Page 7 of In Violent Waves

A tug had her lips curling up.

It was like this land was made for her …

No.

Lyra stomped it down. She was not here to admire.

Clearing her throat, she analyzed the distinct stone buildings and the rolling dark hills in the distance.

“I believe we’re somewhere on the Emerald Coast.”

Her smile turned feral.

That’s where they had left her mother.

Maybe a little revenge was in order.

Lyra blew a lock of auburn hair out of her face and stomped off onto the landing and into the street.

Seraphina walked steadily, bouncing on her toes. She didn’t appear to be impacted by the pins and needles that stabbed Lyra with each step she took. Even Seraphina’s hair had changed color. Gone were the silver strands, and in their place, a flaxen blonde.

Marina moved slowly, adjusting to the weight and pain, if the grimace on her face was any indication.

They tromped across the lane on their new legs. Their boots smacked against the stone. The feel of solid ground beneath her jarred with each step.

Crashing waves against the rocks nearby sang to Lyra’s blood. Yet, it did not sound like the call of home, but of a warning. She pushed away the fear it brought and focused on not collapsing under the weight of it all.

“How quickly until we get used to it?” Lyra hissed, feeling the rattle in her knees and the bark of protest in her joints.

Seraphina shrugged. “Your incessant whining is tiresome. Think of something else or stay silent.”

Lyra reached out to yank her by the hair, but a screech had them freezing. The sound was terrifying and unusual.

“What was that?” Seraphina asked as the whites of her eyes grew.

Lyra searched her memory through every book she had read about the land.

“It’s some kind of animal—a flying kind,” she muttered. “Look who’s being tiresome now.” She shot Seraphina a look. “Let’s just find a tavern or something.”

The buildings along the lane got closer together. Their wood and stone facades were plain compared to the spires and gold of Atlantis. And the smells—gods, the smells. Dirt, smoke, and something putrid like rotting meat.

Lyra clung to those things to keep her from admiring the rest of the surface world. The breeze brought in fresh scents, the bright moon, and the new and exciting animals.

“I hate it here,” she grumbled, trying her best to convince herself. “Let’s just pick our humans, eat their hearts, and get back.”

Seraphina giggled, twirling her green skirt in her hand as she walked. “I think it’s lovely. The air is pleasant.”

Marina and Lyra shared a look, their noses scrunching in disgust. Lyra huffed a sigh and tried to ignore the frustration that Seraphina’s excitement caused. She wished she could embrace this place, too. But that would make it back to Atlantis, and there would be hell to pay.

They should not like it here. It was unnatural to be out of the water. But as Lyra scanned their surroundings once more, she couldn’t help but notice the plants.

Yarrow, butterfly bush, white clover, and Scotch broom.

Tiny leaves and dainty petals. The drawings in her books did not do them justice. Excitement lit her eyes. She had obsessed over these things before that wretched maid had thrown them out.

She shoved the thought away again. They were not here to admire the land. They were here to collect their tithes and return to—where they belonged.

A wooden sign creaked in the wind. The chipped and faded paint was that of a mug of ale clinking another, and marked the building as a tavern.