Page 91 of In Violent Waves

He blinked at her direct question. “An informant.”

“Of which court?” She circled a fingertip along the rim of her water goblet.

He smiled at her and gestured for the servant to bring out dessert.

A slice of cake was placed in front of each of them, and Lyra stared at it.

“It’s cake,” Wilder supplied.

“But we just ate.”

He cut a piece off the corner of the chocolate cake with lavender mousse and put it in his mouth. Lyra watched with a blank expression as he swallowed it down.

“This is dessert. It comes after dinner.”

She looked around the table to see Oberon and Aine eating their slices.

“Don’t tell me you have never had dessert before?” Aine asked, dabbing a smudge of the mousse off the corner of her lip.

Lyra shook her head and picked up her fork.

“Hang on,” Wilder said, and set down his fork. “I want to watch this.”

Lyra glared at him but waited until he was settled. She lifted a bite and sniffed it before placing it in her mouth.

Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and she covered her mouth with a hand.

“Oh my gods.”

Aine, Wilder, and even Oberon chuckled.

“Why don’t you just eat this?” she asked, shoving another forkful in her mouth.

“It’s not very nutritious and won’t help you recover after training,” Wilder answered.

“Not to mention it’s catastrophic to the waistline,” his mother added.

Lyra waved his mother off with her empty fork. “Who cares about waistlines when there is cake?”

Aine smiled, a broad, genuine smile at Lyra. “That is an excellent point.”

After Lyra had devoured not only her cake, but also Wilder’s, which he slid towards her, Oberon poured his evening elixir. He lifted the bottle in offering to Wilder, who nodded. The amber liquid was smoothly poured into the crystal glass.

A guard with black hair slipped into their chambers and handed Oberon a slip of paper, which he took with a nod. The guard strode out of the room without a word.

“What was that about?” Wilder asked, taking the glass from his father.

“We’ll discuss it later.”

Lyra looked on curiously as Wilder took a sip from the crystal glass.

Aine tutted, “Now that’s one thing you don’t want to partake in.”

“What is it?”

“It’s an elvish liquor,” Oberon replied. “And you don’t know you don’t like it until you try.”

He poured her a tiny splash and slid it over to her. Wilder watched with an amused expression, trying to decide if she was going to spit it in his father’s face or cough like she was drying out.