Page 38 of In Violent Waves

Wilder could feel the hollowness in his chest devouring the rest of him.

For Maelys to share her story with Lyra spoke volumes.

There must be something in Lyra worth saving, worth fighting for.

Lyra felt warm in Maelys’ embrace despite the chilly morning air.

“I am sorry,” Maelys whispered.

Lyra’s breath caught in her throat. She had never heard those words before.

“We have lost sight of who we are by following our king’s orders.” Maelys stared out into the forest, and a bird landed on a nearby branch and began singing. The song was beautiful, full of cheer and merriment. Maelys nodded and then looked back at Lyra.

“My story is like many. I was unwanted and unloved. Left in the human world to be raised alongside them.”

“A changeling,” Lyra muttered.

Maelys nodded. “My birth parents might have been monsters, but that action was the single greatest kindness that they could have ever bestowed upon me. My human mother—she loved me.”

Lyra watched as a multitude of reactions flitted across Maelys’ face. She took a seat on the ground, and Lyra sat beside her.

“She was a widow and had already buried two children when I was placed on her doorstep. She often told me that the gods had blessed her that night.” Maelys snorted. “She had a healthy respect for the gods, not just Alfor, the human god, but Ennosidas, and Fionn as well.”

Lyra knew each of the three gods that had split the world between them, but for a human to observe them was confounding. She was taught to recognize only Ennosidas and that the others would be angered at her attention. They were not meant for her. Even Ennosidas merely tolerated her observance since she was a female.

“I grew up strange, called to the magic of the land and animals. But I was alone, if not for my mother; only she had ever understood me. Saw my quietness as curiosity and not aloofness, my desire to speak with animals, kind, and not peculiar. It didn’t make her many friends either. I was still a child when the men came and burned down our house. Screaming that the kind, loving woman who had raised me was a witch.”

Lyra’s throat burned at the emotion raging across Maelys’ face.

“People fear what they do not understand, and they mask that fear with hate. You hate yourself, Lyra, because you do not know yourself.”

Maelys’ words dropped like a stone in water inside Lyra’s chest, the ripples carrying outward until they swallowed her.

“It took me a long time to find myself,” Maelys continued. “It helped that when I ran from the cottage that night, the magic led me to the Wilds. To Ridge, Otto, and Wilder. They became the family I lost, the family I needed. It’s never easy to travel this life alone.”

Lyra took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. The pain in her chest was a living thing, writhing, biting, and clawing. She didn’t know if she was capable of letting people in.

“I have only ever caused pain,” Lyra whispered.

Maelys tilted her head and stared at her.

“Have you ever tried not to?”

Lyra bit her lip and shook her head.

“We’ll try together.”

Maelys stretched out a hand in offering, and Lyra stared and stared at it. At what this meant. She didn’t think for a second that Maelys would offer her story or her friendship under a ruse.

Lyra’s gaze shifted from the offering to Maelys’ eyes. They were golden. As bright as the sun that Lyra had dreamed of seeing one day.

Yes, they were her captors, but it was more than that.

Safety took precedence, and she tentatively took Maelys’ hand and closed her fingers around it.

They walked all through the night and morning, but hadn’t even made it halfway to the next town before Lyra’s legs began to ache and throb.

The sun was well past its apex in the sky and was resting on the tops of the trees to the west. Each step was a stab and burn toher muscles, joints, and bones. With her last step, she grimaced, and a small cry escaped her.