Page 74 of In Rising Tides

It was painful, as was everything here.

She missed Daisy, her gentle touch and kind conversation. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to ease the stinging that had begun.

“There,” Lorelai said, patting Lyra’s shoulders. “All done.”

Lyra blinked and stared at the stranger in the mirror. Her hair had been fashioned into a tight and sleek bun.

The dress billowed around her, giving her a shapeless form. Without the enhancement of cosmetics, she appeared youthful and innocent.

It was the perfect disguise for the monster that writhed within her veins. She wouldn’t be a suspect in the collapse of their society if she continued to look this way.

There was a sharp knock on the door before Drystan breezed in without waiting for acceptance.

“Is she ready?”

Both mermaids dropped into very low bows.

Lyra swiveled on the stool to face him.

He was dressed rather modestly as well. A cloak made of thick turquoise covered his usually bare chest and stomach. The sleeves were tight around his broad shoulders before flaring out at his wrists. They fluttered like a waving flag as he waved off her servants.

His golden hair was perfectly styled, not moving in the slightest against the swaying current. The robe was just as long as her gown, and only the tips of his fins were visible.

Lyra tugged at the high neck of her white gown. It came up so high that it pressed the collar into her flesh.

She felt the sting of each spine as they pierced her skin. She held carefully still to keep them from digging in further.

Drystan jerked his chin, dismissing her mermaids. It wasn’t until they were well out of earshot that he addressed her. “Uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

Lyra quirked a brow. That sounded closely like criticism of the new Tidal Master’s rules.

Drystan rolled his neck and flexed his shoulders. She watched his obvious discomfort with pursed lips.

She wanted to ask him how he truly felt about all this, but with the collar still pressing its spike into her throat, she could not.

Drystan shut the door behind him and leaned his head back against it. For the first time since Lyra had known him, his composure slipped.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, and she could hear the fabric creak from the strain. The sleeves were so tight. He must be uncomfortable.

“I’m sure you have many questions,” he began.

She blinked slowly, unable to nod her head yes.

“My uprising would have faced more opposition had your father not weakened our people through religious extremism. That was how I managed to gain a foothold in the first place.”

The weight of all his responsibilities must have loosened his tongue. Lyra could think of no other reason for his being forthcoming with this information.

Lyra studied every inch of his face for any tell.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to assume you’re admiring my handsome face,” Drystan said with a smirk, his eyes roving over the length of her body.

She snarled her lips back in disgust.

Drystan swam closer to her, and she tensed, holding herself steady and not retreating.

“Don’t bite me,” he murmured as he reached to stroke her cheek.

Lyra grimaced and turned her head away from his touch.