18. Drowned the Whole World
Lyra woke to the clomping of hooves against stone and the warmth of a body against her face. She flinched, and the hands around her tightened their grip.
“Easy,” Wilder grumbled. “You’ll tumble off the horse, and then I’ll be forced to retrieve you.”
Her hips ached, and her feet were numb. They dangled over the side of the horse, and she flexed her toes in her boots. At least it wasn’t painful any longer.
Lyra glanced around at the path they were on. The trees were farther apart, but vast. This was a much older wood. It felt ancient, like the names of the plants and animals had come from a dialect no one spoke anymore.
“Where are we?”
She gazed up at Wilder, and she was stunned by the sheer beauty of him. His dark hair waved in the wind, and there was a sharpness to his gaze.
His lips moved then, but she was so caught in his snare that she didn’t hear the words.
Releasing the reins, he flicked her forehead, and her mouth dropped open in shock. It didn’t hurt, but it was humiliating.
“Did you hear me, Legs?”
“How dare you?” she seethed.
Her eyes narrowed on his exposed throat. She should rip it out for that offense. As if sensing her desire, he tilted his chin down.
“Maybe you should listen to the answer to the question you just asked,” he said with a quiet calmness.
The fire within her raged. He was a stupid, abrasive elvish male. And she wanted to kill him.
She squirmed to get away from him. To put some distance between their touching bodies before she did kill him. But his grip on her tightened as he slowed the horse down.
“Oh no, you don’t. You are staying on this horse. We have to get to the Wilds as soon as possible.”
Lyra glared at him as her chest heaved.
“Whatever happened to making me walk on my own two feet?”
She was annoyed.
He couldn’t make up his mind. It was like whiplash. He refused to carry her, and then he did. She must walk on her own, and then he’s carrying her again.
Every one of his threats had been ignored, not by her—but by him.
“That was before. We’re being followed still, and we’re getting closer to the Three Sisters.”
Lyra shivered.
A light mist grew around them, shrouding the forest in a breathing cloak. It made the emerging trees look haunting. At any moment, they could tug the cloak tighter around themselves and set off for the hills.
Lyra didn’t like it, but she didn’t hate it either. There was a sentience in this wood, but she hadn’t figured out if it was kind yet.
When she began squeezing her legs, Wilder looked down at her.
“Do they hurt?” His voice was quiet, almost sincere.
“They’re numb. C-could we perhaps halt for a moment so that I could stretch?”
“Will your feet be okay?”
Lyra shrugged and nibbled on her bottom lip.
Wilder nodded. “Make it quick.”
He stopped their horse, and the rest of the group stopped alongside them.
Lyra bent at the waist to touch her toes before squatting down. She rubbed at her thighs and then her calves, trying to effuse warmth and blood back into them.
Maelys stared on with a curious expression. Otto monitored the wood, and Ridge peeled an apple with his dagger. The skin twisted around in a single peel.
“Here.” Ridge tossed her the apple, and she fumbled it, but did not drop it.
“Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at him with a small grin.
Wilder watched the entire exchange with a passive expression plastered on his face. He didn’t seem to like it when the others spoke to her or were accommodating.
Lyra kept her eyes on Wilder as she bit down on the apple. She moaned at the delectable crisp flavor that hit her tongue, and he blanched.
“Get on the fucking horse,” he growled.
She smiled sweetly at him, having gotten under his skin so swiftly, and held up her hand.
In one swift movement, he pulled her onto the horse. Not side saddle this time, though.
No, her legs straddled the wide beast, and she clenched her jaw at the sheer awkwardness of it.
Lyra missed her tail and the weightlessness of the water. The mists were a close second and a brief reprieve from the dryness of the air.
The thoughts she had long held at bay broke through, and her heart sank. She would never swim below the depths again. That world had been snatched from her.
Lyra didn’t think she would miss it this much. She had nothing waiting for her back home but misery. Yet now, she didn’t have a place to belong to.
Her head dropped between her shoulders, and she bit her lip as Wilder urged the horse on.
She was miserable.
And it was as if the world could feel her pain.
It started raining then, pouring as if all the water in the world had been held aloft and then dropped.
It soaked her to the bone, reminding her of all that she had lost. She closed her eyes as tears and rain streaked down her face.
“Gods dammit,” Wilder grumbled.
That was at least a small silver lining. He was going to be as miserable as she was now.
Lyra let her anguish swallow her whole.
It rained all day and all night. Her hair was soaked through, and the thick auburn mass dripped down and splattered against her soaked pants.
It was unbelievably miserable, but still not even a fraction of what she felt writhing within her chest.