POV: Lyra Sinclair
The knife slipped and cut deep into my hand.
I cursed under my breath as blood dripped onto the healing herbs I'd been grinding. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the blade steady.
Three years of lying. Three years of letting everyone think I was dead. And now Dorian was less than a mile away, wanting to see me.
"He knows you're alive," my assistant Maya whispered from the doorway. "The whole camp is talking about it."
I put a cloth to my bleeding hand, trying to stop the trembling. "How did he find out?"
"Someone saw you at the market yesterday," she said. "Word travels fast in rogue territory."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I'd been so careful for so long. One moment of carelessness, and everything was falling apart.
"What do you want me to tell him?" Maya asked.
