Chapter 15: Lyra Ignisar

Auryn woke to pain—muscles aching, ribs throbbing, hands burning.He forced himself upright despite his body’s violent protest.

Late morning sunlight streamed through the window. He’d slept longer than intended.

His armor lay discarded in the corner, blood-stained, and torn. Someone had removed it while he slept.

Probably Borin.

His shirt was gone too. Bandages wrapped around his torso. Clean and well-made. Definitely not the makeshift ones he’d done.

Lyra.

He recalled the previous night. The courtyard. She ran to him. Holding him like he might disappear in the next second. Her warmth reminding him there was more to this than survival.

She’d helped him to his chambers. Called for the healers and stayed with him while they worked.

He’d passed out somewhere in the middle of it. Now it was morning and she was gone.

The door opened. And the woman that filled his mind entered. Silver hair pulled back. Simple green dress. Amber eyes tired but alert.

She carried a tray containing a small water basin and clean bandages. Herbs in small pouches.

She walked with grace. Each step causing her clothes to shift at her curves.

“You’re awake.” Her voice was soft and careful.

“Unfortunately.” He tried to smile but winced instead. Eyes on her body but only for a moment.

She set the tray on the bedside table. Pretending she wasn’t aware he looked at her. She sat on the edge of the bed. Close but not touching. Teasing.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I got stabbed by twelve assassins.”

“You were stabbed by twelve assassins..” She affirmed.

“Then accurate.” He tried to joke.

She didn’t smile. Just studied his face. Looking for something.

“Let me see your hands.”

He held them out. The bandages looked awful and crude. His own work from yesterday. Blood had soaked through. Dark stains spread.

Lyra unwrapped them carefully. Meticulously. Each layer revealed more damage.

The burns were worse than he remembered. Blistered. Blackened in places. The skin where he’d gripped Cinderfang looked like melted wax.

Lyra suddenly forgot to breathe. “What did this?”

“The sword.” He kept his voice level. “It didn’t want me. I convinced it.”

She stared at his palms. “A sword did this?”

“It’s… complicated.” He looked away.

“Everything with you is complicated.”

He couldn’t argue that. Only a deep sigh escaped his lips. She dipped cloth in water. Began cleaning the wounds.

She was gentle and soft with him. The water stung but he didn’t flinch. Did his best to hide the pain.

“This should have been treated immediately,” she said. “Why didn’t you—”

“There was no time. I had to fight. Had to get home.”

“You could have lost your hands.” She glared.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve lost.”

She looked up sharply. Meeting his eyes.

He realized what he’d said. How it sounded.

Careful. She’s already suspicious. He thought.

But she didn’t press. Just returned to cleaning.

“The sword,” she said after a moment. “Where is it now?”

“Safe.”

“Can I see it?”

“Maybe later.”

“Why not now?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

She didn’t argue. But her jaw tightened. Concern in her eyes. He was holding back on her.

She applied salve to the burns. It looked herbal and smelled like mint. The relief was immediate. A cool feeling ran down his body. Soothing his pain.

“This will help,” she said. “But the scars will remain.”

“I know.”

She wrapped new bandages. Clean linen. Her hands were steady and deliberate.

He watched her work. Noticed the way she moved. She was efficient and caring. Like this mattered to her despite their last encounter.

She still cares. Even though she suspects. Even though she knows something’s wrong.

“Lyra—”

“Don’t.” She cut him off. Didn’t look up. “Not yet. Let me finish.”

He closed his mouth. She tied off the bandages, clean with perfect knots.

Then pulled a small vial from her purse. It contained a thick and dark liquid.

“Pain tonic. The healers concocted it. You should take it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” She held it out. “Drink.”

He took the vial. Sighed deeply and then uncorked it. He drank in one gulp.

“Tch”

It tasted like dirt and regret. He grimaced, unable to fake it.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” The ghost of a smile crossed her face.

“Awful.” He hissed.

“Good medicine usually is.”

She stood. Moved to gather the soiled bandages. He caught her wrist gently.

She froze to his touch.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For this. For last night. For… staying.”

She looked at his hand on her wrist. Then at his face. His eyes were locked on hers.

“Where else would I be?”

There was something in her voice. A sense of sadness and resignation. Yet she craved this. He didn’t need Author’s eyes to tell.

She pulled free softly—not harsh, just.. withdrawn. Gathered the worn out bandages and turned away.

“I’ll send for breakfast.”

“Lyra—” He called.

The door opened before he could continue. Borin entered. Carrying a tray loaded with food.

Some bread, cheese, meat, eggs. Greens and water. Enough for three people.

“Morning, lad!” His voice boomed. Too loud for Auryn’s headache. “Heard you were awake.”

Lyra paused. Looked between them.

Borin set the tray on the desk. Grinned at her. “Morning lass. Making sure this stubborn fool doesn’t die?”

“Someone has to.” She moved past him. Stopped at the door and looked back at the them with eye brow raised.

“Eat. Both of you.”

Her voice was stern like she was scolding kids. This two were giving her headaches, constantly putting themselves in bad situations.

Borin and Auryn looked at eachother and then at Lyra whose eyebrow was still raised.

Goofy smiles on their faces as they answered in Unison.

“Yes ..Ma’am”

” “

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