Page 99 of In Violent Waves

Once she was wrinkled, an aspect of this body she detested, she rose from the bath. But there wasn’t a towel in sight.

“Daisy,” she called.

“Yes, my lady?”

“There’s no towel.”

Daisy burst through the door.

“Oh goodness me! I’m so sorry!”

She was as flustered now as she had been when she left. The cabinet beside the tub held stacks of fluffy white towels, and Daisy pulled one out and shook it open.

Lyra stepped into the open towel, wrapping it around her.

“Are you alright?” Lyra asked, noting the pink hue to Daisy’s cheeks and her widened eyes.

“I-I am, my lady. Thank you for asking,” she stuttered out.

Lyra nodded, but didn’t believe that answer at all. That was fine, though. It wasn’t as if they were friends who confided in each other.

Soft chocolate-brown leather pants, a gauzy bell-sleeved blouse, and a strange, thick band of leather waited for Lyra on her bed. It was similar, but different from what she wore for training yesterday. An assortment of leather straps lay in a heap by the thick band.

“What is all this?”

Daisy looked at the pile.

“It’s your new training clothes.” She pointed to the thick band. “That goes around your waist to protect you. And those go around your wrists and forearms.”

Lyra scrunched her nose. So many constraining items.

But Daisy didn’t wait for a response. Holding up the pants, Lyra stepped in. The inside of them felt strange, cool, and soft.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Daisy chuckled. “I know it feels strange. It wicks the moisture away from your skin when you sweat.”

Lyra marveled at the magic. She was trying to respect Daisy’s level of modesty, but once the pants were up around her waist, she dropped the towel and stood topless. This time, Daisy didn’t seem bothered as she tied the straps on the side of Lyra’s hips.

When Lyra had shifted so that Daisy could see better, the scars on the inside of her arms became visible, as did the strange circular-shaped one below her left breast.

“My heavens,” Daisy whispered. “What happened?”

The question surprised them both, and Daisy covered her mouth with a hand and took a step back.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Lyra shook her head. The question wasn’t offensive. But she couldn’t imagine why Daisy would care.

“The arms? My fiancée gave them to me,” Lyra replied, tucking an arm over her breast to hide the scar there.

“That sounds dreadful,” Daisy whispered, clutching the neckline of her ruffled dress.

Lyra snorted. “He is.”

Daisy’s eyes grew wide, and then she burst into laughter. Lyra watched as the girl now clutched at her stomach and wiped tears from her eyes. It surprised her how much joy it brought to make Daisy laugh.

“That was marvelous, my lady.”