Finally, mercifully, Lady Vane stopped.

The first few minutes were almost playful. Lady Vane used just the tips of her nails, tracing spirals on Lyra’s sides, behind her ears, along the backs of her knees. Lyra squirmed, biting her lip, suppressing the giggles that bubbled in her throat. It was embarrassing, not painful. She could endure embarrassment.

“Why should I?” Lady Vane asked, switching to the other foot. “You haven’t given me what I want.”

“You’re holding it in,” Lady Vane observed. “Such discipline. Let’s see how long it lasts.”

Lady Vane laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. “Oh, my dear. Breaking is for the weak. I’m not going to break you. I’m going to unravel you.”

“What… what do you want?” Lyra gasped, her face flushed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

A tear of mirth escaped Lyra’s eye. A snort. Then a real laugh, short and bright, shattered the library’s silence.

Lyra flinched. A tiny, involuntary gasp escaped her.