26. Daisy
Cool air licked at her skin, and she was grateful the flames had extinguished. Lyra clenched her hands at her sides and felt the softness she had sunk into. She was lying on a bed, the softest bed she had ever felt. It made the bed at the tavern feel like a boulder.
Peeling open one eye, she was met with a stunning mural of wild, lush land and emerald trees. Tall, willowy women danced between tree trunks and orbs of golden light.
A throat cleared from beside her, and she turned to see Wilder. He had bathed, and his damp hair was brushed back, giving her a full view of the thick band of briars that wrapped from one side of his head to the other like a crown. The point of an ear peeked out behind his dark hair.
He was back in his true form. His fingers drummed upon the arms of a crimson velvet chair, and she marveled at the length of his fingers, the bulges of veins visible on his forearms. A black tunic with a standing collar enhanced the broadness of his shoulders and the length of his neck.
He was regrettably attractive and pristine.
And Lyra—she was filthy from their travels and her brush with death. She could feel the dirt clinging to the dried sweat on her face and arms. She almost cringed deeper into the bed, but didn’t want to ruin it further with her muck.
“How are you feeling?” Wilder asked.
He shifted in the chair, leaning forward, and stared at her with all the intensity of an elvish male who was used to being answered.
“Fine,” she croaked out, wetting her lips with her tongue.
Her mouth was dry like she had swallowed a handful of sand.
Wilder grasped the glass of water off the bedside table and extended it to her. Lyra watched as a droplet of condensation ran down the side of the green glass and lurched up. Taking it in both hands, she gulped it down and looked around for more.
He chuckled, standing from the chair and grabbing a pewter pitcher to pour her more.
“I’ll call up for some food. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Lyra nodded as she drained the entire glass again.
“I’ll send for the servant to draw your bath.”
Lyra’s eyes flashed with humiliation and challenge.
“Are you saying I smell?”
“Terribly so,” Wilder threw over his shoulder as he walked for the door. “Take it easy tonight. The king has requested an audience with you tomorrow.”
Lyra looked from Wilder to the window opposite her room. The thick burgundy curtains were drawn up tight, leaving her no clues about the time of day.
Wilder leaned his back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest.
“It’s just past seven in the evening. This room will be guarded day and night, so don’t even think about leaving. Bathe, eat, and then sleep. I’ll fetch you in the morning.”
He slipped out the door before she could remark about his use of the word fetch.
She flexed her toes and wiggled her fingers before ripping off the blanket and pulling up her shirt.
There was not a trace of the venom that had blackened her veins.
And her body felt strange. Lyra wasn’t sure if it was from the venom or being around elvish magic.
But she felt taller, stronger, somehow. There were no longer blisters on her feet, but her head felt foggy, as if the slumber she had awakened from did not want to release her.
Sliding out of bed, her feet landed on a plush, woven rug. It was like the mural on the ceiling, but close up, she could make out rabbits, birds, and even what she thought was a unicorn.
She glanced around the room, becoming curious. A long dresser, a tall armoire, and several doors she had no idea what could be behind. There was also a vanity placed to absorb the light that would stream through the windows if the curtains were not drawn.
Lyra headed that way first, hoping to glean some kind of inkling of where her room was. But as she made her way across the room on sure feet, a key slid into the lock and her door opened.
She rolled her eyes.
A tiny elf female with daisies in her periwinkle hair stood with an armload of fabrics. The female beamed at her, and the kindness in her smile had Lyra narrowing her eyes.
“My name is Daisy, and I’m here to tend to you, my lady. I’ll draw you a bath first, and then we can go through these dresses.”
She had never had anyone attend to her before, and she had preferred the movement the pants afforded. “I don’t require your assistance. You may leave.”
Daisy pursed her lips and gave a slight shake of her head. “I am under orders from the king.”
Lyra placed her hands on her hips. “It is unnecessary.” She hadn’t expected a servant to argue.
“I’m sure where you came from it is. But here it is a requirement. Now—if that is all. How do you like your water?” Daisy dropped the pile of fabrics on the bed and then shuffled to the bathing room.
Lyra stared in shock before gathering her wits and following Daisy. She hadn’t been rude, but she had handled Lyra with a firm hand. Lyra respected that.
Leaning against the doorway, she watched as Daisy turned a copper handle. Water started pouring from a pipe beside a large tub. Lyra leapt from the door to study the contraption.
“There’s water behind the walls?”
Daisy straightened and took a step back. The action had Lyra’s excitement sputtering out. She had frightened the poor girl.
“S-sorry, my lady,” Daisy muttered.
“No, that’s alright. You should be afraid. You don’t know me or my intentions. I like my water hot—scorching even,” Lyra replied before taking a step towards the mirror across the bathing chamber to give Daisy room to work.
It was a beautiful room. There was a worktop below the mirror with two of those copper things that Daisy had used to turn on the water.
Lyra found herself curious and turned the knob.
Water began pouring from the copper again.
She stuck her fingers beneath the stream and smiled to herself.
Now this was magic. Her movement caught her attention, and she looked at her reflection.
It was frightening. Dark shadows bloomed beneath her eyes, and her pale skin looked horrifying, like all the life had been drained from her. Streaks of auburn hair stuck to her forehead, and matted waves hung limply down her chest. She didn’t look like a princess anymore.
A heavenly scent wafted from the steam rising behind her, and she turned to find Daisy pouring an array of vials into the tub. It seemed to be quite a lot of work to draw her a bath. Lyra found herself hoping that was common and not extra effort because of her current appearance.
“What is that?” she asked, watching as Daisy spooned something granular into the water.
“This is mineral salts,” she looked over at Lyra, “it’s good for sore muscles and weary bones after traveling.”
“And what was that other stuff?” Lyra gestured to the array of vials near the tub.
“A variety of oils. Eucalyptus for energy, almond oil for dryness, and argan.”
“What’s the argan for?” Lyra asked when Daisy didn’t provide an explanation.
“It’s to help with your hair. It’s quite matted, my lady.”
Lyra appreciated her honesty and directness, even if her delivery was timid. The water filled the tub nearly to the rim before Daisy shut it off.
“I can step outside—” Daisy began.
Lyra had shucked her shirt and was pulling a pant leg off. There was an eagerness in her to return to the water that she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t that the water smelled amazing, but the grime of the last week clung to Lyra like a bad dream she could awaken from if she could only wash it off.
She moaned with ecstasy as she slipped one foot into the hot water. It was divine. Lyra sank deeper into the tub and could feel the anxiety and stress melting away.
When she dunked her head under the surface, she contemplated staying there forever. It was home, the water and her soul belonged to it.
Panic tightened her chest as fear gripped her; she could never go back. Lyra lurched out of the water, spluttering.
“Are you alright?” Daisy squeaked out, reaching for a towel and dabbing Lyra’s face.
“I can’t breathe underwater.”
“Blessed three, no! You’re not a mermaid anymore.”
It didn’t matter how kindly Daisy had said the words. Hearing them out loud was excruciating. A silent tear rolled down Lyra’s cheek before dropping into the water. Her tears could return, but she could not.
She didn’t want to cry.
If only part of her could return—then none of her could.
Daisy reached towards Lyra and then paused.
“Is it alright if I wash your hair?”
Lyra’s brow raised as if tugged by an invisible string. Wasn’t that her job? Why was she asking …
Wilder.
He must have told Daisy that Lyra didn’t like to be touched. She wanted to roll her eyes. It was fine if others had touched her, just not him.
Lyra jerked her chin down, and Daisy proceeded.
Daisy was a goddess. Her fingers on Lyra’s scalp were the closest to joy she had ever felt. It was so utterly delightful, Lyra closed her eyes.
“What is that song?” Daisy asked, her hands pausing.
Gods. Lyra had hummed and hadn’t even realized it.
“A song from Atlantis,” Lyra murmured. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, my lady. It was beautiful.”
Lyra’s cheeks burned. Everyone was so nice here—it was throwing her off-kilter.
“Daisy,” Lyra began.
“Hmm?”
“What does ‘blessed three’ mean?”
Lyra blinked her eyes open to see a small smile lighting Daisy’s face. “It’s just an exclamation. The blessed three are the goddesses Aradia, Tiandra, and Mab.”
“Oh, I see. And that’s something elves say?”
Daisy nodded and proceeded to scrub the entirety of Lyra’s skin and hair, not once, but twice, and then had Lyra stand. Water ran in rivulets down her body, and she marveled at the beauty of her skin now. A healthy flush and glow of vitality.
A small part of her had come back to life. But water had a way of doing that. Whether it was nourishing you from the inside out, the body always craved it.
Daisy held open a large white fabric and gestured for Lyra to step closer. When Lyra did, Daisy enveloped her in the fabric and gave her a gentle squeeze. She then stepped back and patted Lyra’s body down before squeezing the excess water out of her hair with it.
“What is that?”
“It’s a towel,” Daisy replied, continuing to squeeze Lyra’s hair.
If Daisy was annoyed with the multitude of Lyra’s questions, she didn’t let on. And Lyra found herself relieved. She didn’t enjoy asking, but her curiosity rarely cared how she truly felt.
“And it dries off water?”
“Mmm, not all of it, but most of it.” Daisy grabbed a dress, but this one was open completely in the front. “This is a robe,” she murmured and then slipped it on Lyra before tying it around her so that it wasn’t open any longer.
The fabric was soft against her skin, and the green of it matched her eyes. There was intricate stitching up the sleeves and shoulders of it.
“What is this fabric?”
“It’s silk. Do you like it?” Daisy asked, stepping back and looking at Lyra.
“It’s incredible,” she breathed.
“I made it.” Daisy beamed with pride. “That will help us narrow down the dresses you like. Follow me,” she instructed as she strutted back into the bedroom.
Feeling revitalized, Lyra bounced as she walked back into her bedroom. The dresses were piled in a heap on the bed, and Daisy grabbed the first one. It was the same silk fabric as the robe, but in a cheery yellow color. Lyra shook her head.
“No?” Daisy asked, looking from Lyra to the dress.
“Yellow isn’t my color,” Lyra answered.
“My lady, every color is your color.”
Lyra blushed again but shook her head.
Daisy held up the next dress. It was garish. Large skirts and jewel-toned beads on the neckline.
Lyra shook her head again, and Daisy sighed. The next dress she held up was a grayish-blue silk gown with a low-cut neckline and a straight skirt. It resembled a flower petal.
“Yes,” Lyra breathed and stepped closer to run her fingers down the length of the gown.
“It is quite beautiful,” Daisy murmured. She didn’t move to set it down but rather stood there patiently and let Lyra admire it.
“You can show me the next one now, Daisy,” Lyra said as she stopped stroking the gown.
The next was a similar cut to the last but had dainty straps and was in the same color as a fruit she had read about. She couldn’t quite remember the name, and she racked her brain, searching for it.
“What is this color?”
“Plum.”
Lyra nodded. “Plum. I like this one, too.”
When she yawned and covered her mouth, Daisy smiled at her.
“We don’t have to go through the rest. I have an inkling of what you like now.”
Lyra cocked her head, looking at the pile of dresses they had yet to go through.
“And what inkling is that?”
Daisy grinned and set the plum dress down. “You like things dark—that feel like the water.”
Lyra snorted. Daisy had no idea how right she was.
“I’ll ring for your food and bid you farewell, my lady. If you need anything else at all, pull that chain to the right of the door.”
Lyra watched as Daisy hung up several gowns in the armoire before hefting colorful ones over her shoulder and leaving.
Pressing a hand to her stomach, Lyra felt hollow, but it wasn’t from hunger.