Page 163 of In Violent Waves

Wilder rolled his eyes.

“Alright, let’s go. You’re putting us behind with all this female blubbering.”

Lyra whipped her head to his, wrath glowing in her emerald eyes. “Just because you’re not capable of any emotions deeper than arousal doesn’t mean you should spout your stupidity so freely.”

Maelys barked a laugh so loud he thought she was going to tumble off her horse. She covered it with a gasping cough. But the damage to his pride had been done.

He eyed her with contempt, and she shook her head, clutching the reins to her horse and his tighter. Ridge watched the entire interaction from atop his mount with an obviously forced neutrality.

“You wounded me, Legs,” he said, clutching his leather-clad chest with faux sincerity. But he leaned in close to her. Close enough that his breath tickled the curls at her neck. “But you should know my emotional intelligence is immense.”

He enunciated ‘immense’ with innuendo, and her eyes bulged.

Maybe this trip wouldn’t be so bad if he could continue to get under her skin. But the likelihood of the reverse was greater.

Especially when she glared at the carriage and put her hands on her hips like a petulant child.

“I am not riding in that.”

She tapped her booted foot on the ground, and her sky-blue undershirt billowed around her shoulders, giving a feminine quality to her training leathers.

“You have before and were fine.” He pointed to the carriage door.

“I wouldn’t say ‘fine’,” she mumbled under her breath.

His ears picked it up perfectly, but he couldn’t help but goad her. “What was that, Princess?” Before she could retort, Oak, Dust, and Otto appeared. Their horses flicked their ears and swished their tails. Wilder looked around them for Oron. But Otto shook his head.

“Oron’s sister is due to give birth any day now. King Oberon had him replaced with Cyrus.”

Lyra stiffened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Who the hell was Cyrus?

As if his name conjured him up, the dark-haired guard that Wilder detested walked down the front steps of the castle.

“Am I late?”

Oh, this did not bode well.

“You are. Where is your mount?” Wilder asked.

“King Oberon assigned me to carriage duty, Your Highness.”

The hair on the back of Wilder’s neck rose. Especially when Cyrus took a step towards Lyra and she slid her feet apart in a defensive stance.

This was already a disaster.

Crying females, disrespectful and late guards, and now arguments.

“Fine,” he growled. “Cyrus, you can ride my horse for the time being.”

Lyra looked smug when Cyrus glared. But then Wilder spoke again.

“Lyra, you’re in the carriage—with me.”

Her mouth dropped open, but Wilder had already turned on his heel and was opening the carriage door for her.

“Let’s go, Legs. We’re losing daylight.”

She stood still, casting her eyes from person to person. Maelys shrugged and offered her an encouraging smile.