Penny flinched, visibly torn as she stood at the edge of the room, frozen between loyalty and fear. Her hands shook slightly, but she didn't move.
Lyra's eyes caught the faint tremble in Penny's frame—the way her shoulders stiffened, her breath faltered. It was subtle but unmistakable.
And in that moment, Seraphira's cruel words echoed louder in Lyra's mind.
"Take this woman away from my son before I behead both of you."
Penny was scared.
And Lyra understood why.
She knew exactly what Seraphira was capable of—how far the Queen would go to protect her legacy, her throne, and, most of all, her son. There was no bluff in that threat. No empty theatrics.
She would do it.
And Lyra—no matter how defiant her heart felt—couldn't let someone else pay the price for her resolve.
Especially not Penny.
