ELEVEN #4
Sera leans back, composed even now, a faint smile playing at her lips. “I give her five minutes before she passes out.”
Rowena shakes her head. “Two.”
I sigh and push back from the table. “Alright, come on, menace. Time for bed.”
Lyra lets out an exaggerated groan but doesn’t argue as I hook an arm under hers and haul her to her feet. She leans heavily against me, her body warm, and I realize—she’s worse off than I thought.
“Gods, Lyra, you’re useless right now.”
“I am a lady,” she slurs. “You should carry me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Garrick would.”
“I’m not Garrick.”
Her face lights up, as if she’s just had a brilliant idea. “Use your air magics! You can float me to my bed!”
I stare at her.
“No.”
Lyra grins up at me, unfazed. “What if I say please?”
Rowena and Sera are cackling behind us, making no move to help as I half-drag Lyra toward the exit.
I pause at the doorway and glance back at them, my chest still warm—not from the wine, but from the lingering laughter, the ease, the simple joy of a night spent with new friends.
“Goodnight,” I say, offering them a small, genuine smile. “And thank you—for tonight.”
Sera raises her glass one last time. “We’ll do it again soon.”
Rowena flashes a smile. “Next time, we see if you can actually keep up with Lyra.”
I roll my eyes and adjust my grip on Lyra, who is quickly becoming more of a problem by the second.
“Why is your room so far away?” I grumble, dragging her along the hall. All the training at the outpost did not prepare me for the dead weight and chaos that is my friend right now.
Lyra, who is almost dead weight in my arms, lets out a dramatic sigh. “I like my privacy.”
“You like making me suffer.”
She lets out a breathy giggle. “That too.”
I curse under my breath as we turn another godsdamned corridor. “We have been walking forever.”
Lyra throws an arm around my shoulders, draping herself over me. “We’re on a journey, Amara. A grand adventure. You and me—traversing the castle, braving the treacherous stairs, overcoming the impossible odds—”
I cut her off. “Keep talking and I’m dropping you.”
Lyra gasp-laughs, clutching my arm. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
We make it halfway up a staircase before she stops walking altogether, forcing me to drag her up the last few steps.
“Lyra Durnhart!”
“This is where I die,” she declares. “Tell my story. Make me a legend.”
“I will throw you down these stairs.”
She cracks up, nearly taking me with her as she stumbles forward, but I catch her just in time.
And then—out of absolutely nowhere—she gasps, eyes going wide. “Oh my gods!”
I brace myself. “What now?”
Lyra grabs my face with both hands, squishing my cheeks as she forces me to look at her—far too close, far too dramatic, and very, very drunk.
“Rowena and Sera are going to be your sisters!”
I let out a long breath, trying to pry her off, but she clings.
“Lyra—”
“No, listen! This is huge!” She throws her arms wide—loses her balance—and I have to steady her before she takes both of us down. “You’re going to be family. And I love them!”
I shake my head, guiding her toward the next hallway. “Thane and I are still very new, Lyra.”
She flaps a hand at me dismissively. “Shut up! You two are soulmates!”
“That’s not how it—”
“You’re totally getting married!”
I glare at her. “Lyra.”
She nods sagely, wobbling slightly. “Amara Caelum. Ooooh, it has a nice ring to it!”
I groan, tightening my grip on her before she faceplants. “I swear to all the gods, if you don’t walk faster, I am leaving you here.”
Lyra throws herself against me in mock devastation. “You would abandon your best friend in her time of need?!”
I grumble, trying to drag her along. “Your ‘time of need’ is every time you drink.”
She gasps. “Rude. Accurate, but rude.”
“Gods, you are the most difficult drunk I’ve ever dealt with.” I try to hold onto the irritation, but a laugh slips out anyway.
Lyra grins, triumphant. “See? You love me.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “Not right now, I don’t.”
She giggles and rests her head against my shoulder as we finally—finally—reach her door.
I kick it open and half-carry, half-shove her inside. “Alright, you’re here. Now, please, for the love of all the gods, go to bed.”
Lyra collapses onto the bed, still smiling. “You’re the best, Mara.”
I start pulling off her boots. There’s no way she’s sleeping in them. “I know.”
She smiles sleepily. “No, but really. Thanks for taking care of me. Even though I’m a drunk pain in the ass right now.”
I snort, tossing her boots aside. “Right now?”
Lyra huffs a quiet laugh, her eyes already drifting closed. “Shh. Let me have this.”
I pull the blankets over her, shaking my head. “You’re going to feel terrible in the morning.”
She mumbles something incoherent, already slipping into sleep. I step back toward the door, pausing just for a moment to take in the quiet.
Tomorrow we face training and battles; a war that is creeping ever closer.
But tonight? Tonight, we were just four friends laughing over too much wine in a world that is increasingly making these moments rare.