Page 47 of In Violent Waves

When she had ground all the flowers down into a mushy mess, she began spreading them all over her heels and toes. It was cold and refreshing. Relief had her eyes slipping closed.

“Here,” Otto said, and her eyes fluttered open. “For your feet.”

He held out several scraps of fabric, and she took them with a smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered again.

That was twice now she had said the words and meant them. Maybe she would be better at this kindness thing than she thought.

Wilder watched as Lyra tied her feet up with scraps of fabric from Otto’s tunic. He should have been the one to cut fabric from his cloak.

The cloak still smelled faintly of her. After she was finished wrapping her feet, she stuffed them back into her boots with a wince. It clawed at him.

Maelys picked up the discarded flower and tucked it into Lyra’s hair with a smile. They clasped hands, and Maelys pulled Lyra to her feet.

“If it bleeds again—say something,” he told her.

Lyra only nodded. He didn’t like that either. He wanted to hear her words.

“Say it,” he commanded.

She lifted her chin, meeting his stare with a livid one of her own.

“I will,” she hissed.

He liked it too much when she showed her true colors, the fire that writhed within her veins, the monster that lurked under the surface. It felt more authentic. Like only he could bring out that side of her.

He didn’t want to know what that said about him.

But maybe he could push her to let the monster show, and then he wouldn’t feel too bad about killing her.

It was when she was kind that it irked him. Power like hers shouldn’t belong to anyone, but not the least bit to someone who was kind.

A monster having that power made more sense to him.

Monsters were meant to be vanquished.

Wilder glowered at her before pushing past and setting off again. He had his mind made up that they would walk until they reached Pinna. He did not want to sleep in these woods longer than necessary.

Pinna would be the last town they reached before the Wilds. After Pinna, they would cross the flatlands, a barren, sickly green wasteland of nothing that’s on the edge of the Three Sisters Swamp. After the swamp was the Valewood, and thenhome.

To the rolling hills of the High Land.

They were still so far away. His decision to strengthen her felt like folly now. Because the longer it took them to get to the Wilds, the longer he had to be near her.

He could still hear her stumbling behind him. She and the riot of birds fluttering about in the trees.

Wilder turned to tell Maelys to tell them to leave, but she was not flanking him. No, she was walking beside Lyra and Otto. He balled his hands into fists. Had he not just commanded them to keep their distance? Ignoring the urge to yell at Maelys, he looked forward again and kept moving.

One step at a time.

They needed to get to Pinna, and then he could have a break from her, from them all.

Lyra tripped and collapsed with a delicate shriek.

Wilder wanted to rage.

This was going to take forever. He spun and ripped her from the ground and carried her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.