41. Showgirl
The following week passed in a blur. Training, reading, sleeping.
Lyra had read unbelievable things in The Knight in Shining Armor. Intimacy and ecstasy, pain and rapture. She still couldn’t quite comprehend it all.
Actually, she wished there had been pictures so she could understand the positions. Sex in this body would differ greatly from the single position that her mermaid form allowed for.
A tail can’t split, and with the main organ in the front, there was really only one way to do it. Unless you got really creative, but being upside down for that long didn’t seem enjoyable.
As she and Maelys walked down to the grounds, she noticed a difference in her gait.
Her legs felt stronger somehow, and her breathing came easier, even while keeping up with Maelys’ quick pace.
The last two days had been scorching. It was changing seasons here.
She hadn’t ever experienced that before.
“Ostara will be upon us soon,” Maelys said, raising a hand to block the blistering sun. “Do the merfolk celebrate?”
Lyra sighed. “The males do. Females are—”
“Forbidden,” Maelys finished for her.
They shared a look, and Lyra managed a small laugh without feeling her power flare. It hadn’t been as noticeable since the incident. Like that light stroke had taken the edge off. The Knight in Shining Armor had mentioned something similar.
“How do you celebrate here?”
Maelys smiled. “A lavish feast, a ball, and, of course, the pleasure halls will brim with revelers.” She wiggled her eyebrows for emphasis.
“Do you go—to the pleasure hall?”
“Of course! Most of us do during the holidays. Exploring your carnal desires is welcome and even encouraged for males and females. We’re more than vessels of life—but life itself.”
Maelys said it with such glee that Lyra couldn’t help but marvel. She hadn’t been raised on anything other than females being vessels for life.
“That sounds—interesting.”
“We should go. I’ll take you,” Maelys offered.
Lyra grinned and nodded. “When is Ostara?”
“Two weeks.”
Lyra bounced on her toes as she walked now, excitement thrumming through her veins.
She had time to read a few more of those romance books she picked out with Daisy and learn some things before she lost her maidenhead.
Her father would be murderous if he knew.
And Drystan—well, he would call off the entire engagement.
That had her smiling even bigger. She could take her life into her own hands with this decision.
Something about that hadn’t excited her as much as it should have. She glanced sidelong at Maelys, admiring the quiet grace she exuded, and sighed.
When they arrived at the training ground, Lyra was surprised to see Queen Aine and a retinue of ladies in pastel dresses.
Queen Aine wore a gown of the purest white.
The small cap sleeves fluttered like wings, and she walked with such a floating flourish, it appeared that she was hovering above the ground.
Ladies flounced about her, holding large parasols in gowns that mimicked the wildflowers that had bloomed on the fields. Powder blue, blush, and buttery yellow. They all seemed too delicate to be here, where Lyra and Maelys were bedecked in leather and weapons.
“Lyra, darling!” Queen Aine called from her chair by the willows. “We’ve come to see your training.”
Dread filled Lyra’s stomach. Her training was abysmal.
She couldn’t hold a sword, fire a bow, or even throw a punch properly. She wasn’t a warrior like Maelys. Lyra didn’t know who or what she was.
Maelys chuckled from beside her. “I hope they weren’t expecting a show.”
Lyra elbowed her in the ribs and immediately regretted it when her elbow throbbed.
“Pretend we’re not even here!” Queen Aine called when they came closer. “We wanted to get a look at you.”
Lyra grimaced. “I’m not sure there is much to see.”
“Oh, nonsense! You’ve been training with the best. Surely you’ve mastered something by now.”
Lyra shot a salacious grin at Maelys. So her failure wouldn’t be solely hers to carry, but Maelys’ as well.
Maelys blanched and turned to look at Lyra. “Uh, we’re still working on getting her land-legs, Your Majesty.”
“Very well, then,” Queen Aine replied with a dip of her chin. “Carry on.”
Lyra and Maelys turned as one and headed for their starting spot for their warmup jog.
“Here goes nothing,” Lyra whispered.
“Don’t embarrass us.”