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He wasn’t giving her a reason to.

13

LYRA

The glowstones atThe Spellbound Sipshimmered in shades of amethyst and indigo, casting lazy, pulsing light across the café’s old stone walls. Music drifted through the air—half-charmed and half-chaotic—as the town’s first-ever karaoke night kicked off with a slightly off-key dryad duo warbling an old moonfolk lullaby.

Lyra sank into the plush booth besideCalla, her shoulders finally starting to relax for the first time in days. A mug of cinnamon-laced cider warmed her hands. The scent of baked apples and piney rosemary twined with the hum of background spells, everything cozy and just a little bit wild—the perfect recipe for forgetting that your boss was emotionally constipated and your life might be turning into a magical rom-com with extra brooding.

“I needed this,” she said, tilting her head back. “You have no idea.”

Calla smirked over her glass of sparkling potion wine. “Oh, I haveeveryidea. You practically teleported here.”

Lyra groaned. “Don’t tempt me. Ialmostdid.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Calla said. “The last time you blinked mid-emotion, we lost half the potted plants.”

“They attacked me first.”

“They were orchids.”

Lyra grinned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Calla, ever the perceptive cousin, leaned in, voice softer now. “Still thinking about him?”

“No,” Lyra said immediately. “Yes. Maybe. Definitely.”

Calla reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “He’s an idiot.”

Lyra sighed. “A handsome, complicated, emotionally repressed idiot.”

“That’s the worst kind.”

Lyra sipped her cider and let the warmth anchor her. “I told him off. Stood my ground. Thought I’d feel better.”

“And you don’t?”

“I feel… raw.” She shrugged. “Like I set a boundary and now I’m standing on the wrong side of it, watching him pretend it doesn’t matter.”

“He’ll come around,” Calla said. “Or he won’t. Either way, you’re still you. That’s the part that matters.”

Lyra nodded, letting the words settle. For once, she wasn’t in the mood to chase understanding or make excuses. Tonight, she just wanted to sing.

She leaned back and scanned the crowd. Familiar faces filled the café—Petra dancing barefoot in a corner with glowing bangles on her wrists, Amos the vampire arguing with the enchanted jukebox, and Delia sitting alone at the counter pretending to read a ledger while very clearly judging everyone’s song choices.

Just as she started to smile again, the door creaked open—and the air changed.

Jace walked in like he didn’t know how.

Tall, commanding, visibly uncomfortable in a space where magic fizzed through the air like soda bubbles. His dark shirt stretched across his shoulders, his jaw sharper than usual, and his expression… unreadable.

Lyra’s heart did something traitorous.

Calla’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, well. Look who the Veil dragged in.”

“Don’t,” Lyra whispered, suddenly feeling like she needed to fan herself with a coaster.

“I’m just saying,” Calla said, “when a man who never leaves his office shows up at karaoke night, there’s usually a reason.”

Lyra didn’t reply.