Page 117 of In Rising Tides

Fang had held open the door, just long enough for Drystan to get a glimpse of her curled up by her window before he shut it, and she was alone again.

Nerida brought pieces of information with her that she had collected from Ishmael with each visit. Apparently, the councilors were still reeling from their free will being taken away.

Lir wanted her executed, but the others were split. Some were trying to find a way to use her magic for their gain, while others were trying to get around her command.

But none were trying to find a way to help her complete her bargain—except Drystan.

Each meeting, he pressed and prodded for any information they could gather that would help her.

And each time they turned up empty-handed.

Lyra felt her frustration grow.

If she had only known more about how to wield her magic, then she could have chosen better words. Words that would have made them believe and help quickly.

But the magic always slipped between her fingers too fast, and no matter how much she tried to stretch it, she couldn’t. It was like trying to keep water from spilling between your fingers.

“I think you’ve recovered enough. We could work on your magic today.”

Nerida was perched on the stool beside Lyra’s window. Her hair was loosely pulled up into a low bun instead of the tight, high bun she usually wore.

She drummed her fingers against her tail as she watched Lyra’s face for a reaction.

Lyra felt the blood drain from her face.

“Try to graze it, but don’t pluck it,” Nerida clarified with a smirk.

Lyra reclined against the massive shell of her bed. “I nearly died last time.”

It wasn’t a refusal, but her fear was apparent.

Nerida swiveled on the stool to fully face her sister. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I don’t want you to wield it, just tell me the shape of it—the feel.” She could sense Lyra’s hesitation. “You must complete the bargain.”

“I know,” Lyra groaned.

“Time is running out,” Nerida snapped, her frustration also cresting. “With so much out of your control, I figured this small bit of it would at least draw your interest.”

Lyra scowled at her sister. The goading was apparent, but it worked.

It worked just like Wilder’s prodding of her had.

The only comfort she found of late was thinking of him, of her friends.

Screwing her eyes shut, she thought of his face as she reached for her magic. She moved with careful slowness as if she were approaching a cornered animal.

Bile churned in her stomach, and she tried to ease it with slow breaths.

That’s it. Gently.

The mysterious voice in her mind crooned.

It sounded primordial—infinite—almost.

Lyra felt the thread beneath her fingertips. It warmed beneath her touch, and she could feel the heat radiating from her chest. Her face relaxed, and her hands rose at her sides.

“Good … now release it,” Nerida said.