Mira lifted one shaking hand toward the ledger. "Lyra, your mother wasn't just a witness to the wolf crown. She was—"
The nearest enforcer fired, and Caelan lunged as the bolt tore through the space between them, his blade rising toward the attacker's throat while Mira screamed, "She was the last—"