Page 65 of In Violent Waves

“No. Let her sleep,” Wilder replied and nodded to the door.

The servant pushed the door open with a smile and stepped back, allowing him entry. He swept inside, heading for the large iron bed on the opposite wall. It was a grand room for a hostage, but that was the kind of king his father was.

Wilder placed Lyra on top of the downy comforter. He ripped a blanket off a nearby velvet chair and draped it over her.

“I’m going to bathe. Send for me the moment she wakes,” Wilder ordered the young elf. “And don’t touch her—she doesn’t like to be touched.”

Cool air licked at her skin, and she was grateful the flames had extinguished. Lyra clenched her hands at her sides and felt the softness she had sunk into. She was lying on a bed, the softest bed she had ever felt. It made the bed at the tavern feel like a boulder.

Peeling open one eye, she was met with a stunning mural of wild, lush land and emerald trees. Tall, willowy women danced between tree trunks and orbs of golden light.

A throat cleared from beside her, and she turned to see Wilder. He had bathed, and his damp hair was brushed back, giving her a full view of the thick band of briars that wrappedfrom one side of his head to the other like a crown. The point of an ear peeked out behind his dark hair.

He was back in his true form. His fingers drummed upon the arms of a crimson velvet chair, and she marveled at the length of his fingers, the bulges of veins visible on his forearms. A black tunic with a standing collar enhanced the broadness of his shoulders and the length of his neck.

He was regrettably attractive and pristine.

And Lyra—she was filthy from their travels and her brush with death. She could feel the dirt clinging to the dried sweat on her face and arms. She almost cringed deeper into the bed, but didn’t want to ruin it further with her muck.

“How are you feeling?” Wilder asked.

He shifted in the chair, leaning forward, and stared at her with all the intensity of an elvish male who was used to being answered.

“Fine,” she croaked out, wetting her lips with her tongue.

Her mouth was dry like she had swallowed a handful of sand.

Wilder grasped the glass of water off the bedside table and extended it to her. Lyra watched as a droplet of condensation ran down the side of the green glass and lurched up. Taking it in both hands, she gulped it down and looked around for more.

He chuckled, standing from the chair and grabbing a pewter pitcher to pour her more.

“I’ll call up for some food. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Lyra nodded as she drained the entire glass again.

“I’ll send for the servant to draw your bath.”

Lyra’s eyes flashed with humiliation and challenge.

“Are you saying I smell?”

“Terribly so,” Wilder threw over his shoulder as he walked for the door. “Take it easy tonight. The king has requested an audience with you tomorrow.”

Lyra looked from Wilder to the window opposite her room. The thick burgundy curtains were drawn up tight, leaving her no clues about the time of day.

Wilder leaned his back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s just past seven in the evening. This room will be guarded day and night, so don’t even think about leaving. Bathe, eat, and then sleep. I’ll fetch you in the morning.”

He slipped out the door before she could remark about his use of the word fetch.

She flexed her toes and wiggled her fingers before ripping off the blanket and pulling up her shirt. There was not a trace of the venom that had blackened her veins. And her body felt strange. Lyra wasn’t sure if it was from the venom or being around elvish magic. But she felt taller, stronger, somehow. There were no longer blisters on her feet, but her head felt foggy, as if the slumber she had awakened from did not want to release her.

Sliding out of bed, her feet landed on a plush, woven rug. It was like the mural on the ceiling, but close up, she could make out rabbits, birds, and even what she thought was a unicorn.

She glanced around the room, becoming curious. A long dresser, a tall armoire, and several doors she had no idea what could be behind. There was also a vanity placed to absorb the light that would stream through the windows if the curtains were not drawn.

Lyra headed that way first, hoping to glean some kind of inkling of where her room was. But as she made her way across the room on sure feet, a key slid into the lock and her door opened.