Page 135 of In Rising Tides

Fang shrugged.

Angler, however, scrubbed a hand across his face before answering. “Because Aegir wants him to know his place.”

Fang glared at Angler, but this time he shrugged. “What?” she asked.

The power struggle between them was amusing, albeit fleetingly. They didn’t seem to waver in their support of Drystan, but they also didn’t think too highly of her if they were willing to air their grievances so freely.

“Have there been a lot of decrees lately?”

She threw the question out like bait on a line.

The council chamber door loomed closer.

Fang reached for the iron door handle. Angler shot a look down the hallway behind him and said, ever so quietly, under his breath. “Too many.”

They pulled the doors open in unison as Lyra sucked in a sharp breath.

Exhaustion still clung to her like a second skin, but something else lurked beneath her even facade. The fear was subtle, it adhered to her spine as thin as a spider’s silk.

Her spine, which she wrenched stiff as a pillar, before gliding through the threshold.

“Ah, there she is …” Drystan’s voice swept across the silent room.

It was darker in here than it had been before, or her sight was fading again. She could not be sure of either.

Lyra peered into the darkness to see that most of the council gathered closest to her were Adamaris and Rigel.

Adamaris was whispering something to Rigel. The princes of Zeal and Pavlopetri had yet to acknowledge her arrival, and there was something concerning about the stiff set of Adamaris’ shoulders that increased her anxiety.

However, when Rigel flicked his eyes to hers and graced her with a soft nod, she exhaled.

“I’m glad you weren’t too long,” Drystan said as Lyra swam towards him, passing Ishmael and Hadrian.

Ishmael floated with his arms clasped behind his back, a pensive look skewing his features as Lyra bobbed a greeting to him before turning to Hadrian.

He was the only one who smiled at her. A lock of inky-dark hair swept across his forehead, and he brushed it away, his smile growing. It was then that Lyra noticed a dimple in his left cheek.

It shocked her that she had never noticed it before. But he also hadn’t ever smiled at her before. She was grateful for that smile as she noticed who Drystan was positioned between.

Caspian and Lir.

Lir had been outspoken in his displeasure of her, and although not unkind, Caspian hadn’t been welcoming either.

There was a single member missing from the group. Lyra cast her eyes around the room, expecting him to become corporeal in a murky shadow.

“Where is Caius?” she asked, coming to a halt beside Drystan.

Drystan scowled at her, his face pinching as he looked her over.

“He’s bringing the survivor,” he said at last. “You could have taken more time to get ready.”

Lyra glared at him. “You threatened me.”

“I didn’t realize you would need time to appear more … polished.” He shrugged.

His tone wasn’t rude, but the words were. She shoved them aside and focused on the important bit of his answer—the survivor.

Her mind whirled at the ramifications of that statement. Drystan had said there had been an attack, but hadn’t explained who and where. With tension not even a blip in the current, she couldn’t wrap her head around what the urgency had been in meeting.