34. Teeth
He had been kind, in a strange, domineering kind of way. Lyra didn’t know what to make of it. He pushed her to strengthen her not only mentally, but also physically.
No one had ever tried to make her better. Not even the teachers who instructed her growing up. Every lesson was wrought with feminine fragility or the repetitive rhetoric that knowledge was wasted on her.
It was exhausting constantly trying to prove her worth, so she eventually stopped and became the helpless, useless mermaid they always said she was. But with a dash of violence. Because sometimes you just need to remind them you have teeth.
Wilder knew she had teeth, and he was trying to sharpen them.
Each step was agonizing, a ripping and burning lashing up her thighs and down her calves. The sound of clashing swords and grunts grew louder than her heaving breaths.
Lyra stared in awe as Maelys sparred with Ridge. She moved like light through the water, quickly and with a twinkling rhythm. It was beautiful.
“How?” Lyra breathed.
Wilder followed her line of sight and smirked.
“Years and years of training.”
She would never be that good or powerful. Not even if she had a lifetime of training.
“I could never.”
Wilder was gruff with his answer. “You will.”
Lyra glanced sidelong at him. There was a stiff sort of resolution to his jaw, and a line was carved between his brows. He really thought he could make her into something like that. He believed she was capable.
What a strange place this was. A king who took advice from his queen, and females as warriors.
The table still felt far away, even after a few more struggling steps. And Lyra swallowed down a cry.
“It’ll be dinner by the time we make it there,” Wilder said under his breath.
“You weren’t training this hard as a newborn,” Lyra snapped back. “I’m essentially a week old.”
He reeled back at her words and then shook his head. In one swift motion, he had thrown her over his shoulder and strode towards the table.
“We carry our babies here.”
Lyra snorted, and the power within her gleamed.
It was dull because of her exhaustion, but his humor had surprised her.
She cringed away from it. This hadn’t happened so often before.
She could count on one hand the number of times her power had flared before she came to land, and now it happened twice.
Wilder placed her on her feet and held onto her elbow, ensuring she wouldn’t crumple to the ground. He placed water in one of her hands and an apple in the other.
“Drink and eat. Then we need to approach your magic,” he said.
Lyra stared at the food and drink in her hand. He had no idea how disappointed he was about to become. She wasn’t ready to touch her magic, but he didn’t have to know that.
She nodded and sipped at her water before biting into the apple. It was delicious. Juice dribbled down her chin, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand.
“I need to make sure Otto and the guards are ready. I’ll be right back,” Wilder said as he walked away.
His footsteps were silent on the dirt, and the blood pounding in her ears muted any other noise. He walked with all the grace and menace of a great white shark. He was fearsome. It had her steeling her spine.
Wilder approached Otto, who was locked in a battle between two guards who looked related—but not.
Lyra watched as Wilder halted beside them, and they paused. The guards bowed and left, but Otto grinned at Wilder and inclined his head.
She was too far away to hear their exchange, but Wilder drew the sword at his side and braced his feet. The sword wasn’t ostentatious, but there was an indescribable glimmer of power that radiated from the blade—or maybe it was just the male who held it.
Lyra mimicked his stance and felt steadier on her feet. She had not known the power of a good stance. Wilder leveled his sword at Otto, and he did the same. They circled each other, and Lyra found her heart racing again.
The clash of their swords rang through the air, and she gasped. So much power was behind each of Wilder’s blows. If this was him sparring, she couldn’t imagine him in an actual battle. No wonder those mortals hadn’t stood a chance.
Otto blocked each of his advances, but a split second too slow. It was as if his visions weren’t coming as fast as Wilder’s thoughts. It was beautiful, like a dance. She longed to learn the footwork. But as soon as she thought it—it was over.
Otto stood weaponless, and Wilder held both swords. She gaped like a fish, not seeing how he had done it. He tossed Otto his sword back and then gestured for him and the guards to follow.
Lyra watched as they approached her. A small voice inside her whispered to grab her thread of magic to show these males what she was truly capable of. She slammed the door on it.
It didn’t matter what they thought of her. It would kill her to use it. Take all that she was and could be and turn it to ash.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t touch it.
It all became too much. The sun on her skin, the heat, the burning in her overused muscles. As if sensing her dread, Wilder stopped in front of her.
“We’re just going to work on feeling the power inside of you. Where it is, what it feels like. I don’t anticipate you wielding today.”
She swallowed and nodded. Her eyes burned, and she blinked it away.
“She won’t,” Otto said.
Wilder shifted his gaze from her to Otto. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
When he looked back at her, she could feel the weight of disappointment in his steady gaze.
“I’m just asking you to try.”
Lyra bit her tongue and glared at him, using her anger as a shield so that he wouldn’t see her fear. She didn’t answer, and she didn’t think he ever would.
She closed her eyes, feigning effort, and opened her hands palm up to the sky. But she didn’t reach for her power, that golden thread that seemed thicker now around her heart. Nope, she stood there. Faking.
When she blew out a forced breath and opened her eyes to a glowering Wilder, she pressed her lips into a thin line.
“I tried,” she shrugged.
He worked his jaw side to side.
“That’s fine. We only have tomorrow and the day after, and the day after …”
Her chest ached. She felt lost—scared, even. One time, she had plucked that thread.
She could still feel him pawing at her, and then nothing. It had felt like eternal darkness, and then she was in the sea witch’s cave.
This was going to be different. At least, she hoped it would be. But she still couldn’t see past the fear.
Daisy was the nicest creature in the entire world as she helped tug Lyra’s shirt over her head. It had also taken Lyra sitting on the floor for Daisy to pull her boots and pants off. And then the darling girl helped ease her into the tub.
It was an abundance of kindness and care, and the moment Lyra slipped into that blissfully warm and heavenly-scented water, tears burned her eyes.
She had watched Daisy meticulously dole out the oils and the bath salts. It seemed ridiculous the effort that went into a bath. But the moment the ache and burn in her muscles evaporated, she realized it had all been well worth it.
There was a light clattering of doors shutting and fabric rustling. She leaned her head against the copper tub and closed her eyes, breathing in the heavenly aroma of the oils.
“Do you have a preference for this evening?” Daisy called through the closed door.
“This evening?” Lyra asked, sinking deeper into the water.
“Your dinner with the king and queen.”
Lyra’s eyes flashed open, and water splashed over the rim of the tub as she jolted up. No one had told her that. She hated the very idea of it. What would she even say to them?
“’Tis a great honor, my lady.”
Lyra snorted. “I’m their captive. I fail to see the honor in that.”
It was silent for a heartbeat. “Well, when you put it that way,” Daisy chuckled. “The navy gown would be stunning with your complexion.”
Lyra sighed. It didn’t matter; none of it mattered. Scooping up a handful of water, she watched it ripple in her palm. She missed the sea. Missed Seraphina and Marina, if she was being honest. She was accustomed to their curtness, not this kindliness.
But she would need to break the bargain between humans and merfolk if she ever wanted to see her home again. Which meant using her magic. Her throat burned.
“You’ll prune if you stay in there any longer,” Daisy chided.
Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she sank beneath the water, not hearing anything anymore.
Daisy wasn’t having any of that. A splash in the water had Lyra opening her eyes. The oils and salts burned, but she could still make out Daisy’s annoyed expression.
When her lungs screamed from the lack of oxygen, she breached the surface, wiping the water from her eyes.
“Out you get. I still have much to do with your hair and trying to hide the burn on your cheeks and forehead,” Daisy sighed. “Beautiful ivory skin fried like bacon.”
She held a towel out, averting her eyes as Lyra rose from the water and stepped out. Daisy wrapped it around her, and she felt the strange strains of comfort.
Daisy truly was a soft-hearted soul. After she dried off and donned her robe, Lyra followed her to the vanity and plopped onto the velvet stool. It took her a moment to realize how easily she had walked across the room with the absence of pain. Those oils and salts were magic.
In her absence, Daisy had pulled open the curtains and laid a navy blue gown on her bed. Golden sunlight streamed through the open curtains, setting the room ablaze.
Lyra studied herself in the mirror. There was a flush to her cheeks and forehead, a new splattering of freckles across her nose. But there was a sharpness in her eyes. Being challenged all day by Wilder had awoken something in her she long thought dead.
Daisy hummed to herself as she worked. Strands of Lyra’s auburn hair were pinned in an elaborate updo.
“Daisy, have you worked in the castle long?” Lyra attempted conversation.
“Since I was a child.”
“And do you like it?”
Daisy smiled and nodded. “Very much so.”
Lyra sat still and quiet, watching Daisy work. She smiled to herself, like she really did enjoy her work.
“Do you have any family?”
She met Daisy’s eyes in the mirror and saw them sparkle.
“I have two younger sisters.”
“Oh.”
“How about you?”
Lyra shifted in her chair. “I have six older sisters.”
“Blessed three! Such a big lot. Are you close?”
It was an effort for Lyra not to grimace. “Not really. They’re much older than me and all married and gone.”
Daisy frowned. “How terrible. I couldn’t imagine not having my sisters. They’re my best friends.”
Lyra flinched at a pin Daisy placed, and she froze.
“Oh! I’m so sorry! Let me fix that.” Daisy pulled the pin out and placed it back in her hair, but at a different angle. It was painless.
Lyra touched where the pin was and didn’t feel the sharp stabbing sensation she had felt every day of her life in Atlantis.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Daisy chuckled and resumed working. “It’s not supposed to.”
Lyra’s mouth dropped open, and she sucked a sharp breath in through her teeth. Years and years of unnecessary pain. For what reason?
She wanted to rage, to scream to the gods. But what use would that do?
They had allowed this, after all.
Daisy turned Lyra so that she no longer could see her reflection as she dabbed something on her face.
“What is that?” Lyra asked when a cloud of it wafted up from her face.
“Makeup,” Daisy replied.
“What does it do?”
“It enhances.”
Lyra frowned and Daisy tutted. “Stop it, you’ll crease.”
Relaxing her face, Lyra closed her eyes and absorbed the gentleness in Daisy’s touch. It was nice to be touched without pain.
“There. Beautiful as ever,” Daisy said, spinning her back towards the mirror.
A princess stared back. It was still her. The emerald eyes and sharp cheekbones, but she looked softer somehow.
She pressed a hand to her cheek to make sure it was still her.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
Daisy smiled and patted her shoulder.
“Let me help you into the gown. There are ties at the back.”
Lyra rose from the vanity, untying her robe and letting it drop at her feet. Daisy held the gown open, and she stepped into it, feeling the buttery softness of the silk.
This one was as stunning as the last one. It was strapless, and the ties at the back cinched tight, showcasing her narrow waist. Patting the fabric around her waist, she breathed and found she could do so normally. Not at all restrained, as she had been in the navy gown in the mortal realm.
Daisy set a pair of embroidered slippers in front of her. They were the same shade of navy as the gown, but there were swirls of stars in gold and silver. The tiny heel raised her without making her unsteady. She felt as if they had been crafted for her.
“I don’t have any jewelry for you, I’m afraid,” Daisy mumbled.
Lyra turned the sapphire shell necklace that never left her throat.
“That’s alright. The dress is stunning enough,” Lyra replied.
“The dress would be just fabric without you.”
Lyra couldn’t help the smile that stretched across her face. Her gratitude was cut off by pounding on the door.
“That will be your escort,” Daisy said.
Her periwinkle hair shimmered in the dwindling light as she hustled to the door and swung it open. She collapsed into a bow. “Your Highness.”
Lyra rolled her eyes; she couldn’t imagine bowing and scraping to him.
“Is she ready?” His tone wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t nice either.
She stalked to the door, coming up behind Daisy and resting her hands on her hips.
“How about a ‘Hello, Daisy’?”
Wilder stood frozen, staring at her. His gaze grazed along her exposed collarbones and the low-cut neckline of her gown before meeting her eyes again. She felt naked under his inspection. And she wasn’t the only one.
Daisy cleared her throat. “She is, Your Highness. Do you find her acceptable for dinner with the king and queen?”
Wilder hadn’t stopped staring at Lyra. “Very acceptable.”
He cleared his throat and took a step back, allowing Lyra to pass through the threshold.
“Great work, Daisy. You’ve achieved the impossible.”
Lyra froze and glared at him, but Daisy beamed at his compliment.
“The impossible? And what would that be?” Lyra hissed, stepping close to him.
“Making you look anything but monstrous,” he whispered into her ear.
He didn’t know how right he was.
Although he hadn’t meant it as a compliment to her, she appreciated it all the same. Especially, having been pampered and doted on by Daisy—she was still a creature of the sea.
“And don’t you forget it, Princeling.”