The Prince, the Rogue & the Reckoning

Lyra Thorn should've known the night would end badly. Any night that began with her sprinting across the rooftop of the Lower Quarters usually did. The moon hung low over Solarys Kingdom, casting silver light over the maze of rooftops. Smoke curled from chimneys, music drifted from taverns, and somewhere below her, angry shouts rose in the wind.

"THERE! THE GIRL WITH THE RELIC-CATCH HER!"

Lyra grinned.  Too late.

She leapt across the gap between buildings, boots skidding on old tiles. Her heartbeat thudded wild, not from fear, fear was for people with something to lose, But from the intoxicating rush of getting away with yet another crime.

Almost.

She dug into her pocket, fingers brushing the cold metal of the relic she'd stolen. A small sun-shaped medallion, humming with faint warmth. She didn't know why it glowed when she touched it... but she liked the way it made her chest tighten. Magic. Real magic. Almost no one outside the royal bloodline could touch these without being burned.

But Lyra wasn't "no one." She just wasn't sure what she was. A guard's shout echoed behind her. "STOP, THIEF!"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, vaulting over a wooden plank and landing hard on the next roof. Then she saw it- the long banner of gold and white fluttering from the guard tower ahead. The palace district.

Crap.

She spun around and slammed straight into someone. Strong hands gripped her arms. She hissed, ready to bite and kick her way out until she looked up.

Her stomach dropped.

Prince Aerion Solarys.

Golden-haired, soft-eyed, dressed in a simple cloak instead of royal attire, but still unmistakable. He was twenty one, only two years older than her, but his presence was enough to make the world pause. He looked like the kind of boy who wasn't meant to exist in her world. too noble, too gentle, too painfully beautiful.

Lyra stumbled back. "What are you doing on a rooftop?"

"You're welcome," Aerion said calmly, as if she'd thanked him. "I just stopped you from falling."

"I wasn't going to fall."

"You were absolutely going to fall."

Her mouth twitched. "Well... thanks, I guess."

His eyes drifted to her hand. The relic glowed through her fingers. Aerion's expression changed-slowly, shock blooming into something else. Curiosity. Awe. Maybe even fear.

"That relic should burn you," he whispered.

"It doesn't."

"That's impossible."

Lyra stepped closer, chin tilted. "I don't care about possible."

Shouts grew louder behind them. Torches. Footsteps. Aerion exhaled sharply, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her toward the edge.

"This way," he said.

Lyra froze. Princes didn't help thieves. Princes turned them in. Princes smiled politely while signing their execution orders.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked.

He looked back at her with eyes that glowed faintly, like a secret sunrise.

"Because you're not supposed to be able to hold that relic. And because-"

his voice softened, "-you looked scared for a moment."

"I wasn't scared," she said quickly.

"I didn't say it was