Lyra POV

"Did you sort your pack out?" Lyra asks, raising a brow.

"We found the mole, and we found a whole rake of disloyal soldiers. So yes, I'd say I have sorted it out," he mutters, sounding more stressed than she's ever heard him.

"Stop scowling. You'll get wrinkles," she grunts and closes her eyes.

"Make sure you got them all. I don't want to send her home unless I know it's safe. I don't want either of you hurt," Lyra murmurs, being as quiet as possible as her tone turns more concerned.

"I am. I wouldn't take her home unless I knew it was safe, you know that,"...