40. Golden Girls
The frigid water and tentacles that appeared in her nightmares were muted somehow. Before, they were suffocating and all-consuming. Her distance from the sea must have weakened them.
Lyra blinked her eyes open. She was back in her room. But where Wilder had sat the last time she woke from unconsciousness, Maelys was now there.
“You’re awake! How do you feel?” she asked, scanning her for injury.
Lyra pressed a hand to the hollowness that threatened to consume her. Her stomach growled so loudly it shook her body.
Maelys smiled and reached for the plate on her bedside table, handing it to Lyra. Meats, cheeses, small crackers, and grapes.
“Daisy is in the kitchen getting you something heavier.”
Lyra nodded and dug in. It wasn’t enough food to sate her, so she licked the plate clean.
“Do you remember anything?” Maelys asked with a gentle nature.
Lyra shook her head and gripped the fabric on her bed as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Her power. It had called to her, screamed so loudly that she couldn’t ignore it any longer, and she had reached for it.
She dropped the plate onto her lap and looked at Maelys with a mix of anguish and horror.
“I am so sorry,” Lyra whispered.
Maelys shook her head and grabbed Lyra’s hand.
“Nothing happened to us. We were worried about you. You just collapsed.”
Lyra sighed and leaned back against the pillows. She didn’t understand why they were worried or why they seemed to care.
“You worried about me?”
Maelys reeled back. “Of course we were.”
“But—why?” A tiny part of Lyra hoped it was for her and not what she could do for them.
“Because we care about you, and you were hurt. What do you mean, why?”
Lyra felt a burning in her eyes and a tightness in her chest. They cared about her.
“I just didn’t know. And my power. Well, you should know something about it.”
Maelys cocked her head to the side. “Okay …”
“It will make me a monster. It will corrupt me, and I know, I know all magic does that, but there was a prophecy about mine.”
“I need to tell you something. And I need you to promise me you’ll listen.”
Lyra turned and looked at Maelys, really looked at her. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, and her eyes narrowed with an unbearable intensity.
“I’m listening.”
“The fear of your power … it was fabricated. By your father and a sea witch.”
Lyra’s eyes slid closed as Maelys’ words wrapped around her and squeezed.
“Otto saw it all. So you don’t have to be afraid. If we can teach you to control it, you’ll be fine. You won’t lose—”
“No.”
Maelys flinched at the command in Lyra’s voice. She hadn’t even used her power, and it still made Maelys flinch.
Which is why Lyra would never use it ever again. It wasn’t just the power that frightened Lyra, but what would happen when she used it.
She was a murderer.
Even if her father and the sea witch had fabricated the prophecy, it wouldn’t have mattered. There were countless stories of creatures abusing their power and becoming nightmares. Even just now, Maelys, who had been consoling her, flinched in fear at her loud tone.
“Lyra …” Maelys began. “Think of the good you could do. You could not only restore balance, but also think about what you could do when you returned home. A lot more—”
“No,” Lyra said again, quieter this time. “No one should have that power. Especially not me.”
But Maelys’ words sank into her heart. When she returned home, would she have it in her to bring about change? She shoved that thought away.
She knew she wasn’t strong enough. And even if she became strong enough—she had to fulfill her bargain first.
Maelys stroked a thumb over Lyra’s knuckles. “I won’t press you again.”
Lyra’s breath caught in the back of her throat.
“I’m sorry,” Maelys muttered. “I don’t know what it’s like.”
Lyra’s chest felt light, her breath coming easier.
“Thank you.” She had expected no one to understand. Even her father had tried to carve the power out of her when she made it apparent she would never use it.
Her door banged open, and Wilder strode through.
“You’re awake.”
Lyra studied him. He seemed sobered at least, but his hair stuck up between the brambles of briars as if he had been tugging on it. His eyes lightened and then darkened under her gaze.
“I am.”
Maelys looked between them both but didn’t contribute.
“Oh, goodie, the door is already open—” Daisy came waltzing in, almost running into Wilder with a tray of food. She sidestepped him and closed her mouth.
Wilder looked between the three females and then nodded before turning on a heel and walking out.
“What in the world has gotten into him?” Maelys muttered, bewildered.
Lyra plucked at her downy comforter and shrugged. Her eyes were on the very full tray that Daisy had brought in. Her mouth watered, and she cleared her throat.
“Daisy?”
“Oh goodness me! Sorry,” she replied, striding to Lyra and handing her the tray. “Hope you’re hungry!”
Lyra shoved handfuls of berries and small cheeses into her mouth as Daisy and Maelys talked.
“I have never seen him in such a tizzy,” Maelys muttered.
Daisy hovered beside the bed until Lyra patted the corner, and then she plopped down.
“It seems as if he’s worried about her,” Daisy replied, nodding to Lyra.
Maelys reached to grab a grape, and Lyra swatted at her hand. Unperturbed, Maelys grabbed one anyway and popped it into her mouth. “You might be onto something.” She spoke with her mouth full. “He was very protective of her on the way here.”
“Under orders,” Lyra clarified.
Maelys threw her a look that said otherwise.
“He stayed by her side the entire time she was fighting off the spider venom, and when he left to bathe, he gave me specific instructions to alert him the moment she woke if it happened while he was gone,” Daisy added.
“What are you two trying to say?” Lyra volleyed her head between Maelys and Daisy.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Maelys asked with a smirk.
Lyra rose when the sun was already well into the sky and enjoyed the serenity of nothingness. She had a day off from training and hadn’t decided yet what the day would bring.
A soft knocking on the door had her shifting her attention from the light streaming through the window to Daisy’s face.
“Still in bed, I see?”
Lyra yawned and stretched her arms up above her head.
“I didn’t have training this morning.”
Daisy grinned and patted the cream ruffles of her uniform.
“Well, then. What would you like to do today, so that I know how to dress you?”
Lyra frowned, and her nose scrunched. “I’m not sure. Maybe the library? Oh! Are there gardens here?”
Daisy walked to the armoire and began rifling through it. “There are the queen’s gardens and the northern gardens. Both are expansive.”
“Which do you prefer?”
Daisy froze with her hands on a sky-blue gossamer gown. “I don’t know. I’ve never walked through the queen’s gardens.”
“Could you go with me, then?” Lyra asked, sitting up against the pillows.
“I would like that very much.”
Lyra swung her legs off the side of the bed and stood up. “Then it’s settled. You’ll go with me.”
They walked arm-in-arm through the queen’s gardens, and it was magical.
There were all manner of flowers and trees, of which most Lyra didn’t even know the names. Some trees had giant leaves in the shapes of stars and flowers whose petals were so thin, they were clear and gleamed iridescently when the light hit them.
Daisy stared in wonder just as much as Lyra. They were trailed by two guards Lyra had never seen before. Which was a relief. She didn’t want the dark-haired one, Cyrus, to ruin Daisy’s time.
Their emerald-green uniforms matched some of the leaves perfectly. And several flowers were the same shade of gold as the embroidered stag horns.
A cool breeze swirled through the garden, and they basked in the afternoon sun. Giggles up ahead reached their ears, and Daisy plucked at her servant’s uniform.
“What’s the matter?” Lyra asked when Daisy straightened her collar for the fourth time.
“There are courtiers up ahead. Ladies to Queen Aine.”
Lyra’s brow furrowed. “So?”
“They’re high-born,” Daisy hissed under her breath as they came closer.
“Does that matter?” Lyra asked, not lowering the volume of her voice.
They rounded the corner where the ladies had congregated around a bench. Only one sat on the bench, draped in crimson silk and glittering jewels. Two more were standing close by in similar shades of pink.
The ladies went silent as they passed. Daisy ducked her chin and tried to pick up the pace, but Lyra tugged her back.
“Ladies,” Lyra greeted them with a dip of her chin.
Only one had the decency to return her greeting. And when she did, the two others shot her a look of disdain.
Lyra rolled her eyes and continued.
“That’s the prince’s pet,” the one on the bench whispered, fanning herself with a large ruffled fan.
“I hear she’s a mermaid that the king is training to kill humans,” another whispered.
“Well, I heard the prince loves her. He asked for a redhead at the Venus.”
Lyra couldn’t help the snort that shot from her.
The prince, in love with her? It would be more likely that the king was training her to be an assassin.
Daisy stared quizzically at her as they continued. “Are you training to kill people?”
“No!” Lyra gasped. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?”
Daisy shook her head.
“I’m training to use my magic to undo a bargain.”
Daisy’s eyes turned as large as the yellow flowers they were passing. “A bargain? Isn’t that dangerous?”
Lyra shrugged. “I guess I’ll find out. I don’t really have a choice anymore. I entered into a bargain with the king.”
“Oh, Lyra. That is most disconcerting to hear. Bargains are tricky to undo.”
“They are indeed, Little Fish,” a female voice purred from underneath the branches of a large willow.
A woman appeared, breezing through a sweeping curtain of branches. Her charcoal gown appeared to change colors in the sunlight and was cut straight across her collarbones.
Daisy gasped and dipped her chin. “Lady Jordania.”
Lyra stared at this new lady—Jordania.
She was unusual, not shallow as the other courtiers had been, but there was something about her, something powerful.
“Little Fish?” Lyra asked, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes.
“It’s my nickname for you, mermaid. How has the land been treating you?”
Jordania stopped in front of Lyra, and that’s when she realized what she had felt. Jordania was a witch. A powerful one.
“I don’t like the nickname, and the land has been … unkind. But the people have been nice.”
Jordania gave Lyra a sweep of her eye and then grinned. “Nasty bite, those witch’s curse spiders.”
Lyra looked at Daisy for an explanation. “Lady Jordania is the healer here. Prince Wilder brought you to her after your spider bite and then again after your accident in training.”
“Then I guess a thank you is in order.”
Jordania brushed a thick lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. “There’s no need.”
Her ears were blunt, not pointed like the elves. Silence stretched taut between them, and Daisy shifted on her feet.
“As a witch, you’re not like the elves, are you?” Lyra asked.
“Very astute, Princess. No, I am not elvish, but I’m not human either. I’m something—in between.” Her voice changed when she said the last part. It was old and young, hers and many.
It made goosebumps rise on Lyra’s flesh.
“What was that?”
Jordania smiled. “Sometimes my magic slips through when it’s called.” The thread of gold in Lyra flared. “You’re almost ready, Little Fish. Use yours when it calls.”
Then Jordania was walking away, her sweeping charcoal gown flowing behind her like a trail of smoke.
“That was … strange,” Lyra said, her brow raising high.
Daisy shivered. “I know she’s nice and all, but goodness, she scares me.”
“Is she nice?” Lyra pursed her lips.
“Very. She’s been nothing but kind, but when her voice does that powerful thing, it startles me.”
Lyra tried not to let her shoulders droop.
What would Daisy think of her if she used her magic?
“Ready to check out the library?” Daisy asked.
Lyra nodded and followed her back through the winding pathway and into the library.
But Jordania’s words plagued her all day. “Use yours when it calls.” Would she recognize it when it did?