Sunlight was in Lyria's chamber long before the bells began to ring, and for once Lyria was already awake.
Not just awake, she was excited.
She threw off the sheets, hair messily around her face, and looked at the ceiling. " Today," she announced to herself, " is going to be so good."
She rushed through her morning routine with efficiency. Who needed maids when she could do it herself and faster.
The bath water steamed gently as she stepped in the rose scent enveloping her.
She scrubbed, rinsed, and nearly drowned herself twice in the process of bad singing.
Ten minutes later she was out, hair dripping and tied in a loose braid that bounced with each step.
She slipped into a simple ivory dress and she was now ready for the day.
Then she sprinted.
The palace corridors were illuminated by the light. Servants bowed as she walked past them but Lyria was too excited to even notice them.
Her destination was the vault wing, a quiet corridor near the restricted zone because it was said to be too dangerous for normal people.
The guards at the end immediately noticed her.
"Your Highness," one said, bowing .
"My father said I could come," she said, trying to sound normal instead of impatient. "I'm to retrieve a certain artifact for academic review."
They exchanged uncertain glances, but one finally opened the heavy oak door.
"Thank you!" she chirped, and slipped inside before they could ask questions.
—-
The room smelled of dust, there were some shelves with books and a lot of experiments, from normal artefact to a bit of weird one.
At the far end stood an old man, he was really skinny and slightly bent, looking at a chunk of glowing metal. His robes looked older than some kingdoms.
Lyria approached carefully. "Excuse me?"
He turned—and immediately bowed so low his spine made a loud crack. "Your Highness!"
That must have hurt so bad, Lyria thought.
Lyria winced. "Please stop! No bowing! Straighten up before you break yourself in half."
The old man straightened , clutching his back. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I did not expect a royal visit."
"I'm here for the fire-resistance artifact," she said cheerfully.
He blinked. "Ah. That… that would be the prototype #47-A, yes. The theoretical Flameguard charm."
"Theoretical?"
"It's still in development," he admitted, wringing his hands. "We haven't quite stabilized the cooling enchantments. It tends to overcompensate and—well—freeze things."
Lyria clasped her hands behind her back, pretending to listen while already deciding she didn't care. "How fascinating. Where is it?"
He hesitated, clearly torn between duty and survival. "Your Highness, it's not ready for use yet . If activated improperly, it could encase the wearer in ice, or explode, or—"
She smiled sweetly. "Or work perfectly."
He sighed, defeated. "It requires calibration before each use. You must channel a small amount of mana into the core to awaken it. Once active, it should create a barrier that redirects thermal energy. In theory."
"In theory," she repeated. "Wonderful. Show me."
He shuffled to a small table cluttered with crystals and opened a case containing a silver pendant shaped like a teardrop.
Inside the metal casing, faint magic could be felt shifting from shades of blue and red.
"This," he said reverently, "is the Flameguard. It draws from ambient mana to balance temperature extremes. But I really must insist it stay here until we finish—"
"I'll take very good care of it," Lyria interrupted, reaching for the pendant.
He pulled it back instinctively. "Your Highness, please—"
She clasped her hands in a pleading gesture. "You said it's for research, right? I'm researching. Hands-on methodology!"
"Hands-on methodology has consequences," he muttered.
"I'll sign a liability form."
"We don't have liability forms."
"Then I'll invent one!"
He stared at her, aghast. "You cannot simply walk away with royal prototypes—"
She leaned forward conspiratorially.
"Between us, I have royal authorization. From my father."
The man blinked. "You do?"
She smiled, all charm and mischief. "Would I lie to you?"
He squinted. "Yes."
"Accurate, but not helpful."
The silence stretched. Lyria gave her best impression of puppy-eyed.
Finally, with a groan, he opened the case and handed over the pendant.
"Fine," he grumbled. "But don't activate it indoors, don't wear it near open flames, and for the love of the gods, don't—"
"Don't worry!" she said, already looping the chain around her neck. "I'm a professional."
He stared as she practically bounced on her toes. "Professional what?"
"Enthusiast."
That was apparently not reassuring, but it was too late. Lyria tucked the pendant under her gown, offered him a dazzling smile, and waved.
"Thank you so much! You're doing important work. Really life-saving stuff."
And before he could protest again, she was out the door, leaving while trying to hide giggling .
—-
By the time she reached her chambers again, she could barely contain her excitement. The pendant pulsed faintly against her skin, cold and warm at.
She paused just long enough at her door to steady her breathing, then stepped inside.
Now came the hard part: try to get no one in her room.
She called to the guards stationed outside.
"I'm absolutely exhausted from all that studying. I'll be taking a long nap. No disturbances, please."
They bowed. "Of course, Your Highness."
"And no one enters until I say so. Even if there's an earthquake. Or screaming. Or, you know, even my mother or father ."
The guards exchanged worried glances.
"Understood."
"Wonderful." She smiled sweetly and closed the door.
Once alone, she exhaled and clapped her hands together. "All right, genius. Time for the fun part."
She grabbed two large cushions from the couch and arranged them beneath her blankets, sculpting a passable sleeping shape.
After a few adjustments one pillow for height, another for arm volume it looked convincingly human from the doorway.
"Perfect. The art of subterfuge," she said proudly.
Next came the outfit. She traded her gown for flexible trousers, knee-high boots, and a dark tunic reinforced with light armor plates. The pendant glinted against the fabric as she fastened it securely.
Her hair she pulled back into a tight braid, tucking away every stray silver strand. From the drawer she retrieved the familiar silver mask, tracing its edge with her thumb before sliding it into place.
Her heart pounded, a rush of anticipation chasing every thought of danger. She checked the pendant again.
"Let's test you properly," she said, taking it in her hands "Please don't fail me today."
Outside, the bells of midmorning began to ring, their sound carrying through the palace. Lyria glanced once at the fake figure in her bed, the curtains drawn just enough to conceal the trick, and grinned.
"Nap time officially commenced," she said.
She adjusted her cloak, checked the hidden daggers at her belt, and slipped toward the window.
The latch opened easily; the view beyond showed the palace gardens bathed in light, the distant peaks faintly glowing red in the sun.
Her pulse quickened.
For a moment she hesitated, well it was the first time she was leaving in the middle of the day she normally went out at night.
Then she remembered that she was going to see her crush and also test the pendant well two in one.
Lyria pulled her hood up, the silver mask catching the light. Her lips curved into a daring smile.
"Let's get there now."