Page 57 of In Violent Waves

Again, she was speechless. This male—this elvish male—was apologizing to her.

How strange. And utterly terrifying.

Lyra gave him a stiff nod and turned forward. Wilder gracefully mounted the horse behind her and gripped the reins in both hands.

Then they were off. Flying through the forest and farther away from everything she had ever known.

Night turned to day,and then night once more.

Otto had convinced Wilder that whoever had been chasing them was far enough behind that a few hours of rest was a necessity for Lyra and their horses. Lyra had piled together some leaves and moss for a pillow and was lying on her side, her back to Wilder and the rest of them.

She had been too tired to help Ridge tend to the horses and was now trying her best to sleep, but every breeze through the trees or rustle of wings in the night had her heart fluttering in her chest.

The damp earth seeped through her clothes and into her bones. It was a fool’s dream, but she had hoped when they reached the Wilds, she could bathe. Warm water was a luxury she had once taken for granted. But never again.

The wind blew stronger, blowing her hair into her face, and she tucked her arms closer to her chest for warmth. With her eyes squeezed shut, she tried to block out the unease of it all.

One more day, Wilder had said, then they would be in his kingdom.

The coldness ceased, and the wind no longer cut through her. It took her a moment to realize why. Peeling her eyes open, she saw Wilder’s cloak draped over her. Lyra breathed in the fabric. It smelled of him, but it was more intense here, where magic flourished. She was right to think he smelled of fresh air, but it was stronger than that. He smelled like the fresh air coming down from the tops of the hawthorn trees.

His scent settled her. And her breathing slowed.

It slowed enough that they must have thought she was sleeping because Otto had started speaking.

“Your father plans to make a deal with her.”

Her ears strained as she tried her best to listen.

“What kind of deal?”

“There’s an unbalance of magic he wants to set right. And he needs her help.”

“Unbalance?” Wilder’s voice rang deeper than usual. He must be angry—or disturbed. From how he talked about the balance, it must have been very important to them.

“The night you kidnapped her was a ritual for their kind. And it’s disrupting magic.”

Lyra held very still, trying not to lurch at the information that was uncovered. So he hadn’t known about Tidal Tithe, just that she would be on land. But their information was wrong.

The Tidal Tithe was to replenish their magic, not disrupt it. Otto’s visions were incorrect. But she was not about to correct her enemy’s mistake.

No—let them think the wrong thing.

“What kind of ritual?” Maelys asked.

“To gain power, they consume the hearts of twelve humans. The mermaids complete the ritual, and it fuels their fertility. Or ithad—their births have rapidly decreased due to the imbalance.”

That wasn’t entirely incorrect, and that unsettled Lyra. But it was supposed to bethirteenmaidens who made the sacrifice. It was a way to pay homage to their past of luring mortals to their deaths.

It was an honor—not an imbalance.

Ridge grumbled, “So why don’t they just stop?”

“Because the wealthy are still producing spawns. They see no need. And they have a bargain with the humans.”

“What kind of bargain?” Wilder asked. Lyra could tell by his voice he was surprised.

“I am unsure. Something is blocking my sight from Badenvaria. Like some kind of ward.”