Lyra held tightly to Kieran’s arm as he guided her across the snow-covered path. Her legs were still weak, and the poison hadn’t fully left her body. But she had asked to leave the room — just for a little while.

She needed air. She needed space to think.

She could still hear the voice in her head. That quiet, cold threat: If you die, I die.

But she hadn’t told Kieran.

They walked in silence for a long time. The palace grounds were quiet, though Lyra could feel the eyes on her. Guards. ...