Page 82 of Grace of a Wolf 1
"Well, that's why it's always best to expect the unexpected." Lyre's voice comes out languid, lazy almost. She stretches in her chair, leaning back as she finishes the last quarter of her food. "We won't go far tonight. I'd rather have a comfortable place to stay."
My forehead creases. A thousand questions bubble to my lips, but I swallow them down with another bite of burger. Who am I to argue or complain? Lyre's a free spirit, willingly bringing me along at her own expense. If she's being a little weird, well, she was weird from the moment we met, so it isn't really that strange when I think about it.
The silence between us isn't uncomfortable, exactly. Just... weird. At least on my end. Lyre seems perfectly content to exist in her own bubble of certainty while I flounder in confusion beside her.
She finishes her burger long before I'm even halfway through mine. While I continue to eat, she plucks fries from the container between us, scrolling through her phone with greasy fingers.
"Looking for a nearby campground," she explains without looking up. Her brightly colored nails click against the screen as she huffs. "Damn it. If I'd known we were going to camp properly tonight, I wouldn't have bothered dumping the tanks here."
"I'm sorry." Apologizing is second nature, a reflexive response. Somehow, I feel responsible for this inconvenience, even though camping tonight is news to me, too.
Lyre's head snaps up. "Why are you apologizing?"
The last French fry dangles in midair as I blink at her. "I don't know. It just… felt necessary."
She shakes her head and clicks her tongue. "Stop apologizing when there's nothing to apologize for. It makes you look weak."
My cheeks burn; it isn't like I'd ever considered myself strong, but being looked down on is never a great feeling.
Lyre squints at me, her unusual eyes calculating. Then comes another sigh, deeper than the last, as if the weight of the entire world rests squarely on her shoulders. She shakes her head again. "You need to remember how to appear strong, even when you feel weak."
"I am weak," I say automatically, used to the designation.
"You don't have to be strong. Just look strong."
My eye twitches. "You want me to lift weights?"
"Of course not." Lyre points her finger at me. "Don't think I don't know you're doing this on purpose. Be strong of mind, Grace. Don't lower your head for just anyone. You're a queen, you know."
I blink. Her strange behavior aside, the lines she's spouting now belong on some sort of TV melodrama. "You're being weird, Lyre."
Lyre groans and tosses her phone onto the table with a clatter. She scratches at her head with both hands, completely mussing her rainbow-colored hair until it sticks up in wild directions.
"I know," she says, sounding utterly miserable.
Then she jerks her head up, glowering at me with her unsettling slitted eyes. "If you appear weak, then those beneath you will have nowhere to stand."
I stare at her for a long moment, my burger forgotten in my hands. "Did you major in saying things without any context whatsoever? Because you're really excelling at it."
"Occupational hazard." She grimaces. "Just hurry up and eat."
Andrew slides into the chair beside me, a scowl etched into his face. "There's nothing out there."
Neither Lyre nor I acknowledge him. I take another bite of my burger, chewing slowly as I study the strange woman across from me. Her hair looks like a rainbow exploded on her head, especially now that she's messed it up, and looks kind of like a young, rainbow-colored Einstein, but younger. And prettier.
"So we're camping tonight?" I ask, trying to understand our next steps.
Lyre's eyes flick over to Andrew for a split second before returning to me. "Yes. There's a little place about twenty minutes from here. Nothing fancy, but it should do. We'll have internet, too."
"That isn't very far," Andrew observes, straightening in his chair. "Is something wrong?"
We ignore him.
"Once we set up at the campsite, I'll need to run some errands," Lyre says instead of replying, her voice casual despite an odd intensity in her slitted eyes. "You should probably stay with the camper."
"I can help, if you want."
"I have another errand to run after setting up." She taps her nails against the table, creating a rhythmic clicking sound. "I can't do it if you're with me."
