Page 30 of In Violent Waves
In Atlantis, her reading had always been confined to her room or the stuffy library with its nearly murderous attendants. She briefly wondered what libraries in the mortal realm would look like—or in the Wilds.
Lyra was so caught up in her daydreams that she didn’t even notice the building they stepped into or the uncomfortable silence that greeted them.
Humans knew of the elves, but it seemed their appearance wasn’t always accepted.
The evidence of that truth was made apparent by the boar of a woman by the window, shrewdly analyzing each step. Diners at the sparse tables split their attention between them and the two other people crowded around a far back table. Some didn’t even dare to take a bite of their food until they had passed.
Wood creaked underneath her feet. It was everywhere: the walls, the ceiling, even a winding staircase at the far left of the room. All the same grayish wood. There was nothing of the sort in Atlantis. She studied each groove before meeting the penetrating stare of the humans.
Lyra made it a point to stare at each and every one who glared at her until they looked away. They knew the others were elvish.
Would they know what she was, too?
Otto plopped down on a spindly chair on the opposite side of a stained and rough wooden table. The two people gathered around it didn’t startle at his presence or even look at him at all. Their attention was trained on her and the deathly quiet prince behind her.
“Took you long enough,” a feminine voice purred from beside Otto. She leaned back in her chair. Her molten golden eyes never left Wilder’s face.
Wilder nodded and pulled out a chair for Lyra before taking the one next to it. She stood there dumbfounded, staring at it. Had he done that on purpose to confuse her, or was it some kind of elvish tradition? She tried not to care but wound up annoyed.
“I am perfectly capable of pulling out my chair,” she hissed under her breath.
Their eyes turned to her, and her back stiffened. Wilder rested an elbow on the arm of the chair and brushed a long finger over his lips.
“I am aware. Now sit.”
Their gazes stayed locked in battle before she finally plopped down in the chair with an annoyed flourish.
The elf on the other side of Lyra pulled his bowl closer and away from her.
She wanted to snort. She wasn’t an animal that would steal his food.
Otto pushed a bowl across the table and nodded to her. “This is for you.”
Lyra looked at the chipped blue bowl and the steaming soup inside before looking at Wilder. Not for permission, of course, but for safety. She had never consumed prepared mortal food before.
Wilder met her stare before giving her a quick dip of his chin. “It’s just stew.”
“Got her trained already? That was quick,” the man beside her chuckled, shoveling in another mouthful of the stew.
Lyra froze with her hand wrapped around the spoon. She gripped it tightly in her hand, deciding if she had the strength to stab him with the pointed end.
“Don’t, Ridge,” Wilder ordered, clenching his hands into fists.
Now that he knew what she was capable of, he seemed wary of her. But the elf—Ridge—didn’t heed his warning.
“She doesn’t seem dangerous for her kind, does she, Maelys?”
Ridge leered at her, his brown eyes the color of the tree bark they had passed through on their journey here. It occurred to her then that how she was seeing them in the mortal realm wouldn’t be how they looked in the Elvish realm once they had crossed the veil into magic. She wondered if they would look similar to this or if they would resemble the land from which they were from.
“She seems kind of tame.”
Lyra lashed out, stabbing at his hand with the pointy end of the spoon. Ridge snatched it from her and waved it with a taunt in front of her. She seethed, curling her empty hand into a fist.
She felt heavy eyes upon her skin and looked to see the female—Maelys, studying her before looking at Wilder.
“Quite tame, actually. I wouldn’t have missed.”
Lyra met her stare head-on and let a remnant of the monster show. She bared her teeth at Maelys.
