Chapter 9 · The Impostor on the Throne

"Move, Lyra. Now."

Caelan shoved her behind the stone pillar as three silver bolts punched through the execution-room doors.

The bolts struck the wall where her head had been.

"That was my ear," Lyra snapped.

"You still have it. Be grateful."

"I’ll send you a thank-you card after I save your life."

Another bolt screamed past them. Caelan caught it inches from his chest. His hand closed around the shaft. Smoke curled between his fingers.

His eyes flashed gold.

Lyra grabbed his wrist. "Don’t shift."

His gaze dropped to her hand. "You’re giving me orders?"

"Yes. Because if you turn wolf in a sealed court chamber, the bond will tear through both of us."

"And if I don’t?"

"You die. I die. My brother gets executed anyway. Pick your favorite disaster."

For half a second, Caelan said nothing.

Then he crushed the bolt in his palm.

The doors shook under another impact. Beyond them, armored court hunters shouted over one another.

"Open the room!"

"The prisoner is still inside!"

"Seal the exits! No one leaves with the heir!"

Lyra looked past the pillar.