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Bride’s Mercy clamps down again, vicious as a trap. And I scream.

And Valentin’s control snaps. He reaches me, catches me as I pitch forward, but he doesn’t cover my mouth, doesn’t command silence. He drops to his knees with me, hands at my shoulders, his forehead nearly touching mine.

‘I am here,’ he says. ‘Stay with me, Eira. I’m here.’

The words enter my mind and my ears and I cling to them.

‘If you insist on this madness, you do it with me.’

My fingers fist in his shirt. I’m shaking so hard I can barely hold myself upright.

The Glass fills the room with red light, and in the largest shard, Eira Cross flickers. The girl in the bedroom flickers. Then another face begins to emerge beneath both.

Mine. All mine.

The gag twists and I taste blood, old magic, fear, and the bitter edge of Selphine’s hands on my fate.

Shudders pummelling my body, I push everything I have into the word.

Not around it. Through it. Even though my tongue barely works and my throat feels shredded, I push. Valentin holds me like he can keep my bones together by force.

The first syllable tears free. ‘Ly⁠—’

He goes rigid. The whole Tower stills.

I sob once, because pain has become too large for pride. Then I drag the rest of the name out of the dark. ‘Ly… ra.’

The Glass explodes with light.

Valentin stops breathing. The mark at his throat burns black-red, then silver, then black again.

The spell inside me shrieks harsher, more vicious.

I keep going, because a name alone is not enough. Selphine hid more than a sound. She hid a girl. A night and a life.

My hands clutch Valentin’s shirt. His face is inches from mine. I see the exact second understanding begins to form and refuses itself because the truth is too enormous to accept without breaking something.

I give him the break. ‘My name,’ I whisper, blood spilling down my chin, ‘is Ly… ra H-Hann… igan.’

The Heartshard Glass shines so bright it turns the room white.

Valentin’s hands tighten on me even as his expression empties. Then fills with something so vast I cannot read it. Shock. Recognition. Ruin. Salvation.

Betrayal.

The end of one hunt and the beginning of every consequence. And I’m still on my knees in his arms when I lift my bloodied mouth one final time.

‘I’m… Lyra Hannigan.’

23

VALENTIN

My name is Lyra Hannigan.

The declaration does not merely enter the room.

It destroys it.