Magic, Mayhem, and My Misplaced Soulmate

Previously

…Lyra’s breath hitched. She recognized the feather. It was from Elara's cloak, the one she wore when she arrived. A cold dread washed over her. Theron's sharp eyes flicked towards her, a knowing glint appearing in their depths. "You seem quite interested in feathers, my dear," he said, his voice dangerously smooth, the question hanging in the air, laced with an unspoken accusation. The trap had been subtly sprung, and Lyra realized with dawning horror that her secret, and Elara's, might be far more exposed than she ever imagined. The Prince’s shadow had fallen, and it was far longer and more menacing than she had anticipated.