Lyra raged in her bonds. She cursed Bryn to every hell she ever read about. She felt welts form on her wrists where she'd pulled against the ropes tying her to the bedpost. She'd pulled less against her feet, also tied down, so she couldn't move enough to use her teeth on the rope. Eventually she fell asleep, her body sore and her stomach aching.

She woke up to voices outside her door.

"Where?"

"On the right shoulder. This big."

"She will have to be still."

The door opened and the tattooed man from the barracks stepped inside with a small box. He stood by Lyra's bed and began rolling her sleeve up. She tried to bite him.

"This will not work," he said in his musical accent. Two of Bryn's men came in. One sawed her hands free and she tried raking his face with her nails. He just pushed her face down onto the pillow holding her there while the other pinned her right arm on her side.

The tattoo man wiped her shoulder and then sharp pricks of pain followed. She cursed into the pillow but was glad it absorbed the tears that sprang to her eyes at the pain in her shoulder. It didn't help that the men had her twisted so her aching stomach was stretched.

After about two or three hours the man declared he was done and covered her shoulder with a bandage. The two men sat her up and she tried to headbutt one. He grunted as her head grazed his chin. Quickly he tied her hands behind her and to the bedpost, leaving her legs free thrash about.

When they left, she reached over to her shoulder and tore the bandage away with her teeth. Underneath, red and swollen, was the image of a rearing bear. She shrieked, "He marked me, the bastard marked me!"

Poor Nelly was sent in to feed Lyra breakfast. She was kicked viciously by Lyra and that would have been the end of Lyra's chance at food except Fenrin walked by, offering to take the tray from the bruised Nelly.

Lyra coiled like a snake when the door opened, ready to inflict some of her pain on someone else. When Fenrin walked in, she started. She watched him as he slowly came over and sat on her bed beside her. "Hello, Lyra."

He caught a glance at her shoulder. "Gods is that—?" Lyra growled warningly, she'd run out of words for the thing. Fenrin coughed. "Want some breakfast?"

Lyra laughed. "Oh sure, let me just take that from you." She exaggerated tugging her bonds. Fenrin picked up a piece of bacon and held it up for Lyra to bite.

She gave him a look. "You're kidding right?"

"Look, I'm not untying you. In all fairness, you did poison me last night so my trust levels are pretty much gone. But," he ate the piece of bacon, "this bacon is delicious."

She rolled her eyes but accepted his next offering. Fenrin watched her, trying to avoid looking at the bear. He spotted the fallen bandage. "Do you want me to..."

"Gods, please."

Fenrin picked up the bandage and gently put it back over the bear. He took the empty plate and stood up.

"Fen...I'm sorry."

"I know. Me too."

He left and Lyra let herself feel completely miserable. Her mother was the next person to come in but was shouted out by a wild string of obscenity. Ulris replaced her and although she again shouted, her insults were less personal and he brushed them aside. "Are you quite finished, mistress Lyra?"

She bit back another insult and Ulris continued, "Now, we are moving you to the guest quarters, you can either walk with me or be carried."

Something about Ulris' matter-of-fact tone, the same he used to announce visitors or the twin's latest adventure to their mother when they were children, calmed Lyra.

"I'll walk."

He nodded and one of the burly men cut her hands from the post, they stayed tied behind her back. She struggled to resist the urge to try and bite him. Instead she focused on standing with as much dignity as she could muster and walking out with Ulris.

They walked side by side with the two guards behind them. Next to Ulris, old and familiar, she suddenly felt very young. "What's going to happen, Ulris?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. But in my experience the answer is usually whatever Bryn wants."

She scowled, all kind recollections of the old man squashed. When they reached the door, nervous Nelly was there, rubbing her side where Lyra had kicked her.

"You can either let Nelly search you or Tor." Ulris motioned to one of the burly men behind him. Again Lyra's impulse was to rebel and choose the harsher road, but she swallowed her pride and let Nelly pat her down, retrieving her lockpick kit from her pants. She also undid Lyra's braid, the pale waves cascading freely down her back and another lockpick clicking to the floor.

Lyra blew hair out of her face and scowled. Ulris pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, bowing and gesturing for Lyra to enter. She did, head held high.

The room was as she remembered it. A single bed and a chamber pot. The walls richly decorated, but with paint instead of tapestry. And no windows.

There was a box on her bed. Ulris glanced at it. "Salve for your...tattoo. Twice a day is what I was told. I suggest you use it. If you don't the wound will become infected and you might have to lose your arm." With that he bowed again, signaling Tor to cut her hands free. She tried to punch him, but he pushed her back and slammed the door.

Over the next two days, Bryn lashed out at three servants and a messenger from the Jarl. The entire household walked on eggshells avoiding the master as much as possible. Fenrin too avoided his father, but waited anxiously to find out his sister's fate.

Finally Bryn sent for Lyra. She was brought to him, hair wild and tangled but eyes still bright and proud. Dyla held her breath.

Bryn stood above his daughter, arms crossed. "One year," he said, "I'm banishing you for one year."

As Dyla suspected she would, Lyra laughed. "That is my punishment? I've wanted nothing more than to leave this place since I was twelve."

Bryn ignored her and continued, "In one year you will return here or I will send someone to fetch you. My mark will protect you from somethings and put you in danger of others. As much as you may deny it, you are Lyra Bryndotter and you must learn to live with that fact." A pack was tossed at her side and she stared around grinning with wild disbelief.

"Stay west and never south, go far and learn much, but know that until the year is up, I will not claim you should you fall into peril."

She was about to spit a retort but caught Fenrin's pleading glance and swallowed it. She let her father's men lead her to the main road. A few townspeople gathered for the sight of Bryndotter's banishment. The Jarl was there as was his son.

At last, she was cut free, the pack placed on her shoulders. She gave a wild cry and made her way down the road.

She, of course, stopped at her cave first, gathering some key tools and bundles of herbs, just rich with potential. Lyra also took her map, deciding she would go to Taka. She always wanted to see the city of thieves. So many stories came from that place. Also it was in the east, the opposite direction her father had suggested. Yes, Lyra the banished daughter would go to Taka. With a last check of supplies, she set out.