Page 180 of Elemental Becoming

She stares at me in disbelief. “That’s not the point, Amara.” Her voice cracks around my name. “You didn’t just win. You broke something in the air. In the way magics works. You—”

She stops abruptly, dragging a hand through her sweat-damphair.

“I thought I lost you.”

The words land harder than all the others.

I blink. “Lyra—”

“I couldn’t find you after the battle,” she says quietly now. “Then Garrick came hauling you out of there looking like you were about to collapse, and I . . . ” She exhales shakily. “I didn’t know if you were okay.”

I stare at her, guilt settling heavily in my chest.

I was so consumed by exhaustion, by what I’d done, that I never stopped to think about what she saw. What it must have felt like to watch her best friend lose control of something that powerful. Or what it must have felt like to think I might not survive it.

I swallow hard. “I’m here.”

It feels painfully inadequate, but it’s all I have to give her right now.

“I swear to every god that exists, if you ever do something like that again without warning me first, I will personally make sure you regret it.”

A weak smile tugs at my mouth.

“Noted,” I murmur.

“No, not ‘noted,’” Lyra huffs. “This is a serious complaint. Filed under ‘My Best Friend is a Lunatic with Too Much Magics.’”

“That’s a long filing category,” Garrick cuts in, grinning.

I scan her quickly for injuries she might be trying to hide.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice still hoarse. “Are you hurt?”

Lyra snorts, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Just a few cuts and bruises.” She tilts her chin toward Garrick, shooting him a pointed look. “Not that I got to see as much of the battle as I would’ve liked, because Garrick here made sure of that.”

“I’m grateful for that,” I say, casting Garrick a sidelongglance.

My eyes land on a long tear in her dress, the split emerald green satin revealing the ugly gash on her hip. It’s bloody and oozing.

“Ly!” I exclaim, pointing at it. “How did that happen?”

“That happened the one time Lyra stepped out from behind my shield,” Garrick answers, his voice tight.

Lyra has the decency to look remorseful. “I know. I’m sorry!”

“Why haven’t you seen a healer?” I ask.

“Because I was looking for you.” She takes a step closer. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not,” Garrick and I say in unison.

I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re going to a healer.”

Lyra’s eyes dart between us before she releases a defeated sigh. “Fine.”

The tension immediately eases from Garrick’s expression, and I don’t miss the relief that flashes across his face.

Lyra finally steps back, running a hand through her blood-smeared hair. She looks exhausted, her skin paler than usual, and one side of her dress is stained crimson from the wound on her hip. Yet she’s standing here arguing with us instead of taking care of herself because she was searching for me.