Page 69 of In Violent Waves

“Did you need something, Wilder?” Dust asked, trying to conceal the smirk on his face as he took in Wilder’s nightclothes.

“Has she attempted anything?” Wilder asked, squaring his shoulders.

“No,” Oron replied.

Wilder liked Oron the best; he was a male of few words.

“She fell asleep right after she ate. We’ll let you know if we hear anything,” Dust offered, with a dip of his chin.

“I appreciate that,” Wilder replied, before slipping back into his room.

He had slept little while in the mortal realm, and though he rarely required much, he suffered from a bone-deep exhaustion. The meeting tomorrow would take all of his energy, so he would need to at least get a few hours.

But he couldn’t get Lyra off his mind.

It took a few more hours, but sleep took him.

The following morning, Wilder paced outside Lyra’s door. The guards had switched out already, and the morning duty took over their watches. Wilder didn’t recognize these guards, and he was in no mood for conversation.

The blue-haired servant had curtsied as she passed him earlier before entering Lyra’s room to help her ready for her audience with the King.

“How long does it take one female to get ready?” Wilder grumbled under his breath.

The guards on either side of the door didn’t acknowledge his rhetorical question or react to his rising frustration at all. They were well-trained.

Lyra’s door opened, and Wilder lurched to a stop.

He was done for. She was a creature of infinite beauty and his most achingly intimate desires.

A long gown of purple clung to her body and accentuated all of her curves. The long column of her neck looked even longer beside the thin straps that held the dress.

If he had been a painter, he would have tried all his life to paint her as he saw her now. She was exquisite.

Her eyes blazed brighter as she beheld him, and a small smirk tugged up her lips. She had left her hair down, and the auburn tresses floated up around her face. His magic reached for her and stirred the air.

Time stopped, and Wilder drew a slow, deep breath.

Lyra pressed her lips together.

“We’re going to be late.”

The small bit of delight on Lyra’s face vanished. Like wind snuffing out a flame.

He turned, giving her his back, and strode down the hall. Leaving her, flanked by two guards, to follow him.

“Do you know the reason for this meeting?” Lyra called after Wilder.

He slowed then, if only so he didn’t have to yell through the palace.

“One would assume it’s the negotiation part of your kidnapping.”

Lyra snorted, and he clenched his jaw.

“Obviously—but do you know why?”

Wilder thought back to what Otto had told him. His father was going to offer her a deal. He wouldn’t like it, and she would agree.

This meeting was as life-altering for him as it would be for her, it seemed. He kept walking without answering her, and he could feel her impatience growing.