Page 64 of In Violent Waves

An ancient door made of ash wood creaked open as the witch approached, and torches flickered to life as they trudged down the smooth steps. It smelled of herbs and smoke down here.

The healer’s workrooms were one of the few places he avoided. A monstrous fireplace crackled with green flames as the fire consumed driftwood from the shores on the east side of the kingdom. Bubbling sounded from the cauldron, hovering over the flames as the witch waltzed up to it.

She ladled a teacup full of violet tea and handed it to the prince.

“She needs to ingest at least half of that cup. Maybe more.”

Wilder looked from Lyra to the cup. The witch nodded towards the worktable that was pushed into the corner.

“You can set her on that.”

He carried Lyra’s lifeless body to the table and set her down with a gentle reverence before taking the cup from the witch. She helped him angle Lyra’s head just right. He blew on the tea to cool it down before he pressed it to her lips.

“Legs, I need you to drink this. It’s the antidote.”

Lyra’s lips opened a fraction, and the skin cracked and bled. When she opened her mouth wide enough, he poured some of the tea in. The inside of her mouth was full of blisters from the heat. His chest ached.

Such pain, such excruciating pain she had endured.

Wilder stopped pouring, and Lyra heaved a breath before opening her mouth wider.

“More, Prince,” the witch ordered.

He lifted the teacup and poured more into her waiting mouth. Lyra gulped it down, keeping her mouth open for more.

She reminded him of the baby birds being fed by their mothers, but he didn’t think she would appreciate the joke.When he had poured the entire cup of tea into her mouth, her eyes opened.

Red-rimmed and glassy, she looked at him before turning her gaze to the witch.

“Thank you …” she trailed off, not knowing the witch’s name.

“Jordania,” the witch answered with a hesitant smile.

“Jordania,” Lyra replied before her eyes slid closed once more.

“She will probably sleep for the rest of the day, and then she will be hungry. Make sure she eats plenty of fruit. The acidity will purify her blood,” Jordania ordered him.

Wilder looked relieved, his shoulders relaxing, and his breathing came easier.

“Thank you,Jordania.”

It was the first time he had ever addressed a witch, and he felt the stirrings of guilt. She nodded before whirling away to a rack full of dried herbs.

Wilder eased Lyra off the table and back into his arms, the action familiar to him now. He walked out of the workroom and into the hallway. A servant was there and waiting for him. A young elf with white flowers in her light blue hair. She smiled exuberantly at him.

“We have a room ready for the princess, Your Highness. She is to be on the north wing—near you.”

Wilder clenched his teeth. Of course, she was. When the servant’s smile faded, he gave a dip of his chin.

“Lead the way.”

She beamed at him then and scooped up the hem of her ruffled cream uniform. Her footsteps pitter-pattered against the marble as if she walked on her toes.

Wilder looked down at Lyra and noted the subtle changes. The scarlet of her cheeks was fading to a rosy red, the cracks inher lips were smoothing away, and the ghastly color of her skin now resembled the alabaster of the statues instead.

He was so enraptured at taking in these changes, he almost ran into the servant who had led him to a blue door right across the hall from him.

“Shall I attend to her, Your Highness?”