Page 23 of In Violent Waves

Before he knew it, he had an armful of the thin stalks. The wispy petals tickled his chin, and dirt from their roots coated his trousers. But he ignored both as he hurried back to her. She had looked so pale when he left; her breath had stuttered from her mouth in pants. The pain must be excruciating.

The smell of a raging sea reached him before he saw her, and the sight had him stumbling. Her skin was the color of moonlight filtering through the fluffy branches of the cedar tree. She was lying on her side, her auburn hair a mass of curls upon the forest floor. Her face was solemn and peaceful in this state.

The pain had become too much, and blessed sleep dragged her down before he could return. He approached her on silent feet, not wanting to startle her awake if she truly was asleep. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and he placed the yarrow beside her. She smelled of rain and the sea, the sharp scent of fear dissipating with every thump of her heart.

Wilder pressed his back against the boulder before easing down onto the ground. With only a small amount of magic in the mortal realm, he could feel the wear on his joints and the exhaustion that would be kept at bay in the Wilds. He rarely required rest, but here, it was a necessity.

Instead, though, he opted to keep watch for them.

The humans had stumbled upon her too quickly, and something about that didn’t seem right, almost as if they had been looking.

Lyra whimpered in her sleep, and he jerked his head to her, ready to fight off the attacker, but there was no one. She was having a nightmare. Her brow furrowed, and she clenched and relaxed her jaw. Without thinking, Wilder placed a hand on her shoulder.

The weight of his palm had her stilling once more. The frown on her face slipped away.

Sleep was only a temporary relief. The moon was still in the sky when Lyra flinched awake.

The pain crashed back down and burned her eyes. She fumbled in the dark.

“The yarrow is next to you,” Wilder said, his voice rough with disuse.

Her hand clasped around the thin stalks, and she pulled them to her. The best way to use yarrow was to brew the leaves in a tea. But without fire or time to waste, she opted to shove the whole plant into her mouth and began chewing.

It was bitter, but that didn’t stop her from devouring one entire plant and grabbing for another.

Wilder watched on with amused curiosity. And she didn’t care how ferociously she ate the plants. She allowed a bit of the monster within to slip through the cracks of her human facade.

Let him see it.

Even with her human teeth and blunt nails, she looked like the mermaid that would have ripped his heart from his chest and devoured it whole.

Lyra groaned and pressed a hand to her stomach.

“Are you alright?” Wilder asked, sitting up straighter.

“I ate too quickly.”

Lyra belched.

His eyes widened in alarm. He probably had never heard such a sound come from a female before.

“Better?”

“Much.” She beamed at him.

Small white petals littered the cloak, still tied backward around her. Her auburn hair had fallen from the intricate updo she had it in, and it hung in loose tendrils down to her lap.

She looked wild now.

“What time is it?” Lyra asked, staring up at the sky.

“Late.”

His answer didn’t surprise her. She had only mere hours left of the Tithe before it would be too late. But even if she escaped from him now, she wouldn’t make it in time. She had long since passed the point of no return.

Lyra shoved that thought away just in time for a new rippling pain to draw her attention to the muscles of her lower legs. She rubbed at them, trying to remember the name, trying to focus on anything other than the hopelessness that would consume her if she thought about it.

Her life was over.