They came for Lyra in the blue hour just before dawn, when even the fires slept. In all her years in Iron Claw, only Mara ever bothered to come to Lyra’s room. As the years passed, the girl’s worry they she might be attacked eased, allowing her to sleep easier each night, especially once she grew used to the cold and hunger. Only once had that safety been disturbed when Darius brought her the gift.
They didn’t bother knocking. Two warriors entered, faces painted with ash, with eyes that were sunken and exhausted. One grabbed her by the elbow, wrenching her up from her bed and waking her with a start. The other ripped back her furs, the cold assaulting her like she’d insulted the air. Her skin protested, rippling with goosebumps as she desperately tried to cover herself. She was only wear
