21. Scout | Lyra #3
“How dare?—”
“Lyra is right,” Caspian said, cutting off Lir from what was sure to be an incredibly long and pointless tirade. “It should be impossible that twelve return every single time. There should be some variability. Which is why we began researching the Tithe.”
Adamaris crossed his arms over his chest. “Were you able to find anything else out?”
Caspian shook his head. “Our shelves were surprisingly empty when it came to information on rituals. Would there be anything in Zeal?”
Adamaris shrugged. “Perhaps. I will look into it, but there are more libraries in Naguni.”
Ishmael crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “I will look, too.”
“We couldn’t even find its origin,” Caspian muttered. There was a dull sort of sadness in his expression.
Lyra inhaled sharply through her nose.
If they only knew.
Drystan floated from side to side. His long, powerful tail swished softly in the current. He stroked a hand across his jaw. “Say Lyra is right—and the Tithe is a bargain. The humans wouldn’t have agreed to it without receiving something beneficial in return.”
Lir choked. “You can’t possibly be entertaining this! We have a witness that she entered into a bargain with the High King. We should be parading her head through the streets. This is treason!”
Lyra flinched at the graphic description.
But Drystan’s body went still. He looked like the tightening of a rope on the verge of fraying.
“What did you just say?”
Lir didn’t back down. “Never in the history of our world has a mermaid made a bargain with an elf! It can’t be allowed now.”
The room was utterly still. Even the current seemed to surrender to the wrath swirling from Drystan.
“You so much as move in her direction,” Drystan said, pointing at Lyra. “And I will rip your heart from your chest.”
“Your Majesty,” Caius said quickly, his eyes volleying between Drystan and Lir. The distance was closing swiftly. “Violence is forbidden in this chamber.”
Now. The voice in the back of Lyra’s mind whispered.
It sounded strangely feminine.
Do it now.
I can’t, Lyra argued with the voice.
If she were to show her magic now, the rapidly fraying alliance in this room would splinter.
But if Drystan attacked Lir, there would be no one to keep her from being executed.
Do it, the voice hissed.
I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing.
Gently.
Lyra felt her world tilt. It would be so easy to get them to believe her, to get them to help her complete this bargain. And once completed, she could go home.
But magic has a balance.
Lyra’s eyes slid closed. She would pay it, this toll that magic would demand for her using it, if only it brought her one step closer to Wilder.
With her eyes still closed, her hands raised to her sides.
“Lyra—” Drystan’s voice was a thunderclap. “Lyra, no!”
She reached for the thread around her heart, fingertips grazing the silken thread, and pulled.
“You will listen,” the words spilled from her lips like droplets of gold. The water froze. She didn’t dare open her eyes to see their faces, to see the horror of what she was doing. “You will believe the truths I tell you.”
Her brow furrowed before she opened her eyes.
There wasn’t shock or disgust, only bewilderment.
Drystan’s head was bowed, his hands clutching his chest.
“You shouldn’t have?—”
Lyra searched his face for the condemnation she expected to see. “I had no other choice.”
Caspian was the first of the princes to speak.
He spoke slowly, as if he were trying to choose his words carefully.
“That is why the High King made a bargain with her.”
“It’s a wonder he even let her leave his shores to begin with,” Adamaris said with a shake of his head. His hand trembled slightly as he raked a hand through his hair.
Rigel, Ishmael, and Hadrian just stared.
She could tell it would take a minute to process.
Lir and Caius, however, were appalled.
It was hard to see their faces clearly, as her vision had darkened at the edges. In fact, the euphoria that usually coursed through her veins was nowhere to be found.
In its place was a crippling nothingness. Lyra rubbed at her temples, hoping to ease some of the numbness she felt spreading behind her eyes.
“It’s atrocious,” Caius said, clutching his chest. “I don’t want to believe her—but I know it’s the truth.”
“We’ll only believe what is true,” Drystan said. “Her words were chosen very carefully.”
Lir scowled. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it once Drystan fixed him in his sights.
Lyra’s stomach churned like a choppy sea, and she held her stomach.
“Drystan …” Her voice cracked, and she licked her lips.
He was at her side in an instant.
His fingertips grazed her flesh, and it felt like he was skinning her alive.
Lyra winced. “Something is wrong.”
Her skin flushed hot and cold despite the steady temperature of the room.
The sea was too loud.
The current was practically a gale-force wind, with the way it sounded in her ears and the way she felt it throwing her body around.
“Lyra,” he called her name, but it sounded muffled, as if he had spoken to her from above the surface. “Lyra!”
Blackness swallowed her sight, turning her tongue to stone.
She couldn’t see, couldn’t move.
But she felt him wrap her in his arms, and she relaxed knowing he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
His chest vibrated against her cheek as he spoke.
“We need a healer—now.”