38. Girl Friends
Lyra rose with the birds chirruping outside her bedroom window. She had slept peacefully. Stretching her arms out wide, her fingers grazed the teacup on her bedside table, and with a little nudge—she knocked it to the floor.
It shattered.
The sound echoed through the room.
Her bedroom door flew open, and two armed guards shoved into her room, swords drawn.
Covering her mouth with her hand, she pulled the sheets up to her chest.
“Excuse you!”
The blonde guard had the decency to look apologetic, but his dark-haired companion did not.
“Heart-eating siren,” he hissed.
She would have been offended if it weren’t so godsdamned funny.
“Cyrus,” Blondie whispered. “Watch your tongue.”
The mouthy, dark-haired one, Cyrus, glared at Lyra and stalked out of her room.
“My apologies, my lady. I will send someone to clean that up,” Blondie said before pulling her door closed.
Interesting, so they would rush in here the mere moment they assumed she was trying to escape. She wouldn’t be able to unless she did it very, very quietly.
A light knock on the door pulled her from her plans of escape.
“Your Highness,” Daisy trilled through the door.
“Come in!”
Daisy pushed open the door. Her periwinkle hair was braided up into a crown, with tiny chamomile flowers placed throughout.
“I love your hair,” Lyra gushed and then froze. Where in the world had that come from?
Daisy paused, patting her hair and then smiling. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
She walked closer and saw the shattered teacup. Lyra feigned distress.
“I’m so sorry. I was stretching, and it was an accident.”
It wasn’t a lie, but all the best lies were like that. A bit of truth wrapped in.
“Not to worry. I’ll have this squared away in no time. In the meantime, I’ll draw you a bath.”
“Oh, I can do that myself,” Lyra offered, sliding out of the other side of the bed. She had watched Daisy do it enough times that she thought she could manage.
“Oh no, that is most ill-mannered. A lady never draws her bath.”
And with that, Daisy scurried into the bathing chamber and got to work. Lyra walked with a sluggish gait and yawned and stretched.
By the time she had reached the bath, Daisy had already doled out the salts and was adding the oils to the steaming tub.
“What did you do?” Lyra asked, wondering what luxurious oils were added this time.
“Excuse me?” Daisy spluttered, whirling around. Her face pinched, wrinkles marched across her brows, and her lips were drawn so thin they were practically gone.
“Which oils did you use this time? It smells lovely—but different.”
Daisy’s pinched face relaxed. “I used citrus and yarrow. To help with your energy and pain.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I’ll clean up the cup and set out your training clothes for today.” Daisy strode with haste out of the bathing room.
Standing there alone, Lyra gazed around the room. The little voice inside her whispered that something wasn’t right. She sniffed at the oils. Nothing about them smelled unusual or dangerous. And she didn’t peg Daisy as an assassin. She dipped her fingertips into the warm water and closed her eyes.
What was she searching for?
But when there was no burning or dissolving of her flesh, she shrugged the encounter off to Daisy being nervous around her still.
Lyra shrugged out of her nightclothes and slipped into the water. It was still comforting after so much time on land to submerge herself in its weightlessness. She closed her eyes and imagined herself floating through the current, twirling through kelp forests, and near the reef.
It was splendid with its magical colors and plethora of life. That was the only part of the ocean that wasn’t dark or twisted. Then again, she liked that part, too.
She was dark and twisted.
Once she was wrinkled, an aspect of this body she detested, she rose from the bath. But there wasn’t a towel in sight.
“Daisy,” she called.
“Yes, my lady?”
“There’s no towel.”
Daisy burst through the door.
“Oh goodness me! I’m so sorry!”
She was as flustered now as she had been when she left. The cabinet beside the tub held stacks of fluffy white towels, and Daisy pulled one out and shook it open.
Lyra stepped into the open towel, wrapping it around her.
“Are you alright?” Lyra asked, noting the pink hue to Daisy’s cheeks and her widened eyes.
“I-I am, my lady. Thank you for asking,” she stuttered out.
Lyra nodded, but didn’t believe that answer at all. That was fine, though. It wasn’t as if they were friends who confided in each other.
Soft chocolate-brown leather pants, a gauzy bell-sleeved blouse, and a strange, thick band of leather waited for Lyra on her bed. It was similar, but different from what she wore for training yesterday. An assortment of leather straps lay in a heap by the thick band.
“What is all this?”
Daisy looked at the pile.
“It’s your new training clothes.” She pointed to the thick band. “That goes around your waist to protect you. And those go around your wrists and forearms.”
Lyra scrunched her nose. So many constraining items.
But Daisy didn’t wait for a response. Holding up the pants, Lyra stepped in. The inside of them felt strange, cool, and soft.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
Daisy chuckled. “I know it feels strange. It wicks the moisture away from your skin when you sweat.”
Lyra marveled at the magic. She was trying to respect Daisy’s level of modesty, but once the pants were up around her waist, she dropped the towel and stood topless. This time, Daisy didn’t seem bothered as she tied the straps on the side of Lyra’s hips.
When Lyra had shifted so that Daisy could see better, the scars on the inside of her arms became visible, as did the strange circular-shaped one below her left breast.
“My heavens,” Daisy whispered. “What happened?”
The question surprised them both, and Daisy covered her mouth with a hand and took a step back.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Lyra shook her head. The question wasn’t offensive. But she couldn’t imagine why Daisy would care.
“The arms? My fiancée gave them to me,” Lyra replied, tucking an arm over her breast to hide the scar there.
“That sounds dreadful,” Daisy whispered, clutching the neckline of her ruffled dress.
Lyra snorted. “He is.”
Daisy’s eyes grew wide, and then she burst into laughter. Lyra watched as the girl now clutched at her stomach and wiped tears from her eyes. It surprised her how much joy it brought to make Daisy laugh.
“That was marvelous, my lady.”
Lyra nodded. “I’m glad. You need not be afraid of me.”
Daisy’s mouth dropped open and she spluttered, “I-I’m not. Why would you think that?”
“You seem flustered around me today.”
Daisy grabbed the linen shirt off the bed, but twisted it between her fingers. “It’s not you, my lady.”
Lyra stared long and hard at Daisy. “Then who?”
“I shouldn’t say.”
Pulling the shirt over her head, Lyra tried to read Daisy’s body language. She had trembling hands, and her eyes kept darting to the bedroom door.
“Daisy—who?”
The young servant looked traumatized. With a heavy sigh, her head drooped between her shoulders. “It’s the guard—Cyrus.”
Lyra’s blood ran cold. She had thought there was something off about that male.
“What has he done?”
Daisy shook her head. “No, he just, well, he leers. It’s repugnant.”
Lyra nodded. “If he ever does anything. And I mean anything—you let me know.” There was enough malice in her words that Daisy’s eyes bulged before her lips spread into a grateful smile.
“Thank you.”
Lyra grinned wickedly. She felt a kinship with Daisy. The young servant was kind and deserved only good things. If Cyrus ever did anything wrong, he would meet Lyra’s monster.
Daisy wrapped the leather around Lyra’s waist and cinched it tight. It didn’t make breathing difficult, but she could tell how it would protect her from a blow. The wrist guards went on next, and they made the sleeves of her blouse look like bells. It was feminine—but fierce.
“I like this,” Lyra murmured.
“You look like a warrior.”
Lyra couldn’t explain how that made her feel. But it made her breathing easier and her shoulders square. Was it pride?
Right after Daisy had finished braiding her hair out of her face and into a coronet, there was a knock on the door. It seemed light compared to Wilder’s pounding.
“Lyra,” Maelys called. “Are you ready?”
Daisy and Lyra shared a look. Wilder was her escort and mentor for training.
“Yes. I’ll be right out,” Lyra replied.
Daisy smeared some kind of clear jelly on Lyra’s face and rubbed it in. It was cool and smelled light and earthy.
“What’s that?”
“It’s to protect your skin from the sun. You’ve already had several freckles bloom, and your forehead is still burned.”
Lyra raised her brow and found that the skin didn’t pull as tight as it had this morning, which was a relief. And she despised the brown spots that had appeared on her skin of late.
“Thank you.”
Daisy patted her shoulders. “Off you get! Have a lovely training.”
Lyra grimaced and reached for the door before stopping and turning back to Daisy.
“I hope—I hope you have a wonderful day.”
Daisy blushed and then nodded. “You as well, Your Highness.”
Maelys was wearing the same training attire as Lyra, but her blouse was burgundy, which looked lovely against her golden brown hair.
It was pulled up into a high ponytail, but the ends were braided.
Ivy and heather woven into each plait made her resemble a forest nymph.
She belonged here, in this place, and was crafted and molded by it.
“I’ll be your trainer—for the foreseeable future,” Maelys said as Lyra walked through the door.
“Where is Wilder?”
As if her words conjured him up, he stumbled down the hall.
His black hair was disheveled, sticking up in places over his briar crown. The jacket he had been wearing last night was draped over one shoulder, and the undershirt had been ripped open, exposing red and purple marks on his chest.
He had glassy eyes and a smirk on his lips. But, my gods, the smell. Elixir and something sweet.
Wilder slammed face-first into his door, and Lyra gasped. Maelys rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
“Are you just getting in?”
Wilder slid his face across the door to peer at them. His hand was still grappling for the doorknob he couldn’t seem to find.
“What time is it?” he asked, slurring his words.
Lyra had never seen someone so inebriated before.
“It’s nine in the morning,” Maelys replied. “Were you at the Venus?”
Wilder grinned broadly, his hand finding the doorknob at last. He opened it underneath himself and stumbled into the room before kicking it closed.
Lyra turned her head to look at Maelys, who was shaking her head and laughing as they set off down the hall with two guards trailing them.
“What’s the Venus?” It must be some kind of tavern if the stench of liquor hinted at anything.
“It’s a pleasure hall in the Lower District.”
The answer had Lyra blushing bright scarlet. She had heard whispers of such things from the mermen who had wanted to become scouts—it was a huge motivation for life in the mortal realm.
The humans were much freer with their sexuality than the mermaids, but not nearly as free as the elves.
But Maelys’ unabashed answer to her question had sparked an idea in her mind.
“What does ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ mean?”
Maelys bit down on her lip. “Why?”
Lyra sighed. “I read it in a book last night, and Wilder ripped it out of my hands and refused to answer.”
Maelys shook her head with a chuckle and her braided ponytail swung side to side. “It’s a euphemism for cock.”
The golden thread in Lyra glowed at the emotion that coursed through her. She had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep the laugh from bursting out.
A choking coughing sound from behind had them both turning to look at the guards following them. It was Blondie from earlier, but the mouthy one had been replaced.
Which was a good thing.
Lyra needed to take this embarrassment out on someone, and after her conversation with Daisy, she would be more than happy to fight with him. But Blondie made eye contact with Lyra and lingered.
She turned back around and pressed her lips into a thin line. He wasn’t unattractive by any means, but he was an elf, and she was still a mermaid.
“We’re going to be doing things a bit differently than Wilder does them since I’m in charge now.” Maelys’ voice interrupted Lyra’s thoughts of elvish suitors.
“That’s fine,” she answered in a distracted tone.
Maelys bumped Lyra with a shoulder. “You didn’t even bother to ask how it would be different before you agreed.”
Lyra glanced sidelong at her. “Well, unless you plan to string me up by my toes or run me naked through the streets—nothing could have been worse than training with Wilder.”
Maelys laughed louder, and a smile tugged Lyra’s lips up at the corners.
“You got me there. I wouldn’t say it will be worse. Maybe equally horrible, but in an entirely new way.”
Lyra huffed. She had a feeling Maelys was going to be creative with her torture disguised as training.
Fine, that was just fine.