LYRA

The grand hall filled quickly with contestants in various states of dress, some still in nightgowns covered by hastily thrown on cloaks while others had taken time to make themselves presentable.

We had been dragged from our beds by servants with urgent messages that the royal family required our immediate presence, no exceptions and no delays.

Ophelia Vorn's attack had happened only hours ago but already the news had spread through the castle like fire through dry grass, everyone knew ...