Just as I was trying to regain my composure from being slammed onto the cold stone patio, I growled low in my chest and jumped to my feet, ready to tear into whoever had stopped me from finally escaping this prison I’d been living in.
But when I turned, the words froze in my throat.
There was a figure lying on her side a few feet away, her long blonde hair falling across her face as she faced away from me.
“Lyra,” I breathed, almost disbelieving my own voice.
She slowly turned her face toward me, her piercing blue eyes catching the moonlight and locking on mine.
I dropped to my knees beside her and pulled her into my arms, holding her so tightly I was afraid I might hurt her. My hands roamed frantically over her back, her hair, the side of her face—desperate to convince myself she was
