Chapter 1
**The Girl Who Was Never Meant to Be Sold **
001
The first thing Lyra Veyne did that morning was steal a peach.
The second was lie about it.
The third was get caught.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Elena Veyne stood at the kitchen doorway, staring at her daughter.
Lyra stared back.
There was a peach in Lyra’s left hand.
There was another peach in the pocket of her dress.
There was a third peach sitting very obviously on the table beside her.
Elena slowly raised one eyebrow.
Lyra smiled.
“Would you believe me if I said they were all there before I arrived?”
“No.”
“Worth trying.”
“Lyra.”
“Yes, Mother?”
“Put them back.”
Lyra sighed dramatically.
“They’ll die in the fruit basket.”
“They’re peaches.”
“Exactly. They have feelings.”
“They do not have feelings.”
“You don’t know that.”
Elena folded her arms.
Lyra folded hers too.
For several seconds, mother and daughter stared at one another across the kitchen.
Then Elena pointed toward the basket.
Lyra pointed toward the door.
Elena pointed harder.
Lyra sighed.
“Fine.”
She put the peach back.
Then she quietly pushed the other one deeper into her pocket.
Elena noticed.
“Lyra.”
“Yes?”
“Your pocket.”
Lyra looked down.
“Ah.”
“Put it back.”
“But this one is mine.”
“You haven’t paid for it.”
“I live here.”
“That isn’t how buying things works.”
“Then why do we have a pantry?”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Sometimes I wonder where you came from.”
Lyra grinned.
“You know exactly where I came from.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, I was there.”
Lyra laughed.
For a moment, everything was normal.
Warm sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows. The old clock on the wall ticked lazily. Somewhere outside, one of the stable boys was arguing with a horse.
Lyra loved mornings like this.
They made the world feel simple.
She had a mother who loved her.
A house that was slightly too large for the number of people living in it.
A library that was larger than the dining hall.
A garden that had become her personal kingdom.
And a thousand books waiting to be read.
She had even planned to spend the afternoon climbing the old western tower despite her mother’s repeated insistence that the tower was unsafe.
So naturally, that was exactly what she intended to do.
Then the front gates opened.
Lyra glanced toward the window.
A carriage entered the estate.
Black.
Gold-trimmed.
And surrounded by six armed riders.
Her smile vanished.
There was a crest painted on the carriage door.
A silver crown surrounded by seven stars.
The Imperial Crest.
Lyra slowly put down her cup.
“Mother.”
Elena didn’t answer.
“Mother.”
“I see it.”
“Why is the Imperial Guard here?”
“I don’t know.”
Lyra turned toward her.
“You’re lying.”
Elena’s hands stopped moving.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“How?”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“I am not terrible at lying.”
“You are when it’s about me.”
Elena looked away.
That was enough.
Lyra’s stomach tightened.
She hated that look.
Her mother had many expressions.
The one she was wearing now was reserved for things she desperately didn’t want Lyra to know.
Lyra pushed away from the table.
“Where’s Father?”
“In his study.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Another lie.”
“Lyra—”
But Lyra was already walking away.
“Don’t go in there.”
She stopped.
“Why?”
Elena didn’t answer.
Lyra turned slowly.
“Why?”
“Because your father is speaking with someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve said that three times.”
“Because I don’t know.”
Lyra studied her.
Then her eyes narrowed.
“Is it dangerous?”
Elena hesitated.
That hesitation was answer enough.
Lyra’s hand went automatically to the small knife at her waist.
Elena noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinking about doing something.”
“I think about lots of things.”
“Usually dangerous things.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
Lyra considered it.
“No.”
Elena sighed.
“Stay here.”
Lyra smiled.
“Of course.”
Elena walked away.
Lyra waited exactly three seconds.
Then followed.
The Veyne estate had belonged to Lyra’s family for generations.
It was an old place, built from pale stone and dark wood, with narrow corridors, enormous windows and enough unused rooms to make getting lost an enjoyable pastime.
Lyra knew every corridor.
Every staircase.
Every hidden passage.
Every loose floorboard.
She also knew precisely which one creaked loud enough to expose her.
She avoided it.
She slipped around the corner of the study.
Voices came from behind the closed door.
Her father’s.
And another man’s.
Lyra leaned closer.
“You were given six months.”
The stranger’s voice was calm.
Too calm.
Darian Veyne answered quietly.
“I know.”
“You were given an additional three.”
“I know.”
“And yet the debt remains.”
Silence.
Lyra frowned.
Debt?
She hadn’t known her father owed money.
The stranger continued.
“The Crown has been patient, Lord Veyne.”
“I am grateful.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
Lyra’s eyebrows rose.
That sounded ominous.
She leaned closer.
A floorboard creaked.
Inside the room, silence.
Lyra froze.
The door opened.
Her father stood there.
His face went pale when he saw her.
“Lyra.”
She smiled.
“Hello.”
“What are you doing?”
“Walking.”
“In front of my study?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s where the corridor is.”
“You were listening.”
“No.”
Her father stared at her.
Lyra sighed.
“Yes.”
A second man stood behind him.
Lyra looked at him.
He was tall.
Dark-haired.
Dressed simply, but too well for an ordinary traveller.
There was something strange about him.
Not frightening.
Not exactly.
Just...
wrong.
As though he had walked into the house from somewhere that wasn’t quite the same world.
His eyes moved to Lyra.
For one brief moment, his expression changed.
Recognition.
Then it disappeared.
Lyra noticed.
Of course she noticed.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“Eren.”
“That’s not a surname.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need one.”
Lyra frowned.
“That’s suspicious.”
Her father sighed.
“Lyra.”
“What?”
“Go upstairs.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Lyra.”
“Father.”
“You are being difficult.”
“I’ve been difficult since childhood. You knew what you were getting.”
Eren looked amused.
Lyra pointed at him.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was smiling.”
“That’s worse.”
Her father rubbed his forehead.
“Eren is a representative of the Crown.”
Lyra’s eyes moved toward the Imperial Crest visible through the window.
“Oh.”
She looked at Eren again.
“Are you here to collect the debt?”
The room went silent.
Her father’s face changed.
Eren’s smile disappeared.
Lyra’s stomach dropped.
She hadn’t meant to hit the truth so quickly.
But nobody answered.
She looked at her father.
“What debt?”
“Lyra—”
“What debt?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Then explain it.”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with it.”
“It’s my family.”
“Exactly.”
“Then it concerns me.”
Darian looked away.
Lyra’s voice became quieter.
“Father.”
He didn’t answer.
She stepped closer.
“How much?”
“Lyra.”
“How much do you owe?”
“Enough.”
“That isn’t a number.”
“I know.”
“Then give me one.”
He couldn’t.
That scared her more than anything else.
Her father was a proud man.
He would rather admit he had broken his own bones than admit he couldn’t pay a debt.
Lyra looked at Eren.
“Why is the Crown involved?”
Eren didn’t answer.
“Why?”
He glanced at Darian.
Then back at her.
“You’ll know soon enough.”
Lyra hated that answer.
She hated it more than almost anything.
“That’s a stupid phrase.”
Eren raised an eyebrow.
“What is?”
“‘You’ll know soon enough.’”
“Why?”
“Because people only say it when they know something terrible and don’t want to tell you.”
Eren smiled faintly.
“You’re observant.”
“I’m nosy.”
“That too.”
Lyra’s eyes narrowed.
Something about him bothered her.
She couldn’t explain it.
Then her gaze dropped to his hand.
A black glove.
On the back of it was a tiny symbol.
Seven lines arranged around a circle.
Lyra stopped breathing.
For half a second, something beneath her skin burned.
A thin crimson glow appeared beneath the veins of her wrist.
She immediately pulled her sleeve down.
Eren saw.
His expression changed.
“You still have it.”
Lyra stared at him.
“What?”
He said nothing.
Her father looked between them.
“What did you say?”
Eren’s face became unreadable.
“Nothing.”
Lyra’s heart began beating faster.
She knew that symbol.
She had seen it before.
Years ago.
In one of the books.
One of the books she wasn’t supposed to have.
One of the books Eren had given her when she was four.
Her fingers curled.
The strange warmth beneath her skin pulsed again.
She whispered so quietly that nobody should have heard:
“Stop.”
The warmth vanished.
Eren watched her.
Very carefully.
Then he said:
“She still doesn’t know.”
Lyra looked at him.
“Know what?”
Neither man answered.
Her patience snapped.
“Fine.”
She turned toward the door.
“Don’t tell me.”
Her father looked surprised.
“You don’t have to.”
Lyra looked back.
“I’ll find out myself.”
She walked away.
Behind her, she heard Eren say something.
She couldn’t make out the words.
But she heard her father’s response.
“No.”
Then Eren said:
“She has to leave tomorrow.”
Lyra stopped.
Her blood went cold.
Tomorrow?
She turned around.
“What?”
Both men froze.
Lyra stared at her father.
“What did he just say?”
Darian closed his eyes.
“Lyra...”
“What did he say?”
“Go upstairs.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Lyra.”
“Why do I have to leave tomorrow?”
Her father’s silence answered her.
She looked at Eren.
Then back at her father.
And suddenly, the pieces she’d been refusing to see began fitting together.
The carriage.
The guards.
The debt.
The Crown.
Her father’s frightened face.
She swallowed.
“No.”
Darian’s voice was barely audible.
“Lyra.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then explain it.”
He couldn’t.
Lyra’s eyes filled with disbelief.
“Who?”
Darian finally looked at her.
“The Crown Prince.”
Lyra stared.
“...What?”
“You are going to the capital.”
“Why?”
Darian’s voice broke.
“Because the Crown Prince has agreed to take responsibility for the debt.”
Lyra’s face went blank.
Then—
“Take responsibility?”
“Yes.”
“And what does he get?”
Darian said nothing.
Lyra’s voice dropped.
“What does he get?”
Eren answered.
“You.”
The room became completely silent.
Lyra stared at him.
Then she laughed.
Once.
A short, disbelieving laugh.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“That’s funny.”
“No.”
“It’s not.”
“No.”
Her smile disappeared.
“You’re selling me.”
Darian flinched.
“I had no choice.”
Lyra looked at him.
For once, she didn’t have a clever answer.
She simply stared.
The boy she had once been came rushing back to her.
A little girl running through the gardens.
Her mother’s arms around her.
Rony laughing beside her.
Books stacked beside her bed.
A stranger kneeling in front of her when she was four, placing a tiny red stone into her palm.
A strange voice telling her:
Keep this.
A second voice telling her:
Never show anyone.
Lyra blinked.
The memories disappeared.
She looked at her father again.
“You sold me.”
Darian’s eyes filled with tears.
“I am sorry.”
Lyra’s jaw tightened.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to break something.
She wanted to use the magic humming beneath her skin and make every person in the room regret breathing.
Instead, she smiled.
It was not a happy smile.
“Fine.”
Her father stared at her.
“Fine?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll go?”
Lyra picked up her bag from the chair.
“I’ll go.”
She walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
She turned.
“One thing.”
Darian looked at her.
“If the Crown Prince thinks buying me means he owns me...”
Her smile returned.
Bright.
Dangerous.
Entirely Lyra.
“He’s going to be very disappointed.”
And she walked away.
Behind her, the Eldritch Stone pulsed beneath her skin.
Once.
Twice.
Almost like laughter.
Lyra glanced at her wrist.
“Oh, shut up.”
The glow disappeared.
Tomorrow, Lyra Veyne would leave the only home she had ever known.
Tomorrow, she would meet Crown Prince Caelan Ardent.
And neither Lyra nor Caelan knew that their lives had already been connected for thirteen years.
Neither knew that the Crown Prince’s missing little brother had once slept beneath the same roof as Lyra.
Neither knew that the mysterious stone beneath Lyra’s veins was older than the kingdom itself.
And neither knew that someone had been waiting for this meeting since the night the Imperial Palace burned.
For now, however, Lyra had only one concern.
She still had a peach in her pocket.
And she had no intention of giving it back.
