Page 42 of In Violent Waves

“Do you have something you’d like to say?”

“You mean to tell me that in all those books, you really never read or learned anything about the elves?”

He was calling her a liar again. Her chest tightened, and her lips drew back over her teeth as she squeezed his shoulders.

“I told you I didn’t. There were no books about the elves in our libraries, and my teachers didn’t elaborate on anything other than ‘avoid elves at all costs; they’re dangerous’.”

Ridge, Maelys, and Otto laughed, full belly laughs, and Lyra’s cheeks bloomed with color.

“Why is that funny?”

Wilder halted in a small clearing. A riot of small purple flowers with vibrant red centers danced in the breeze all around them. He let go of her, and she slid ungracefully to the ground. A sharp, slicing pain shot through her legs and up to her abdomen.

“Merfolk have murdered more mortals and creatures than the elves have in centuries of our war.”

Lyra found herself looking at Otto for confirmation.

“He’s not wrong. We’re all dangerous. Just in our own way.”

She stayed quiet after his response.

It made little sense. If her kind were responsible for more casualties, why would they frame the elves in such a light?

A flash of Wilder in the night, striking down those ruffians, sprang to her mind.

She had never seen a merman or mermaid cut anyone down like that.

“You don’t have a retort for that?” Wilder asked, cocking his head to the side.

It grew quiet in their small circle, and she could feel different eyes on her, awaiting her response. And for once, she didn’t have a biting retort.

“She did not know,” Otto replied after a while, addressing Wilder. He swung his attention back to Lyra.

“Take a moment to rest, relieve yourself if you need to, and then we need to keep moving,” he said and stomped away.

Otto watched Wilder walk away before Otto walked off in the opposite direction.

Lyra was missing something. Some kind of fundamental layer to this group of elves. Wilder was their leader. Otto, a close second. Even if there was an undercurrent of hostility there. But where did that leave Maelys and Ridge? Honestly, she was shocked that there was a female in his guard.

That would never have been allowed in Atlantis or any of its territories. Women were not allowed in positions of power—or positions at all. No women scholars, healers, or councilors. She felt a small kernel of something grow when she thought of what Maelys’ position meant for females in the Wilds. It had a light, buttery taste. Was that hope?

Lyra didn’t need to relieve herself, and her legs still felt peculiar, so she sat down in the small clearing. Maelys and Ridge walked away together, leaving her all alone. She lay down and stared up at the clear blue sky.

It was breathtaking. Like the clear, quiet waters outside of her kingdom, when the sun shone brightly through the still current. It was rare for her to get to experience a moment like this. No one was watching or judging her. No one reported to her father every word she spoke or decision she made.

How strange that she had traded one pair of shackles for another, but this one felt far less confining.

Long ago, she had felt a similar way. She had fled the castle and, right before she was dragged back, had felt a brief moment of peace. Much like she did now.

Unfortunately, that peace had turned to agony. And only her books about the land had given her solitude. Now, looking up at the sky, it was like everything she had always dreamed it would be.

Would it be ripped away from her as well?

Wilder rested against a colossal yew tree on the outskirts of the clearing, watching Lyra stare up at the sky. The hard bark of the twisting and bulging trunk bit into the thin linen of his shirt, but he welcomed the pain. Anything to keep his mind off the female before him.

“We have a problem,” Maelys said from behind him.

He was startled, not realizing she had crept up behind him after she had walked off the clearing from the opposite side.