Page 9

LYRA

T he bouquet was waiting for her on the front desk.

Lyra blinked at the bundle of pale blue blossoms nestled in a crystal-wrapped vase, their petals shimmering with a faint glow like starlight trapped in bloom. Tiny flecks of silver dust shimmered in the air above them, drifting lazily like sleepy fireflies.

“What in the—?” she murmured, setting her teacup down with a soft clink on the side table.

“Delivery came just after sunrise,” Delia called from the hallway, arms full of paperwork. “Didn’t catch who dropped it. No note. But the magic’s stable. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Lyra asked, raising a brow.

Delia shrugged without stopping. “Well, it’s humming.” She headed to the back to make copies.

Lyra leaned closer. The scent was intoxicating—cool and a little wild, like rain on a moonlit meadow.

Moonflowers . Rare. Magical. They bloomed only under certain lunar cycles, and only if coaxed with the right energy.

And these weren’t just any moonflowers. These glowed.

Their magic was soft, quiet, almost romantic.

Her heart gave a traitorous flutter.

Was this…?

No. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

She glanced over her shoulder toward the north wing, where Jace’s office brooded in dignified silence.

He hadn’t spoken to her much today. Or yesterday, really.

Just that clipped warning about the northern ridge and a look that had lingered too long to mean nothing.

But he hadn’t scowled. He hadn’t barked.

And… maybe this was his way of saying something?

Maybe Calla was right.

“Don't touch that.”

Milo’s voice cut through her thoughts like cold water.

She turned to find the black cat perched on the ledge above the doorway, ears pinned flat, tail flicking like an angry metronome.

“I—what? They’re just flowers.”

“They’re not just anything,” he growled, leaping down with unnatural grace. “Step back.”

Lyra frowned, setting the vase gently on the reception counter. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being cautious. Which, considering your track record, should be my full-time job.”

She folded her arms, lips twitching. “They’re pretty. Magical moonflowers. Probably enchanted to smell appealing. Not like it’s a death hex.”

Milo sniffed the bouquet, then recoiled, fur puffing.

“Oh, that’s not good,” she muttered.

“Definitely not from your scowly alpha,” Milo hissed.

Her heart twisted. “You’re sure?”

“Jace’s scent would be all over it. Protective. Possessive. Pine and storm. This…” He sniffed again, nose wrinkling. “Smells like predator and rot covered up with roses. That’s Ezra Wolfe.”

Lyra felt her stomach drop. “What?”

Milo leapt onto the counter, glaring up at her. “You heard me. That smug, silver-tongued snake left you a magical calling card . And if he sent it to your work , he knows exactly where you are.”

She took a shaky step back, the sweet scent turning bitter in her throat. “But I don’t even know him. I’ve never met Ezra Wolfe.”

Milo stared. “That’s the problem , muffin. You shouldn’t be on his radar. And yet?—”

Lyra bit her lip, thoughts tumbling too fast. “Why would he send me anything?”

“Because he’s calculating. Dangerous. And from what I gather, he’s not used to hearing no.”

Lyra dropped onto the bench by the front desk, the edges of the vase glowing a little brighter as if reacting to her pulse. She chewed the inside of her cheek, voice barely above a whisper.

“Everyone in town gossips about him. I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“What do you know?”

“Just whispers. Petra said he’s got charm that turns to poison if you get too close. Delia said he tried to cozy up to the council years ago, then disappeared when Jace took over. He’s been circling ever since, looking for cracks in the Veil.”

She looked at Milo. “But this? Flowers? Why me?”

The cat sat beside her, tail curling. “Maybe because you’re his weakness.”

She stilled. “You mean Jace.”

Milo said nothing, which was louder than any answer.

She let out a slow breath, heart pounding now for different reasons. “I should tell him.”

“Yes,” Milo said without hesitation.

“But… what if he thinks I’m doing it for attention?” she asked, voice tight. “He already sees me as a nuisance half the time.”

“He sees you,” Milo corrected. “Whether he wants to or not.”

Lyra shook her head. “This’ll just make things worse. He’s barely looking me in the eye as it is. If he thinks Ezra’s sniffing around…” Her voice caught. “He’ll push me away. To protect me, or the pack. Or both. He might even fire me.”

“Or,” Milo said dryly, “he’ll go alpha-feral and rip Ezra’s throat out.”

She groaned. “Exactly. And then I’ll have to explain to the council that it’s because of some damned glowing flowers.”

“So what, then?” Milo asked. “You ignore it?”

She stood, brushing off her skirt, eyes hardening. “I deal with it. Quietly. My way.”

Milo grunted. “That’s never ended in disaster before.”

She arched a brow. “You have very little faith in me for someone who keeps napping on my pillow.”

“I’m your designated emotional support cryptid,” he said with a sniff. “Comes with the sass.”

She glanced at the bouquet again. Her chest still ached with the idea that maybe, for just a second, she’d thought they were from Jace.

She turned and opened the small closet beside the desk, grabbing an old stasis jar. With a muttered incantation, she stuffed the bouquet inside and sealed it shut with a rune.

“Evidence,” she said, mostly to herself. “Not a message.”

Then she tucked it under the desk, right behind the box labeled “Office Complaints – Magical Only,” and walked back toward the archives.

But her heart wasn’t light anymore.

And the next time she passed Jace in the hallway and he didn’t speak, she didn’t try to get his attention.

Because if he wouldn’t see her…

She’d have to figure out why everyone else was starting to.