THE PRINCE WHO FORGOT MY NAME

CHAPTER 1 --The Boy With No Thread

The first time Lyra Vale saw Crown Prince Kael Ardyn, he had a sword at her throat.

It was, she decided, an inconvenient beginning to a romance.

Not that it was a romance.

Obviously.

At the moment, it was mostly attempted murder.

"Move," the prince said.

His blade rested beneath her chin.

Moonlight painted the palace greenhouse silver. Glass walls rose around them, misted by the warmth of hundreds of night-blooming flowers. Somewhere among the moon lilies, water trickled peacefully through a marble fountain.

Lyra stared cross-eyed at the sword.

"That's difficult."

Kael's dark brows lowered.

"Why?"

"Because of the sword."

His expression suggested this was somehow her fault.

Lyra swallowed.

Up close, the infamous Crown Prince looked less like the portraits displayed throughout Asterra and more like someone who hadn't slept properly in several years.

Black hair fell untidily over his forehead. His ceremonial coat had been abandoned somewhere, leaving him in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A thin scar crossed his left palm.

And his eyes—

Storm-gray.

Cold.

Beautiful.

Extremely irritated.

"Who sent you?" he demanded.

"The Royal Botanical Society?"

The sword pressed slightly harder.

"Wrong answer."

"It was technically true."

"People breaking into the royal greenhouse at midnight generally have better excuses."

"I didn't break in."

"The window is shattered."

"I fell through it."

Silence.

Kael looked at the broken skylight.

Then at her.

"You fell through the roof."

"There was a gargoyle involved."

His face remained completely serious.

Lyra sighed. "You don't believe me."

"I desperately want to. Mostly because I've never arrested someone for losing an argument with architecture."

Despite herself, Lyra almost smiled.

Then she saw it.

Or rather—

She didn't.

Everyone possessed a thread.

That was the secret Lyra had spent seventeen years hiding.

When people cared for one another, luminous strands stretched invisibly between them. Friendship glowed blue. Familial love shone gold. Romantic affection burned red.

Only Lyra could see them.

Thousands covered the world.

But the prince had none.