Page 89 of In Violent Waves

Wilder did not care what the courtiers thought of him, at least, not anymore. It was empty, their praise and love. It would turn to hate and repulsion within the blink of an eye.

But it was Lyra’s first time in their private chambers, and although he had grown accustomed to the room, he remembered the magic of it.

Gleaming evergreen marble, lavish moldings, paintings spanning centuries of monarchs and his ancestors, and books. The books were, without a doubt, his favorite part of the room, and would be Lyra’s, too. Colossal bookshelves that required rolling ladders lined an entire wall. She thirsted for knowledge, and while he told her he would rather live the adventures, he enjoyed a good story.

Lyra jerked to a stop, her mouth dropping open as she stared at the wall of bookshelves. Wilder stopped with her, one hand in his pocket, and enjoyed her mute surprise.

“You eat in a library?” she asked, when she could formulate words.

He chuckled and straightened the lapels of his black jacket. “This isn’t the royal library, just my parents’ private chambers.”

She gawked at him now. “This isn’t the library?”

Wilder shook his head and gestured for her to keep up.

“This would take me a hundred lifetimes to read,” she whispered.

He shrugged. That was kind of the point. “Elves have considerable lifetimes.”

And from what he remembered, the merfolk did too, but murder and sabotage ran rampant in their courts, and lives were often cut short.

“Darlings,” his mother greeted them.

She was already sitting on her usual side of the table. Her gown was the same lilac shade as the twilight hour, an ode to her favorite time of day. It was when she did her best thinking, she claimed.

King Oberon sat at the head of the table, watching them approach with a keen eye. Wilder could feel him gauging the distance between their bodies, the near matching of their ensembles, but if he cared—he didn’t let on.

“Lyra, Wilder,” he greeted them with a boorish tone.

Lyra inclined her head in greeting to them both but did not deign to reply.

Wilder held the chair opposite his mother out for Lyra, and as she took her seat, he whispered low into her ear, “Bepleasant.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the napkin beside her golden plate. She flapped it obnoxiously before placing it in her lap.

Wilder heaved a sigh and took his place opposite his father.

“How was your first training, my dear?” Aine asked her, a smirk quirking her lips.

“Abysmal,” Lyra complained.

His father shot him a look as Aine chuckled.

“I hope Wilder wasn’t the cause of such despair.”

A dangerous gleam entered Lyra’s eyes, but she blinked and it was gone.

“No, unfortunately, he is an excellent mentor. Especially with this being my first time.”

All eyes turned to Lyra as she took a sip from her water goblet.

“First time?” Oberon asked.

Lyra nodded and set the glass back down. “I’ve never done any physical activity before. It’s not allowed.”

He had never seen his mother look that way. Her nostrils flared wide, and she clutched the diamond choker that wrapped around her neck. She was horrified.

“It’s notallowed?”