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Lyra and Lysander
by Hestia Hesperus
Lyra heard a tapping sound.
Sleepily, she sat up and blinked at the window by the foot of her bed. When she saw a person outside of it, she was wide awake in an instant. She hurriedly smoothed her curls and tucked them behind her ears. Then, throwing on her bathrobe, she raced over to the window in the darkness and threw it open.
“Lysander!” she breathed. “What are you doing here? It's past midnight! Why aren't you at home? Isn't your father worried—?”
Lysander stumbled forward off the fire escape landing and into her room. Flipping on the small lamp by her bed, he turned to face her. She gasped.
His face was covered in blood. One eye was almost swollen shut and he had a cut lip along with his bloody nose.
“My father is why I'm here,” he said bitterly.
“He…he…he didn't hit you, did he?” she asked, ushering him to her bed. She quickly pulled up the covers as the silly fourteen-year-old inside of her would when a boy came over to visit. “Here…lie down. I'll get some salve.”
She slipped out of the room, her heart racing, and tiptoed down the darkened hall. This wouldn't be the first time Lysander's so-called ‘father’ got angry with him sneaking out and hanging with the alley gangs. But he'd never been hit this much before…
Careful not to wake up Grandfather, she wetted a cloth (she could throw it away when she was done so he wouldn't be suspicious) and grabbed the first-aid kit.
He was sitting up in bed for her when she came back, staring angrily at the ceiling.
“If I could do something…if I could make him hurt, I would,” he whispered.
She sat close to him and brushed away the dark hair that always fell into his eyes. “Are you sure that's what you would do? He's so much bigger than you…and stronger…”
“Someday, I'll be bigger than him,” Lysander whispered savagely as she dabbed at the caked blood over his nose. “Then he won't have me to push around. I'll be bigger than all of them. All the guys in the gang…they underestimate me because of the way I look. Well, they should. Because someday I'll show them all who I really am.”
“And who are you, really, ‘Sander?” she asked him quietly, using her special nickname for him. “Is it who you are when you're with me? Because that person is always different than when you're with the gang.”
“That's because they don't know me like you do, Ly,” he said. “I have to put a different face on for them just like I do for your grandfather and just like I do for the teachers at school. I have to get them to trust me.”
Lyra wiped the last of the blood off his lip. It had stopped flowing, thankfully. “Just promise me you won't do anything stupid…”
He sat up and looked at her eyes in the semi-darkness. “I won't. Trust me…”
She looked back at him, at his dark hair, the deep brown eyes she had come to look up to and to trust. He was nearly sixteen already, compared to her own fourteen. He was in her grade at school, yes, but not because he was stupid. He was so smart…he could get himself out of any situation. He just kept ditching school because he knew the stuff already, he said. Because he was too smart for them.
And she believed him.
“Of course I trust you! I always have and I always will…but Lysander…” she said slowly. “You can't always make people trust you. You have to earn it…if you were to come to school more often, the teachers would learn to trust you on their own. Like I do. You don't need to make people believe in you all the time.”
He looked away bitterly. “Don't I? Trust is something I've never learned from my father no matter what I do. If I want to earn my way in the world, I have to make people give it to me. It's the only way. Some people don't have people waiting on them hand and foot like you do. They have to work for what they want.”
“So come live with us!” she said excitedly. “Come live with Grandfather and me. Your father would be well rid of you and you wouldn't have to fend for your own anymore. I'll take care of you…We could be like—well, like brother and sister!”
Her excitement got caught in her throat when he looked over at her, a gleam in his eyes that she hadn't seen before.
“And what if I want us to be more than that?” he murmured.
The room started racing all around her. She felt frozen within herself while everything around her kept moving. Everything except her…and him.
She could only see his features and everything she loved about him. The way he had always protected her from everything else. The way he said her name and used the nickname she only let him call her. The way he lit up when she was there and always treated her like she was equal—not talk down to her like she was used to everyone doing. Even Grandfather, though she hated to admit it.
The way he made her feel about herself. How her heart raced whenever she was with him…with Lysander, they were always thinking up some crazy adventure or facing down bullies. Life was always exciting with him. She loved that. Without him, she would be nothing…just another girl in another school with no parents to come home to.
She loved everything about him. But mostly…mostly, she loved who she was when she was with him. He made her feel confident, smooth, cool. Beautiful.
He made her feel like she was his, and his only. And she loved that.
“You should go back home,” she whispered, flustered.
“No. I want to stay here with you.”
“But what if Grandfather finds out?”
“He won't…” he reassured her. “I'll be gone before dawn.”
He leaned back on the pillows, and she lay down on the bed with him, side by side like they had done so many times. But this was different.
She felt his body tense up and wanted to hug him or hold him or reassure him that she was there for him. But she knew that he didn't like that close of a contact. Not like she did. She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be all right with his father. That she knew what he was going through…but she didn't, really. And nothing she could say would make it better.
A melody drifted into her mind—one that she had loved for years because of how it made her feel inside. It calmed her when nothing else could. And it reminded her of Lysander.
And then she knew what to do. With a soft but strong voice, she stroked his hair away from his bruised eye and began to sing for him…
Come notice me
And take my hand…
He turned towards the sound of her voice and put his hand in hers. Her voice began to falter, but she continued on, stronger than before.
Why are we
Strangers when…
“I love you, Lyra,” he whispered.
Our love is strong
Why carry on without me?
She was nine years old and running…running, running…and they were after her. She hadn't done anything. Just exploring the streets around her and Grandfather's new apartment. She hadn't done anything wrong…she didn't mean to get into a gang's territory…she just got lost, is all…
She came to an alley—a dead end. And they were behind her and leering at her. She curled up her fists, willing them to go away.
And every time I try to fly
I fall—
And then he came. He sneered at them and called them by names. He was years younger than them, and yet he acted like he was twice their age, and they knew it.
She watched the last of them turn the corner but he was staring at her, head cocked. There was a glint in his eye and a small smile on his face that didn't quite match up for some reason.
“Bad idea to get on the wrong side of that lot,” he said nonchalantly.
“You…you saved me,” she breathed.
Without my wings
I feel so small
He gave her a half-grin that she fell in love with immediately. “You're welcome.”
“Hi,” she said, then stuck out her hand. “I'm Lyra.”
“Grisham,” he replied, sticking out his own. “Lysander Grisham.”
Their hands touched.
I guess I need you, baby…
The years passed as she got to know this daredevil boy. Everyone said he was the wrong sort to hang out with. She didn't care. He became her friend when no one else would.
More and more he would convince her to do things his way. He persuaded her to skip school with him because he needed her…who was she to refuse?
Her grades started falling, detentions started piling up…but she served them with him, so why did she care? And she could make up for it with more schoolwork. As long as they didn't take him away from her.
He would take her to a different spot every time—another alley, another building perch, another bridge—and show her who everybody important was. Which gangs lived where, who they consisted of, who they were to be wary of. He knew more about the city than anyone else, and he taught it all to her.
It was exhilarating. For the first time in her life, she felt free. He showed her a life outside of the adult world she had grown up in. A life with gangs and threats and weapons, yes…but it was a life of adventure.
A life with him.
And every time I see you in
My dreams
Lyra grew older, and her body changed. She found herself thinking more and more about Lysander, how he made her feel when he was near her. She began to see him in quite a different light than she used to. It scared her.
But what scared her most was that he saw her the same way. His looks intensified, his body language held more meaning, his words would send shivers down her spine…
She felt swept up in a fast-moving current where the water all around her was him. He kept her there, tossed her and turned her as much as he pleased, carrying her along in the middle of the torrents, keeping her from ever reaching the shore.
And the only way out was through him…just like the only way she could be saved was through his own means and ways.
I see your face
It's haunting me
It terrified her, but it thrilled her. She wanted out, but she wanted him to like her even more. She wanted to feel like her own person again, but…she wanted to be his, and his only.
And she was his. He told her that every day. Everything he did, he did for her. She could be Grandfather's little girl, but to him…to him, she was his own property, and no one could come even close to matching his love for her. Nobody else deserved her, he would say, except for him.
And she knew that that was how it would always remain…whether she wanted it to or not.
I guess I need you, baby…
She was sixteen when he came to her the first time.
He was going up against Mordecai, he said, one of the worst players of the Bronx. He needed something Mordecai had, and to get it back, he needed her.
She wondered how she could possibly help. Lysander was much better at this than she was. What did she have that Lysander didn't? And then he explained. When he said Mordecai was a player, he didn't mean money-wise. And what she had that Lysander didn't was everything he loved her for.
I make-believe
That you are here
With shaking hands, she put on the clothes Lysander gave to her, which revealed far more than she would like them to. She put on make-up, she did her hair…she followed Lysander to an empty alley in the Bronx where a single man-hole lay.
Lysander told her that he wouldn't be there during the exchange. He would be in an alcove watching the whole thing, where Mordecai's thugs couldn't see him. Then he told her everything she had to do. Make Mordecai trust her enough to hand over the money.
“How am I supposed to do this?” she whispered furiously.
“He trusts pretty faces. Just lead him on. Make him think that all you want is him. You know what I'm talking about. Just get him to show you the money, is all. I'll handle the rest.”
“But—”
“Do not fail me,” he whispered before pulling her to him and kissing her, his grip on her tighter than ever before. Then, before she could react, he slinked back into the shadows and was gone.
It's the only way
I see clear…
Mordecai's men came and showed her down the man-hole, then through the slimy underworld of New York City where a man was waiting…
Lyra's knees were quaking as she moved towards him. Then, remembering what Lysander had said, she lifted her chin, shoved aside her fears, and put on a neutral face so no one could read her.
And then she prepared herself to do the exchange with Mordecai.
Lysander had taught her a lot…she had learned about money-exchanging only from the best. She had learned everything about the streets, the gangs, the mobsters…she was well-rehearsed in the ways of sneaking into another's territory with no one knowing. But this…this was something he couldn't teach her.
She had to learn this on her own.
What have I done?
You seem to move on
easy…
After that night, she started to trust him less and less. She was beginning to see that he didn't want to escape the world he grew up in and those who made it hell. He wanted to make those responsible pay.
And he was willing to do anything to be the one to make them.
Some nights she would refuse to go along with him, and plead with him not to do it as well. But when he saw how adamant she was, he would only get angrier. And for the first time, she would see just how much anger and hurt he was bottling up inside. Anger at his father for hating him. At his mother for leaving him and making him be the one to take care of her. Anger at himself…
He never told Lyra what happened that night his mother died. All she knew was that his father blamed Lysander for it, which made Lysander believe that he actually did kill his mother. And as much as Lyra protested that it wasn't his fault, that he was in no way responsible…he didn't believe her.
And she was afraid when he got angry…afraid that he would do something to her…but that was stupid…for beyond her fear lay her pity. And above everything else…she knew that it wasn't his fault he was this way. It wasn't his fault his mother was dead…
She trusted him.
He would realize his fists were balled up, his face screwed in anger, his breath coming out through his nostrils…he would see the fear in her eyes and he'd drop his anger and rage in an instant.
And he would once more become the Lysander she fell in love with, his brown eyes looking at her with trust and love, his hands holding hers, his lips against her skin. Then in a soft deep voice he would tell her earnestly that he was sorry…he didn't mean to…he'd never do anything to hurt her.
And they would kiss, and it would all be better.
And every time I try to fly
I fall
She loved him. She loved him and she knew that he loved her. But she was beginning to see that she didn't need him as much as she used to. She had just one more year of school left and it was time to look for colleges…find out what she wanted to do with her life…
Lysander had dropped out. In all the plans she made for her future, she tried to include him. Going to the same college together, living in the same apartment, graduating together and buying a house to start a family of their own…
“Lyra, we don't need any of that,” he said while they were on their favorite perch overlooking the city. “We don't need to go to college, we're smarter than they are anyway. I make more than enough money to feed and clothe myself right now, never mind how I get it. I can get enough to decorate you with pearls, and I will, too. I can buy you a suite right here in Manhattan. We don't need to leave. Let's just stay here… and we can make our own territory and warn everyone else to stay out. It'll just be you and me, Lyra…you need me…”
He brought her closer and nuzzled her neck. But she pushed away and the argument started up again. More and more she would reason out leaving Manhattan to take care of herself. So she wouldn't depend on him or Grandfather any more. She wanted to be given the chance to take care of herself.
And he wouldn't let her.
Without my wings
I feel so small
She broke away from him more and more. But when she was gone, she only wished for him to come back, so she could apologize and console him. She was tired of fighting him all the time, tired of resisting his temptations and kisses. She didn't want to fail him anymore. To have him look at her like she was filthy and not worthy of his time. She just wanted to give in…give in to everything…surrender her whole heart, body, and soul.
And then she did.
He pushed again and again and she finally gave way. In the darkness of an alleyway, she let him do what he wanted to do. She was scared out of her mind, he kept telling her everything was all right…that he would take care of her…
But he got too rough. She broke away and instead of leaving her alone, he pulled her back. In that moment she realized that she no longer trusted him. He was becoming what she hated above all else.
She ran away…and this time, she didn't look back.
I guess I need you, baby…
After that, she avoided him. If he was stalking her, he made sure she wasn't aware of it. She stopped skipping classes to be with him, she threw herself into her work, she looked into colleges and her thoughts of her future began to hold only her.
In just a few short months, she moved from one of the lowest students because of her poor attendance, to the holder of the highest rank in the graduating class.
She was proud of herself for becoming the young woman her parents wanted her to be. Her grandfather, the most important person in her life, wanted to take her on a trip to Paris over the summer before she began schooling at Staten Island University.
But first came her prom night…
And every time I see you in
My dreams
She zipped up the back of her dress and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror in her room. The dress she had chosen was perfect for her—it was a creamy purple that showed blue in some lights, sleeveless and tight in the bodice but flaring out as it went lower until a foot-long train appeared behind her. A silk lavender shawl and purse-string matched it, and on her ears and neck were the genuine pearls that used to belong to her mother.
Grandfather said she looked just like her mother in this dress, with her long curls falling around her shoulders and small white clips in her hair. She felt like she had on glass slippers and she was dressed up to go for a ball, and her grandfather, dressed as her date in a tuxedo, was her prince.
Never mind that her darkest secret was that she wished beyond hope that Lysander could be her prince for tonight. Never mind that she still felt like she needed him and wanted him…after everything he'd done to her…
She was beautiful. And she had made herself so for the very first time. It wasn't anything Lysander had said or did…she was her own kind of beautiful and it felt so right.
Her grandfather called for her to hurry or they'd be late. Lyra looked in the mirror one more time, fingering the string of pearls on her neck—
And there, in the reflection of the glass, she saw Lysander.
I see your face
You're haunting me
She looked behind her but, in the darkness, he wasn't there. She must have been dreaming it…she must have been seeing things…because he wasn't there.
Shaken to the core, she picked up her skirts and let her grandfather escort her out the door.
I guess I need you, baby…
Grandfather smiled down at her as they danced together. He loved her so much and he was proud of her…
She put her head on his chest and smiled. “Thank you, Grandfather,” she whispered, “for being my date. I wouldn't have had anyone else…”
He kissed the top of her head and pulled her close. “I love you, my little lyre,” he murmured.
That was when it happened. His body seized and he began to choke. She freed herself before he could collapse and drag her to the floor with him.
She cried out. Everyone around her was screaming, and nearby she could hear someone dialing for an ambulance. Grandfather was thrashing on the floor; she tried to hold him, tried to hold him…
I may have made it rain…
The rain splattered against them as they drove to the hospital.
The sirens, the flashing lights around them as they drove through the dark streets…she held onto his hand tightly, crying his name, but he couldn't hear her…
Please forgive me
She sat beside his hospital bed, listening to the sounds of his low breathing and the beeping of the monitor. His tuxedo had been ripped apart long ago when they tried to shock his heart back to life…
They came to her as she was still dressed in her rumpled gown, tear-stained face, blood-shot eyes. And they told her what she dreaded hearing the most…that he was dying…he didn't have long to live now…that they needed to leave the city and go somewhere quiet for him to live out the rest of his remaining life.
She couldn't take this…she couldn't deal with this on her own. She was eighteen years old; she should have been worrying about whether her boyfriend was cheating on her with some other girl, not that the only person who still loved her was leaving her.
Her grandfather was dying…
My weakness caused you pain
Through her tears, she saw him, saw him running to her. It didn't matter that he had hurt her, it didn't matter that she had left him so many months ago…he was here now, when she needed him the most.
He swept her up and hugged her close, and she sobbed against him. She wasn't alone…she had him…
And she still loved him.
And this song is my sorry…
There was an echo all around her…
She finished packing all of her bags and walked into the next room to help Grandfather with his. They were going to spend the summer in Europe, go to Cornwall to see where he was born and grew up in, go to Marseille where her great-aunt still lived and where Grandfather was expecting to spend his remaining days.
Looking around their apartment, she was so afraid of coming back to Manhattan alone…but there was still hope for him, the doctors said. Maybe the fresh country air would do his body some good. Maybe he still had time after all.
Or maybe he would leave her just as her parents had done.
They closed the door. Ray helped them hail a cab and assisted Grandfather, who now used a cane, into it. This might be the last time he ever did this. She climbed in after him and hugged his arm as they drove to the airport beneath the lights of New York City.
At night, I pray…
Lysander met them there and watched, his face dark, as Lyra boarded the plane. He had just won her back and she was leaving him again…he wasn't going to lose her again. Not this time.
“I love you, Lyra,” he had whispered.
“And I love you, too,” she replied. “I'll be back, Lysander…I promise…”
“And I will be waiting.”
He kissed her goodbye and she walked off down the corridor, his last words running over and over in her mind. She wasn't sure if it was a promise…or a threat.
Meanwhile, his own thoughts were coursing through him. The jealousy he felt inside, the anger, was preeminent as he watched her head off to a new life without him. She loved him…but it was clear, as it had always been, that she loved ‘Grandfather’ much more.
And he hated that.
That soon your face will fade away…
The weeks flew by for Lyra, and Grandfather grew in health. She wanted him to take it easy, but being back in his homeland seemed to bring new life to him. With a renewed vigor, he took her to all the sites in England—showing her through the Cornish countryside and coasts, breathing the air he had been born into and raised on.
These weeks would be some of the best of her life. She spent her days sight-seeing and being with him, then at night she gazed into the sea for hours. Because Grandfather was strong enough, they flew to Paris and took their time driving through France.
In the bustling city-port of Marseille, she came to love the libraries and cathedrals and museums and universities. She spent hours reading through ages of family history on her mother's side, only to come home to the quiet cottage of her ancient, sweet great-aunt who could always be seen with a twinkle in her eye and a tease on her lips.
How she loved it there…
Weekly she would write letters back to Lysander, even daily, and each one brimmed with everything she was doing and all these things she was learning. She loved him still…but her heart was no longer solely his. She had a life of her own now and it excluded him.
She was learning that she wanted much more than he had promised he could give her, back on their favorite ledge overlooking the city. She wanted more than a life of adventure, a life of excitement, a life of rich luxuries and the New York crime-lords.
She wanted something he couldn't give, something he didn't have…something he couldn't measure up to…
Something he wasn't good enough for.
And every time I try to fly
I fall
With her gone, he enveloped himself in the gangs, in the drugs and guns being passed around in the underworld of New York City. He was caught in the anti-theri movement, a cause all of the gangs rallied around these days. With the right calculation and the right conviction, spurred on by his anger and need for power, he found out where exactly to go and who to go to in order to get as high as he could and in the right crowds.
He no longer bothered himself with the simple cares of the world, becoming completely immersed in his work and the gangs.
With the right contacts, he was able to get himself involved with Vincent Crooke, the lord of crime-lords, who had need of an assassin…
He took the gun given to him with no second thought. A trial run, they said…his first job to make sure that he could do exactly what they wanted him to do.
He walked to the home he had left long ago, filled with a calculated anger as he faced the man he'd once sworn to destroy. This man had been wrong…they had all been wrong. He was now more than they ever thought he could be—more powerful than they could ever dream to become.
Then he raised his gun and, with a look of pure satisfaction, he killed the man he once called father.
Without my wings
I feel so small
The summer came to an end. Lyra came back to New York with Grandfather. With his promise to take better care of himself, and a nurse to check on him every day, she felt better about enrolling in college and moving to a dormitory. She moved out of his apartment and began to take her classes, getting a job on the side.
When she saw Lysander, she could see how much he had changed. He smiled more; he walked around with a buoyancy and a freshness that she found exhilarating. He told her he loved her, and she believed it.
He was different, somehow. He was changed. And she believed it was for the better.
How could she know that for the first time, he was putting on the face for her that he was showing to the rest of the world? How could she know that she was now just someone else he needed to make trust him?
How could she know that what he showed her was now just another façade…that he was now her very worst nightmare and everything she was afraid he would become.
His name was Arcas.
I guess I need you, baby…
The fall passed. She became immersed in college, but her every spare time was devoted to Grandfather and spending her weekends checking up on him. She loved this new Lysander, but she couldn't help feeling suspicious.
He told her that he now had a job and that it wasn't illegal—which, in truth, it really wasn't. He told her that he was taking college classes and, when she questioned this, all he had to do was open up the pages in her textbook and begin to fix every problem she had been puzzling over.
He said he was changed and she truly believed it.
But while she was still believing his lie, he was getting closer to finding out the truth about her grandfather and the secret he had been harboring for quite some time. He knew about the Hataira and what his boss, Vincent Crooke, was being told to do. He knew that most of the older people Grandfather was friends with and Lyra had known all her life were a part of it. And he knew that Grandfather was as well.
His time was coming. Soon, the order would be given to kill Jacques Trevelyan, but not before securing the information needed to find and destroy the hundreds of theris around the nation that he was harboring.
And Lyra was the key to this.
And every time I see you in
My dreams
Christmas, 2026.
Lyra was back in Manhattan, in the territory that now belonged to Lysander Grisham. She was spending her holiday with her grandfather, unaware of the fact that this would be the last time she ever did so.
Trouble struck, and she called for Lysander, as he knew she would. And he did not disappoint her. He came to her and used his charm to get her to trust him this one last time.
On Christmas Eve they went out to dinner, together with Grandfather. They laughed, they danced, they had a night to remember. And instead of taking a cab back to the apartment, Lysander convinced them to take a walk through Central Park…
Lysander pulled Lyra back, letting Grandfather walk ahead of them for quite a ways. In the moonlight beneath the falling snow, he told her of his love for her and they danced…
“I love you, Lyra,” he said.
“As I love you…more than anything…” she whispered.
He pulled her close and looked into her eyes, then uttered the two words she most wanted to hear, yet feared so much.
“Marry me.”
I see your face
You're haunting me
She loved him so much. But as she looked into his eyes in that moment, she didn't see his real self as she had a long time ago. She saw the Lysander who would put on a different face and voice for their schoolteachers, for her grandfather, for everyone. And her fear from long ago…that feeling of him owning her, the powerful voice in her head that told her that she was his and she always would be, that look in his eyes that told her to trust him…
It all came back.
She pulled away and confronted him. She knew him too well…she could tell when he was lying again…Lysander Grisham might be the master of lies and deceit, but he had taught her his own craft, and he had taught her well.
And, just like before, she ran away, her heart broken, tears streaming. She didn't know where she was going but she needed to find Grandfather…
And then she heard his shouts. She turned down an alley, only to find it branching off in every direction, but she kept running, searching for her grandfather…searching…
She found them beating him. She screamed, and they grabbed her as well, using her to threaten Grandfather into giving them the information that they needed. But they had done so much damage already…he was old and he couldn't take most of the falls.
She called out for Lysander, as he knew she would. And he did not disappoint her…he came around the corner, smiling confidently…
But instead of coming to her and Grandfather's defense as he strolled into the area…he pulled out a knife, walked over to Grandfather, and stabbed him.
The last image she had of him was the smirk on his face and the cold triumph in his eyes. She screamed out and lunged towards him, wanting to rip his heart out and make him pay…
She didn't know that her screams were no longer high-pitched, nor that the men holding her had stumbled backwards in surprise. All she could think about was getting to him…before she got lost completely, as the animal inside of her took over.
I guess I need you baby…
When she woke up, she could smell the blood. There were corpses around her—men with gashes on their faces and gaping holes in their sides. She barely noticed that the clothes on her own back were gone. All she could think about was how her body had changed…how she had become a monster.
Then a soft voice permeated her thoughts. A voice she used to love…a voice that had now become the embodiment of her hate.
And there he stood, untouched amidst the carnage.
“You killed them all,” he said. “You're one of them.” Animals, he called them, animals that he had been trained to murder. “They'll come to take you soon,” he said. “I called them. They'll put you down for what you did here.”
He seized her arm and pulled her close, a parody of the embraces they'd once shared. “Know this,” he hissed in her ear. “You're a monster. No one can ever love you, and now no one will be able to. If I can not have you…no one will.”
After all…
And then he left her. Sobbing beside her Grandfather's body, and those of the men she had murdered in cold blood. She knew he was right…she would never be loved, could never be loved.
She had a family, once. But then her parents died, and her unborn sister. And now her beloved Grandfather was gone from her as well.
She had friends, once. But now she realized that without Lysander, she was alone in the world. She didn't know…couldn't know…whether he ever truly loved her as he said he did…
Or whether it was all a lie.
After all…
And in the quiet of her bedroom, on that summer night when she was only fourteen, Lyra's voice trailed away in the darkness as she ended her song. Lysander, his eye swollen and a nasty bruise forming, reached over and touched her face.
They were unaware of what was to come in their future. How could they know? How could they know of what would happen all because of their love for each other?
And Lysander leaned in closer, and Lyra Valerius received her first kiss.