Page 29 of In Violent Waves

He had been stoic the entire time. But she could feel his eyes on her more often than not.

Her accidental use of power had shaken him to his core. She figured he was probably thinking of the best way to kill her right about now. Glancing down, she watched as he flexed his hand open before squeezing it back into a fist.

Yep. He wanted to kill her.

Surely he knew she hadn’t meant to use it against him. She hadn’t used it to free herself or even to save herself from the humans.

Lyra didn’t want to be a monster. Didn’t want to destroy this place or any place.

She missed the water, of course, but did not want to ruin the land so that she could return. No matter how much she yearned for the sea, she couldn’t fathom laying waste to this place, with its lovely plants and tiny birds.

Clenching her jaw, she staunched the pull of the power within her. This was how it would start.

The magic was addictive. And she had worked her entire life to never use it.

Her stomach pitched, and her lungs tightened when a flash of the accident speared through her mind. It would corrupt her in the worst of ways, turning her into the same monsters she rebelled against.

A strange bird cawed from the large tree in the center of the square. No—not a bird, a person. They materialized beside the tree and walked towards them.

Wilder squared his shoulders and picked up the pace, embracing the shadow and clapping it on the back once.

“Look who finally graced us with their presence,” a masculine voice teased.

He was Lyra’s size, much shorter than Wilder, but broad through the shoulders and legs. Like a walking wall, she musedto herself. His accent was unique, too. Not the polished accent she had grown accustomed to from Wilder, but something—wild. Quick, but also like his tongue, was too wide for his mouth.

“Orders aren’t always easy to follow, and I’m sure you saw exactly what I had to put up with,” Wilder replied and shot her a look.

“Otto, this is Princess Lyra.”

Otto removed the cloak that shadowed him.

Lyra was struck mute.

White skin, white hair, and gray-colored eyes, like the dark gray seas underneath the moon’s glow. But beyond his physical appearance was vast wisdom.

An all-seeing kind of wisdom that peered at her from cloud-colored eyes.

Lyra wanted to wrap her arms around herself, to hide from his gaze.

“Pleasure, Princess—or should I call you Legs, too?” Otto replied and tilted his head.

The words annoyed her, and before she could stop herself, she lashed out.

“It’s Lyra orYour Highness. I don’t care which you prefer.”

Wilder pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Otto only grinned and addressed Wilder.

“The others are at the tavern, awaiting your orders. Even though I already told them what they would be.”

Wilder merely nodded and gestured with his hand.

Lyra’s stomach growled, and she reluctantly followed. Not that she had a choice. But she had hoped the tavern would mean food.

“I got you a plate already—Lyra,” Otto threw over his shoulder at her with a wink.

Flames danced in the tall lanterns on either side of the narrow street. A small breeze snaked through the buildings,rustling the broadleaf ivy that clung to the crumbling stone walls.

It was nice here, cozy even. It was a place she would like to sit outside with a book. She rather liked that idea.