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Laughter rose again, including from the bearded man in the throne-like chair.

“Psycho,” the human said, though the word came out muffled. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to the guy on the floor or the man up on the chair watching it all and doing nothing to stop it.

Her name. It came back like a wave on the tide, sweeping in then threatening to drift away again, not tangible enough for her to grab onto and keep.

Lily Baker.

That was it.

Her hair was grabbed.

She shrieked as her head was tipped upwards. The black-haired guy gazed down at her with darkened eyes. “Tonight is going to be fun,” he said with a growl, “Lily Baker.”

Lily Baker. Lily Baker. Lily Baker. She couldn’t forget. No matter what, she couldn’t forget that name—

A loud boom shook the room from two large doors smashing open, and the black haired-guy’s grip fell from her hair. Every soul in the space went quiet as the noise reverberated and women’s skirts fluttered in a cold wind. Someone marched in.

Lily’s eyes fell on the newcomer, but she couldn’t quite make him out. She thought he had white hair and blue eyes, but she knew better than to believe it—she’d seen that enough in the last place; she’d fallen for that trick over and over. It wasn’t him.

Chatter erupted and nearby people gasped and yelped as he pulled a crossbow around from behind his back. Muffled whispers of, “Isn’t that the Lyro?” and “Isn’t he now the Lyro House heir?” reached her ears.

“Lily Baker,” the guy shouted over the space.

Lily Baker… that was her. Lily’s muscles flexed, and her body jolted like it was standing at attention. Then he shouted, “Punch him. And make it good.”

Punchhim? Who?

As if her body knew even when her mind didn’t, Lily turned toward the black-haired guy. Her big eyes settled upon him, and his face blanched.

She clocked him.

The guy took it right in the teeth, sprawling backward and ending up on the floor again.

“Ha! That was perfect,” the newcomer said. His grin was wide and hazardously handsome, and Lily stared at it as something doubled over in her chest.

It was a delusion. He wasn’t real. She’d thought she’d seen him so many times already, she refused to believe that this thing standing before her was anything but a hollow figment of her imagination. She even whacked him to prove it, but her hand collided with a strong chest.

She stared at her hand, at his chest.

His hand lifted and wrapped around hers. A gold ring she hadn’t seen before circled his forefinger.

“You can’t have her,” he shouted up at the bearded man in the chair. “She’s mine.”

“Shayne…” Lily tried to whisper the word to ask, but her mouth made no sound; just rasp came out. She cleared her throat to try again.

“It’s me.”

Lily’s question dissolved in her mouth. She stared at where a warm hand held hers against his chest.

He tugged her to him, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and began leading her in the direction of the large doors he’d come through. Murmurs rang through the space, filling Lily’s ears.

“Heir of the Lyro House,” the bearded man’s voice boomed. “You can’t take a human from a banquet unless you wish to die—”

Shayne turned around, lifted his crossbow, and he fired.

People screamed as the arrow split through the air and pierced the bearded man’s chest. The room erupted in noise and running and shouting. Burgundy blood blossomed around the arrow as the man’s eyes went wide in shock. He crumpled off his decorated seat.

“You’re all correct!” Shayne shouted at the people. “Iamthe future High Lord of the House of Lyro! And my House wishes for war!”