Page 144 of In Rising Tides

There were often human skirmishes, but the elves had never concerned themselves with them before. Just so long as the humans kept out of their land, and they didn’t go near Badenvaria, there had been peace.

“Because of who was attacked,” Ridge answered for Baelwyn.

Wilder rested his chin on his fist. “The humans attacked a squad of mer scouts.”

“Did any humans survive?” Oak chimed in.

He looked like a warrior, studying the battlefield the way his expression seemed to pinch.

Baelwyn shook his head, and the long white hair of his beard trembled. “You misunderstand. It was the humans who attacked the scouts. We’re not sure if there were any survivors.”

“Thehumansattacked?” Dust and Oak said in unison.

Wilder thought over the probability of that encounter.

The scouts were lethal on land and at sea. It should not have been possible for the humans to inflict any sort of damage on one, much less a whole squad.

“That’s not possible,” Oron said, mirroring Wilder’s thoughts. “No such thing has ever occurred, and surely they’re not strong or trained enough.”

Baelwyn took a sip of his tea before answering. “I would be inclined to agree with you had our own sources not confirmed it.”

Fresia was nearly in the center between the Mannereds and the Wilds, which would explain how both kingdoms had learned the news.

“Any idea why?” Ridge asked, his attention sweeping from Otto to Jordania. Both of whom had remained unusually silent during the entire meeting.

Jordania drummed her fingers in front of her, and Otto merely watched.

“Well?” Wilder prompted them again for a response.

Jordania exhaled and rubbed her eyes.

“They sought information about Lyra.”

Lyra sat beside the window in her room, watching the light dance through water.

She took another bite of a sea cucumber and wanted to vomit.

What she really wanted was some chocolate cake or a roasted turkey leg.

Her stomach grumbled, and she forced down another mouthful.

There had been commotion outside that had drawn her here hours ago, but it had since quieted down.

She glanced expectantly at the door again, waiting for Nerida. Judging by the amount of sunlight she could see from the surface, her sister should have been here already.

A wave of melancholy swept over her, and she sank deeper into the floor.

It was prison being locked in here day in and day out. But it had seemed more troublesome outside as of late with all the hate Aegir was building towards her.

There were voices outside her door, and she strained her ears to listen. It was male voices.

She sighed, figuring it was probably Fang and Angler, before the door swept open and Drystan appeared.

His golden hair floated freely around his face. With his hands on his narrow hips, his chest appeared broader, more muscular, with shadows lining beneath the taut lines of his abdominal muscles.

Lyra blinked. He had always been handsome in the way that most mermen of Ithicais were, but there was something different about him today.

It had her sitting up straighter.