Daevan's POV
Daevan moved without thinking.
He threw himself in front of Lyra as the ice spear flew toward her. It slammed into his shoulder instead of her heart. Pain exploded through his arm, cold and sharp and burning all at once. Blood bloomed across his shirt.
"Daevan!" Lyra's scream cut through the air.
He gritted his teeth and ripped the ice from his shoulder. It shattered in his hand, crimson scales spreading up his neck as his dragon surged forward.
"Seraphine," he growled. "What are you doing?"
The Ice Duke's daughter stepped through the ruined wall, frost crackling beneath her feet. More guards in Frostwyn colors poured in behind her—a dozen armed soldiers surrounding them.
"What am I doing?" Seraphine's laugh was cold and bitter. "I'm finishing what should have been finished three years ago. The little bond-breaker dies. Tonight."
Daevan shifted, keeping himself between Seraphine and Lyra. His shoulder throbbed but he ignored it. "You attack her, you attack me."
"Oh, I know." Seraphine's smile widened. "That's rather the point, darling. You humiliated me. Destroyed my family's estate. Left me with nothing but shame and whispers." Her eyes glittered with frozen rage. "So I'm going to take everything from you, starting with her."
Behind him, Daevan felt Lyra struggling to stand. She was weak from the ritual, barely able to stay on her feet. If Seraphine attacked again—
"Run," Daevan said quietly over his shoulder.
"What?" Lyra's voice was sharp.
"The tunnel. Go. Now."
"I'm not leaving you to—"
"Go!" He roared the word, letting his dragon bleed into his voice. The walls shook. Several of Seraphine's guards stepped back nervously.
Lyra hesitated. He felt her indecision through those impossible bond-fragments—the pull between them growing stronger even now.
"Please," Daevan said, softer this time. "I can't protect you if I'm worried about you getting hurt. Let me handle this."
For three heartbeats, silence.
Then Lyra ran.
She dove for the tunnel opening, moving fast despite her exhaustion. Daevan heard her crawl into the darkness and relief flooded through him.
Safe. She was safe.
"How touching," Seraphine said. "The Crown Prince still plays hero for his broken bond-mate. Tell me, Daevan—does she know you're the reason I want her dead?"
Daevan's blood turned to ice. "What are you talking about?"
"If you'd married me like you were supposed to, I wouldn't need revenge." Seraphine raised both hands. Ice magic swirled around her fingers, beautiful and deadly. "But you chose her over duty. Over honor. Over your own empire. So now you'll watch her die the way I've died inside every day since you abandoned me."
She threw another ice spear—not at Daevan this time, but at the tunnel entrance where Lyra had disappeared.
"NO!"
Daevan's dragon exploded out of him. Crimson scales covered his entire body. His bones cracked and shifted, wings tearing through his shirt. He launched himself at the ice spear in mid-transformation, catching it with clawed hands.
The magic burned against his scales but he held on, crushing it to powder.
Behind him, Seraphine's guards shouted in alarm. Most humans never saw a dragon's true form—Daevan hadn't shifted in three years, keeping his beast locked away because without Lyra, his dragon was too unstable to control.
But Lyra was in danger.
And his dragon would burn the world before letting anything happen to its mate.
Daevan spun, fully transformed now—massive crimson dragon filling the small workshop. His tail smashed through the ritual circle. His wings knocked over what was left of the furniture.
Seraphine's smug expression cracked. "You wouldn't dare attack me. The Council would—"
Daevan roared.
The sound shook the entire building. Windows shattered. Seraphine's guards dropped their weapons and fled, screaming. Even Seraphine stumbled backward, fear finally showing in her frost-blue eyes.
Good. Let her be afraid.
Daevan gathered fire in his throat, ready to burn her to ash—
"Stop!"
The command echoed from the tunnel entrance.
Daevan's head whipped around.
Lyra stood there, hands raised and glowing with silver-green magic. She looked furious and terrified and so beautiful it made his chest ache.
"Don't kill her," Lyra said. "You kill a Council member's daughter, Veyra will have you executed. Even Crown Princes aren't above the law when it comes to murder."
"She tried to kill you," Daevan's voice came out rough and inhuman through his dragon form.
"I know." Lyra's eyes met his. "But I won't let you destroy yourself for revenge. Not again."
The words hit him like a physical blow.
Not again.
She meant the Ice Duke's estate. The fire he'd set three years ago that had nearly gotten him stripped of his title. He'd been so consumed with rage and grief that night—feeling Lyra sever their bond, feeling her slip away—that he'd burned everything connected to the marriage that had driven her away.
Lyra had saved him from himself then, even without knowing it.
And she was doing it again now.
Daevan forced his dragon back down. The transformation reversed—scales receding, wings dissolving, bones shifting back to human form. Within seconds he stood on two legs again, breathing hard and covered in blood from his shoulder wound.
Seraphine stared at both of them. "You're protecting him. After what he did to you." She laughed, high and broken. "You really are pathetic."
"Get out," Lyra said coldly. "Before I change my mind about letting you live."
"This isn't over." Seraphine backed toward the hole in the wall. "The Council knows about you now, Scarlet Veil. They know you're bond-breaking. Veyra herself is coming for you." Her smile turned vicious. "And when the Grand Matriarch asks me where to find you, I'll tell her everything. Including who you really are—the Crown Prince's severed mate who somehow survived the impossible."
She disappeared through the wall, ice magic sealing it behind her.
Silence fell over the ruined workshop.
Daevan turned to face Lyra. She stood with her back against the tunnel entrance, watching him with those emerald eyes that saw right through every wall he'd ever built.
"You came back," he said quietly. "Why?"
"I don't know." Lyra's voice shook. "You were going to kill her. Going to throw everything away. Again. For me. And I—" She stopped, pressing her hand to her chest. "I felt it. Felt your rage through these stupid bond-fragments. Felt you ready to burn the world. Just like before."
Daevan took a careful step toward her. "The bond isn't dead."
"Don't."
"You feel it too. Every time we're close, every time we touch—the fragments recognize each other. They're trying to reconnect."
"I severed it for a reason!" Lyra's voice rose. "You broke my heart, Daevan. You chose duty and your mother's approval over me. You were going to marry someone else and keep me as your secret shame. I couldn't—I wouldn't live like that."
"I know." The admission tore from his throat. "I know what I did. I was a coward. I let my mother manipulate me. I thought I could have both—keep the empire happy and keep you hidden and safe. I was wrong. So wrong." He moved closer, desperate. "But I never married Seraphine. I never bonded with anyone else. The moment I felt you severing our connection—felt you dying—I knew I'd made the worst mistake of my life."
Tears shone in Lyra's eyes. "It's too late."
"Is it?" Daevan stopped an arm's length away. Close enough to see the silver scars on her chest, the ones that matched the empty space where his bond-mark used to burn. "You came back to stop me from killing Seraphine. You protected me even though you hate me. Why?"
"I don't—" Lyra's voice cracked. "I don't know."
"You know." He reached for her hand, moving slowly so she could pull away if she wanted. "These bond-fragments are still there because what we had was real. Natural. The kind of bond the Council says doesn't exist. And you can't kill something that real, Lyra. Not completely. Not when both our souls still reach for each other."
His fingers brushed hers.
The bond-fragments exploded with light.
Gold and crimson magic wrapped around both of them, visible and pulsing and undeniable. Daevan gasped as emotions flooded through the connection—not just his feelings, but hers too.
Her anger. Her pain. Her fear.
And underneath it all—love. Buried deep and wounded and bleeding, but still there. Still alive.
"No," Lyra whispered, staring at their joined hands. "No, this is impossible. I severed every thread. I used blood magic from the Obsidian Chasm. It should have killed the bond completely."
"Maybe you can't kill something that was never artificial to begin with." Daevan's voice was rough with hope and desperation. "The Council creates forced bonds that can be broken. But we found each other naturally. Our souls chose each other. That's why fragments survived—because what we have is stronger than any ritual."
Lyra tried to pull her hand away, but the magic held them together. She looked up at him with tears streaming down her face. "You're lying. This is just—it's just residual magic. It doesn't mean anything."
"Then why can you feel my heartbeat matching yours right now?"
Her breath caught.
"Why can you feel how much I've missed you?" Daevan continued, letting everything pour through their connection. Three years of searching. Three years of slowly going mad. Three years of regret so deep it had carved him hollow. "Why can you feel that I'd give up my crown, my title, my entire empire if it meant having you back?"
"Stop," Lyra sobbed.
"I love you." The words came out raw and broken. "I never stopped. I never will. And I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I hurt you in ways I can't fix. But these bond-fragments prove we're not done. Our story isn't over."
"Yes, it is!" Lyra screamed. She finally ripped her hand away and the connection snapped, leaving them both gasping. "It's over because I can't trust you! You say you love me now, but what happens when your mother demands another political marriage? What happens when duty calls again? You'll choose the empire over me. You always will."
"I won't—"
"You already did!" Her voice echoed in the ruined workshop. "And I won't give you the chance to break me twice."
She turned toward the tunnel.
"Lyra, please—"
"Stay away from me, Daevan." She looked back over her shoulder, emerald eyes blazing through tears. "The bond is dead. These fragments are just ghosts. And ghosts can't hurt me if I don't let them."
She disappeared into the tunnel.
This time, Daevan didn't follow.
He stood alone in the destroyed workshop, his shoulder bleeding, his dragon howling inside his chest.
But he'd felt her love through their connection. Felt it despite her denials.
She still loved him.
Which meant he still had a chance.
Daevan pressed his hand to his chest, where the bond-fragments burned like embers waiting to reignite.
"I'll prove myself," he whispered to the empty room. "Whatever it takes. However long it takes. I'll prove I've changed."
He turned to leave—and froze.
Standing in the doorway was Grand Matriarch Veyra herself.
The ancient dragon woman smiled coldly, her gold eyes gleaming with terrible knowledge.
"Crown Prince Daevan," she said softly. "We need to discuss your connection to the bond-criminal known as the Scarlet Veil. And why fragments of a supposedly severed bond still link you to a woman who should be dead."