Page 16 of Of Wolves and Wives

“Because we’re friends, remember? You didn’t think I’d let a little thing like … like what happened before get in the way of that, did you? I’m here because you need me.”

“Friends,” I snort.

Lyra nods, obviously misinterpreting my tone as her smile widens. Watching her now, I have to force myself not to scowl at her.

She was the one who made it perfectly clear that we weren’t friends when we last talked. In fact, she even went as far as to accuse me of stealing the prince’s attention away from her.

I don’t trust this sudden change in attitude. If anything, I’d expect her to be furious to hear that I’m supposedly carrying the prince’s child.

After all, she made it perfectly clear to me that she wanted to be the one to do just that.

“Yes, friends,” she repeats. “I just couldn’t stand to think of you here, surrounded by all these … wolves, and without a friendly face to comfort you. So, here I am.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to respond to this or even remind her how things ended the last time we saw each other. Spinning around, she spreads her arms wide as she moves about the room.

“I mean, just look at this,” she exclaims, running her fingers over one of the chairs. “Isn’t this all you ever wanted? All you ever could have hoped for?”

“This isn’t—”

“Let’s get you something to eat,” she interrupts, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she turns to a maid I hadn’t noticed standing off to the side.

I watch Lyra, her smile never faltering as she bubbles away, cooing over every small detail of the room. She turns to me, just as a new maid returns with a glass of water and a plate of steamed plums.

At this point, I’m just thankful the maid isn’t Beatrice. I don’t think I’d be able to handle much more of this day if I had to deal with both her and Lyra.

“Set it down, over there,” Lyra orders the maid, pointing to the bedside table.

The maid does as she bids, even as my own nerves are set on edge by the way Lyra’s ordering her about. Hovering next to the tray, Lyra busies herself with making sure the maid cuts the plums just so. She even goes so far as to test that they’re the perfect temperature before offering them to me.

If I didn’t stop her, I’m sure she would’ve fed them to me, too. Taking the plate of plums from her, suddenly hungry despite my distaste over the current situation, I eat.

My eyes narrow on Lyra, but she seems completely oblivious to my scrutiny as she runs a hand over the bedsheets.

“Those pillows look awfully flat,” Lyra says. “I’ll have the maids fetch you some better ones, and perhaps an extra blanket.”

“I don’t need—” I start through a mouthful of steamed plum.

“Hush, now. I will take care of this.”

Lyra is all smiles as she turns her back to me and bosses the maid about. It’s not long before several maids are sent for, and I’m unable to get a word in edgewise … though I’m beginning to suspect this is by design.

I don’t think I like this new side of Lyra. Our fight and her parting words keep replaying in my head, despite me wanting to believe they were spoken in the heat of the moment, and not out of true ill will.

I want to believe she didn’t mean what she said, but I can’t shake the way I saw her eyes flash, or the venom in her tone as she lashed out at me. And even now, I can’t begin to imagine why she’s suddenly forgiven me.

As soon as I’ve finished the plums, Lyra is once again by my side. With an almost sickeningly sweet smile, she helps me into bed, fluffing up the new pillows and pulling the blankets over me.

“There, isn’t that better?”

“I—”

Bending, she presses her lips to my forehead, taking me by surprise as she leans back to give me yet another smile.

One too many, even for her.

“Get some rest, Rose. I’ll be back to check on you later, I promise.”

A promise that sounds more like a threat to me.

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