Lyra
The guard unlocked the cuffs, and I handed Caine a thick, fresh shirt and clean trousers from the supply room.
“You look like you wrestled a badger, Caine,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted, but the relief of seeing him was something I couldn't explain.
“I prefer ‘master of disguise,’” he drawled, flexing his wrists. He caught my eye, and his smirk softened into something genuine. “But I’ll take the clean clothes. Lead the way, Princess.”
Once we were settled in the house, I offered him something to drink.
“Now, talk,” I said as I sat down, “What in the world are you doing here, and why were you hunting near the Varynthorn borders?”
Caine took a long drink, his eyes scanning the room with appreciation. “It’s a long story.”
“Either you make it short, or you say the long one
