Page 41 of In Violent Waves

“Nasty creatures,” Otto replied, shivering. “They’ll flay you alive to wear your skin.”

“That’s horrific!” Lyra cried.

Wilder snorted, but didn’t add to the conversation.

“Are there really unicorns?” she asked, but tried to disguise the hope in her voice.

Maelys smirked and shrugged. “Some say there are, but we’ve never been able to see them, and we’ve tried for decades.”

“Decades? How long have you all known each other?”

Ridge chuckled. “It’s hard to say. I don’t remember my life before them.”

“Same,” Maelys replied with a smile at him. A tiny speckled bird fluttered down from the trees and landed on her shoulder.

Lyra was stunned as she watched the bird nuzzle Maelys’ cheek.

“Do you all have magic? I mean, besides Otto,” Lyra said.

“Most elves do,” Otto answered. “Maelys has an affinity for animals. Ridge with plants.”

His words excited her. Merfolk didn’t have powers anymore. At least the men didn’t, which made mermaids with magical inclinations sought after.

“Can I see?” Lyra asked, looking from Ridge to Maelys.

They looked at each other before shrugging. Maelys whispered to the bird on her shoulder, and the bird chirped a lovely song in reply.

Lyra stared with quiet excitement, her eyes full of surprise and wonder.

“She says she likes your hair,” Maelys said, looking from the bird to Lyra.

“I like her song,” Lyra whispered.

The bird flapped away, and Lyra looked to Ridge, who was receiving a scathing glare from Wilder. But Ridge wasunperturbed as he plucked a small flower bud from a nearby vine and held it in his hand.

The bud bloomed and then grew. The white petals unfurled with a small shiver.

“But if you pick a flower, won’t it die?” Lyra asked, a bit saddened, if the flower would now wither away.

Ridge shook his head and offered it to her. “The magic will keep it alive as long as I will it.”

Lyra slipped a hand off Wilder’s shoulder and took the tiny flower in her hand.

This day was already becoming one of her favorites. Which made her sad. She was being held hostage by people foretold to be vicious monsters, but in the span of a few hours, she had been treated with more kindness and respect than she ever had by her own people.

“Thank you,” Lyra whispered. “It’s so beautiful.”

Ridge continued to march alongside them and smiled at her gratitude.

“What is the land like there?” Lyra asked, smelling the flower.

“It’s wild,” he answered with a chuckle. “The Wilds are composed of an ancient, mystical forest called the Valewood, the Three Sisters Swamp, and rolling hills called the High Lands, where the castle is built into the highest hill.”

Wilder's grip on her thighs slipped, and he hoisted her up higher on his spine.

“I can walk,” she murmured to him.

He snorted and shook his head.