Page 81 of In Violent Waves

“What next?” she asked, now that her breathing had slowed and her resolve had settled.

Wilder seemed surprised by her change of tune. He arched a brow and studied her.

“We’ll stretch. Then, do bodyweight activities. Followed by approaching your magic.”

Lyra pursed her lips. “It isn’t safe to use my magic.”

Wilder grinned. “Why do you think guards and Otto are here? The moment you even think about turning it against us, he will kill you.”

Well, that was comforting. But not at all what she meant.

When Lyra didn’t reply, Wilder strode away from the table and out of the shade of the willows. He meant for her to follow, but she stood still, closing her eyes and enjoying the shade for one more moment. With her eyes closed and her breathing slowed, she listened.

She could hear the breeze through the willow trees, and it sounded like the strains of a song. The willow sang as the wind plucked its branches, and she could hear it as clearly as the current once sang in her blood.

“Waiting for you, Legs.”

Lyra blinked her eyes open and found Maelys staring at her, a knowing smile on her face.

“You can hear the willow?”

Lyra gawked at her. “I didn’t dream that?”

Ridge chuckled. “We can all hear it; we’re elves.”

Wilder whistled then, a low, screeching sound, and Lyra flinched.

“Let’s go! It’s only getting hotter out here.” Bedecked in a light tunic and leather pants, she could see the sweat beading on his chest. A sliver of tan skin peeked out from where he had left the ties undone.

Yes, she was going to kill him.

And the best part was, he was going to teach her how.

The sun was scorching as Wilder led Lyra through a number of stretches. She was more limber than he expected after watching her stumble through three laps around the grounds. But he didn’t have high expectations about her strength.

“Do you know what a push-up is?”

She scrunched up her nose before shaking her head. They’d been out here long enough that he could see the flush of sun across her cheeks, and what looked like the beginning of freckles across her nose.

“I’ll show you,” he replied, sinking to his knees.

She bit her lip as she watched him.

He lay flat on his stomach, and the dirt clung to the sweat that had seeped through his tunic. In one swift motion, he pushed up. And just to burn off the building steam in his veins, he pumped out fifty more.

Lyra watched with the kind of boredom one would display watching grass grow.

He stood and gestured to the ground. “Just do as many as you can.”

She flicked her braid over her shoulder, the picture of arrogance, and lay on the ground. It took him a moment to realize she was trying to push up, but couldn’t. He could see her arms trembling through her light-colored blouse.

“Not so easy, is it?”

She turned her head and glared at him. “It’s as difficult as it should be to someone with a larger brain than muscles.”

Wilder tapped the side of his head. “This brainless, muscled prince is the one in charge of your training. So maybe fewer insults and more effort.”

Lyra ground her teeth and shoved up.