Chapter 23

Stay Away From Me

The fortress slept badly that night.

Lyra could feel it.

Wolves paced the lower courtyards restlessly enough that their claws scratched faintly against stone through the walls. Guards changed shifts more frequently near the western wing. Even the servants moved carefully through the halls like everyone instinctively understood something dangerous had settled over Blackfang and nobody wanted to disturb it accidentally.

And somewhere behind the western war room doors—

Kael was suffering.

Lyra tried ignoring it.

Truly.

She lasted nearly an hour.

“This is a terrible idea,” Mirelle informed her for the fourth time while standing in the doorway of the eastern chambers wrapped in a blanket.

Lyra pulled on boots.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re putting on boots emotionally.”

“That’s not a real sentence.”

“It is tonight.”

The moon fever had only worsened since Kael locked himself away.

Every nerve in Lyra’s body felt sharpened raw. Heat pulsed unpredictably beneath her skin while the silver markings along her wrists glowed faintly enough to illuminate the edges of her sleeves in darkness.

Worse—

she could still feel him.

Not magically.

Instinctively.

Like some invisible thread kept pulling her attention toward the western halls no matter how hard she resisted it.

“You should sleep,” Mirelle tried again.

Lyra grabbed her cloak.

“I can’t.”

That finally quieted the argument.

Because they both knew she meant it literally.

The western corridors stood nearly empty this late.

Only scattered torchlight flickered against black stone walls while snow battered the outer fortress windows hard enough to sound like distant whispers.

Lyra walked quietly.

Not because she feared being caught.

Because the entire fortress suddenly felt too still.

The war room doors stood closed exactly where Kael left them hours earlier.

No guards outside.

Interesting.

Or alarming.

Possibly both.

Lyra stopped a few feet away.

The sensible decision would have been turning around immediately.

Instead she noticed something strange.

Light.

Faint firelight spilled beneath the door.

And underneath it—

silence.

No pacing.

No movement.

Nothing.

“Kael?”

No answer.

Lyra hesitated briefly before pushing the door open slightly.

Just enough to look inside.

And immediately realized she’d made a catastrophic mistake.

The war room looked wrecked.

Maps scattered across the floor. One chair overturned near the fireplace. Several shattered whiskey glasses glittered dangerously against black stone while deep claw marks carved visibly across the edge of the massive strategy table.

Not metaphorical claw marks.

Actual claws.

And Kael—

Kael sat on the floor beside the far wall breathing hard enough that Lyra heard it instantly.

His dark shirt clung damply to his skin while his head rested briefly against the stone behind him like exhaustion alone no longer held enough weight for what he was fighting.

The moment the door opened fully—

his head snapped toward her.

The reaction hit the room violently.

Not outwardly.

Instinctively.

Lyra froze.

Because Kael looked genuinely feral for the first time since she met him.

Not monstrous.

Worse.

Human enough to understand exactly how close he stood to losing control.

His pupils had narrowed almost completely gold beneath the low firelight.

The scent of wolf and restraint flooded the room so heavily it stole breath from her lungs.

And despite everything—

despite the fear—

the sight of him sitting there wrecked by restraint did something painful to her chest.

“Lyra.”

Her name came rough.

Warning.

Prayer.

Both somehow.

“You’re hurt.”

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Kael laughed once beneath his breath.

Exhausted.

“Not the problem.”

Only then did Lyra notice the blood.

Fresh crescent-shaped cuts marked his forearms where claws had apparently broken through skin during partial shifting. One hand still trembled faintly against the floor beside him like his wolf kept trying to surface through sheer force alone.

“You should have let a healer come.”

Kael closed his eyes briefly.

“You are the problem.”

That should not have sent heat racing through her stomach.

Nothing about tonight should have felt intimate.

And yet the entire room vibrated with awareness so sharp it became impossible to separate fear from wanting anymore.

Lyra stepped forward before thinking.

One step.

That was all.

Kael physically flinched.

Not away from her.

Toward her.

Like instinct nearly overrode thought completely.

“Don’t.”

The command came instantly.

Strained hard enough to sound painful.

Lyra stopped moving.

Kael dragged one shaking hand down his face slowly before looking back toward her again.

And suddenly the exhaustion in him became devastatingly obvious.

“You should hate me right now,” he said quietly.

Lyra frowned.

“For what?”

“For the ballroom.”

“For tonight.”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“For the fact that every instinct I have right now is telling me to lock that door and keep you here until this fever breaks.”

Silence crashed hard between them.

The honesty of it should have terrified her more than it did.

Instead—

watching him sit there fighting himself bloody just to protect her choice—

something inside Lyra softened dangerously.

The fire cracked softly behind them.

Outside, snow hammered endlessly against the fortress walls.

And Kael kept looking at her like distance itself had become the only thing keeping him civilized.

“You’re shaking,” Lyra whispered.

“I know.”

The same answer from the infirmary weeks ago.

Only worse now somehow.

Lyra’s attention drifted briefly toward the claw marks torn through the wooden table.

Then toward his bleeding hands again.

“You’re hurting yourself trying to control it.”

Kael stared at her for several long seconds.

Then finally:

“You don’t understand what happens if I stop.”

The low roughness in his voice wrapped around her spine like heat.

Lyra swallowed carefully.

Part of her wanted to leave.

Part of her wanted to cross the room anyway.

The second part frightened her much more.

Kael noticed the hesitation immediately.

Of course he did.

He noticed everything about her now.

And suddenly—

his expression cracked.

Not violently.

Quietly.

Like restraint had simply become too exhausting to hold perfectly anymore.

“Please.”

The word came barely above a whisper.

Still enough to stop her breathing.

Kael lowered his head briefly against the stone wall behind him before forcing himself to look back at her again.

Eyes gold.

Hands trembling.

Every instinct in him visibly at war.

“Lyra,” he said softly, “you need to leave before I forget how.”