Page 82 of Elemental Becoming

I set my glass down, grinning. “Let’s see . . . there was the time she set a merchant’s stand on fire.”

“That was barely my fault!” she protests.

Rowena and Sera both raise their brows. “Explain.”

I laugh. “Lyra was trying to impress some travelers with her very exaggerated storytelling. She climbed onto a crate, got a little too enthusiastic with her arms, and knocked over an oil lamp.”

Sera bites back a laugh. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” I say. “The oil spilled all over a table covered in fabric and dried herbs. The whole thing went up in flames in seconds.”

Rowena shakes her head, delighted. “And what did our fearless chaos goblin do?”

“Panicked and grabbed the first thing in reach to put it out,” I say, giving Lyra a pointed look.

“I was trying to help,” Lyra mutters into her glass.

Rowena leans back, eyes narrowing with amusement. “And what was it?”

I take a sip of my wine, letting it stretch, then arch a brow. “A full sack of flour.”

Sera’s glass pauses halfway to her mouth. “No.”

Rowena slaps the table, already cackling. “Flour explodes in fire!”

I nod. “Oh, it absolutely does. It went up in a huge, choking cloud, and suddenly we had a mini firestorm in the middle of the marketplace.”

Sera covers her mouth, laughing. “What happened next?”

“The merchant was screaming, the crowd was screaming, and Lyra—” I shoot her a look. “—decided the best solution was to run.”

Lyra throws up her hands. “I didn’t run! I strategically retreated!”

Rowena wipes at her eyes. “And let me guess—you left Amara to deal with the aftermath?”

I sigh dramatically. “Of course she did. I had to convince the merchant not to call for the guards while Lyra disappeared into the crowd like a shadow in broad daylight.”

Lyra shrugs. “Well, I was very motivated.”

Rowena and Sera are crying with laughter now, but I hold up a hand. “Wait, wait. That’s not even the best one.”

Lyra drags a hand down her face. “Amara, I swear—”

I ignore her. “There was also the time she tried to win a bet against a drunk soldier and ended up stuck in a barrel for half a night.”

Rowena actually wheezes, and Sera nearly spills her wine. “What?!”

Lyra tips back the rest of her drink. “Oh gods.”

“Oh no, no—you have to tell us this one,” Sera insists.

I grin, throwing my arms out as if performing on stage.

“Festival night,” I begin. “Crowds everywhere. Music, shouting, far too much alcohol.”

I point my finger at my best friend. “Andthis onedecides it’s the perfect time to make a bet.”

Lyra rolls her eyes.