After Kael left, the room didn't warm up. In fact, it felt even colder. The chill clung to the walls. It seeped into every crack. It reminded Lyra of the frozen snow in the far west. The kind that never melts, no matter how long the sun shines on it.
Lyra didn't sleep that night.
She lay awake in silence. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. Her body didn't move. Her mind wouldn't rest.
When the first light broke through the windows, she got up. She didn't ring for a servant. She didn't speak a word.
She didn't wear her usual silk gowns. Those dresses represented something she no longer cared about. They belonged to the Duchess of Varyn. That title meant nothing to her now.
Instead, she wore something simple. A dark riding outfit. It hugged her figure. The fabric was thick and sturdy. It wasn't soft or gentle. But it made her feel stronger. It reminded her she still had control over herself.
She walked into her private study. It was a quiet room. Small. Personal. Safe.
On the bookshelves sat neat rows of ledgers and property records. All of it belonged to her. Or rather, to her mother before her. Now it was hers to command.
She walked along the shelves slowly. Her fingers brushed the spines of folders. One after another.
She pulled them down one by one. Her hands were steady. Her expression calm.
Two years ago, she had tied these businesses to the Varyn name. Now, she would take them back. She would undo everything herself. She would leave nothing behind.
Near her feet was a wooden chest. It was open, waiting.
Inside were only a few things. A pair of plain earrings. A few old journals from her mother. And a single ring. It bore the sigil of House Elowen—her mother's house.
There wasn't much. But these things… they mattered. They reminded her who she was.
Maria, her maid, came in carrying warm water. She stopped in the doorway, stunned.
Her lady stood in the center of the room. She was closing the last file and placing it into the chest. Her movements were too calm. Too quiet. Too final.
"My lady…" Maria whispered. Her voice cracked. Her eyes welled up.
She had served Lyra since she was a girl. She had followed her from the palace to the Varyn estate. She had seen everything.
Lyra didn't turn around. She kept her focus on the chest.
Maria took a step forward. She set the basin down. Her eyes were on the chest. Her hands were clenched.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Lyra didn't answer at first. She closed the chest gently.
Maria's voice trembled. "Are you really going to let this go? Just like that?"
Lyra turned then. Slowly.
The morning light hit her face. It showed how pale she was. How thin. How tired.
Her eyes didn't burn with anger. They didn't shimmer with tears.
They were empty. Quiet. Cold.
"Let it go?" she repeated. Her voice was soft.
She smiled, just barely. It wasn't a happy smile. It wasn't bitter either. It was hollow.
"Maria," she said. "My money doesn't feed traitors."
"And my life… it doesn't belong to a man who lies."
Her voice didn't shake. Her hands didn't tremble.
She meant every word.
This marriage had been a performance. From day one. Everyone else saw it. She was the only one who believed it might become real.
She had been the fool.
Divorce.
The word came to her now. Clear. Sharp. Solid.
But it would not be easy.
She wasn't just Kael Varyn's wife. She was the Crown Princess of the Thorne Kingdom.
And that title… it never protected her. Not even once.
Her mother, Sera Elowen, had died giving birth to her. She was the Empire's brightest jewel. But her light went out too soon.
Her father, King Aldric, never forgave Lyra for that. He gave his love to the memory of his wife. He gave his coldness to the daughter who reminded him of loss.
The queen who came after hated Lyra too. She saw her as a threat.
This marriage had been nothing but strategy. Her father used her like a pawn. He gave her to Kael to secure military strength.
Now she would ask for her freedom. But she needed a reason. A strong one. One the king couldn't ignore.
She moved to the window. She looked out. Far in the distance stood the royal palace. It looked calm. Silent. Cold.
Her fingers found the Elowen ring. She turned it slowly.
Her mother's face was still in hers. Her father had loved that face. Too much. Almost obsessively.
That was her first card.
The name Elowen still held weight. Their military glory hadn't vanished. Their name still mattered to the soldiers.
That was her second card.
And then, the businesses. Her mother's empire. If needed, she would trade a piece of it. Trade it for her own freedom.
That was her third card.
As she stood there, thinking, she heard footsteps. Fast. Loud. Arrogant.
The door flew open.
Jessica stormed in. Kael's mother. Dressed in purple velvet. Eyes full of fire.
Her gaze swept the room like a storm. She saw the chest. Her face twisted with rage.
"I heard what you said," she snapped.
Her voice was sharp. Harsh. Accusing.
"You're threatening Kael? Using money against him?"
Lyra turned slowly to face her.
Her expression didn't change.
Jessica straightened her back.
"I came to give you a chance to make things right," she said. "Kael is a man. He's a hero. He has needs."
"Selena saved his life. She's fragile. You should be kind."
Lyra stared at her.
"You want me to accept my husband keeping a mistress?" she asked. Her voice was low. Cold.
Jessica scoffed. "It's not a mistress. It's gratitude."
"Just stay in your place. You're the duchess. We'll treat you well. Selena's too weak to be a threat."
It sounded familiar.
Kael had said the same thing.
They all thought she only cared about status. About wealth.
Lyra's voice dropped to a whisper. "And if I don't?"
Jessica moved closer. Her voice turned sharp. Her face full of scorn.
"Don't push your luck."
"You've been here two years. You haven't given us an heir. Not even a sign."
"You're a barren woman. What right do you have to bargain?"
"Kael still lets you stay. You should be grateful."
That sentence hit like a blade.
The room went still.
Lyra smiled.
Jessica blinked. Confused.
Then—
"Smack!"
The slap rang out. Sharp. Clear. Loud.
Jessica stumbled back, clutching her cheek. It turned red in seconds.
"You… You hit me?" she gasped.
Lyra lowered her hand. Her skin was flushed.
She looked at Jessica. Her voice was quiet. Her tone was cutting.
"That was from the royal family."
"A lesson in what true nobility looks like."
"And the dignity of the royal family is inviolable."
Someone in the palace won't survive what comes next.