Page 41

LYRA

I f the battle had been fire and fury, then the days that followed were stitched together with soft laughter, sticky fingers, and a kind of peace Lyra had only ever dreamed about.

Celestial Pines was healing.

Not in some grand, world-shaking kind of way—but in the little things.

The sweet kind.

Like the sound of shifter pups tearing through the garden behind Moonfang Keep, chasing each other with wild grins and muddy paws while Calla yelled at them for trampling her foxglove.

Or the way Milo had dragged an entire branch into the main hall and declared it his new throne, demanding someone “bedazzle it appropriately for a cat of royal lineage.”

Lyra had snorted so hard cider came out her nose.

“You let a cat boss you around?” Jace had teased, arms crossed as he leaned in the doorway that evening.

She’d looked him dead in the eye and replied, “Better than letting an Alpha think he’s in charge.”

He’d kissed her after that.

Long and slow.

The kind that curled her toes and made her forget every scar.

By the third evening after the Pact’s renewal, the town had gathered without formal plan or announcement. Word just spread , like smoke or magic. Tables were dragged into the square, string lights blinked to life across tree branches, and Tansy brewed enough cider to drown a mid-sized bear shifter.

The whole town turned up.

Calla passed out flower crowns.

Logan played the lute, terribly.

Even Mrs. Heller danced a little with the fey ambassador, who blushed so brightly he nearly glowed.

Lyra stood near the edge of the crowd, a cup of warm cider in her hands, watching the life she’d fought for unfold like a dream.

She barely noticed when Jace walked up beside her, until his hand found the small of her back—warm, familiar, anchoring.

He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “You good?”

She nodded, smile soft. “Better than.”

He held up something shiny and crooked.

She blinked. “Is that… Milo’s crown?”

“It fell off when he was chasing the berry tart.”

They both turned toward the Keep steps, where Milo was currently screeching at a toddler shifter for daring to touch his “scepter” (which was, in fact, a very gnarled stick).

Lyra shook her head, laughter bubbling up. “I’m living in a cartoon.”

“You love it.”

“I do. ” She turned to face Jace. “I love all of this.”

He watched her for a beat, eyes soft in that way they only got when he looked at her like she was the moon and every star that came with it.

“What?” she asked, heart fluttering.

“Nothing.” He leaned in, kissed her temple. “Just admiring my chaos witch.”

She nudged him. “Flatter me again and I might even dance with you.”

“Oh, now that’s a bribe.”

But she set her cider aside anyway, tugging him by the hand toward the center of the square. The music picked up—sweet and clumsy, full of charm—and they moved together like the world had narrowed to this single, perfect night.

Jace wasn’t much of a dancer.

Too stiff. Too focused.

But when she laughed and spun, he followed. When she stumbled into him, he caught her like gravity. And when their bodies pressed close under the glow of enchanted lanterns, neither of them pulled away.

“Hey,” she murmured against his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever felt like I belong somewhere.”

His arms tightened around her.

“Then it’s long overdue.”

She smiled, heart full.

She didn’t need spells or fire or fury. She just needed this .

Him.

Home.