Red String {EDITING}

Chapter Four | Meeting Rylan

Coming to her senses, Lyra opened her eyes. She blinked slowly, staring up at the white ceiling, noting it was nothing like the ceilings she was used to seeing. It was higher than usual, the crown moulding decorated with what looked like a kind of flower. She didn't recognise it though. There had hardly been time to study flowers and their language in between weaponry and anatomy. She hadn't even been allowed to study poisons, no matter how useful they would've been for her work. The walls were an earthly brown – similar to the hot chocolate drink she'd once managed to taste. Groggy, her hands went to her head and Lyra rolled onto her side atop the wondrously fluffy object beneath her which could only be a mattress, blinking rapidly at the sight she was met with.

The first thing that claimed her attention was the face. It was extraordinary beautiful, to her at least, but it was alarmingly close. Closer than it should have been. Pale eyelids were closed, the corners drooping ever so slightly, framed by dark lashes so thick and long they almost looked feminine. Though she was absolutely certain the man lying next to her was no woman. His shoulders were too broad, and his limbs too long – not to mention the other parts he was packing down below.

A soft snore reached her ears, pinkish full lips parting, and she fought the inexplicable urge to run her fingers over them to see if they really were as soft as they looked.

Heat rose in her cheeks at the unnatural thoughts and urges rising within her, and Lyra rolled in the opposite direction as swiftly as she could – and right off the edge of the bed. She landed with a yelp and a loud thud, the mahogany floor barely cushioning her fall. "Ow," she muttered, wincing as she rubbed her backside. "That hurt..."

"Are you alright?"

Lyra froze, blinking rapidly as she stared up into the icy blue eyes gazing down curiously at her. "Uh," she mumbled intelligently, lost for words as she tried to piece together the situation.

She had woken up in a strange bedroom she now realised, with a strange man she could only vaguely recognise from before the fuzziness. Something whispered in the back of her mind as she stared into the pale blue eyes – a feeling of some sort, one which told her the man in front of her meant no harm.

The hairs on the back of her neck pricked, and Lyra ignored the feelings of comfort and safety that whispered over her skin while she was in his sights.

Distance. She needed distance from her new friendly-feeling foe. Distance so she could work out his intentions. Lyra never went into situations blind. Not when she could help it, and that fact wasn't about to change even with the overwhelming feeling of safety which radiated from the man.

Stumbling to her feet, Lyra backed away from the bed and the half-naked man on top of the quilt, ignoring his shout. "Wait!"

Her feet were already moving as quickly as they could, and Lyra crashed through the nearest door. Breathing a sigh of relief as she was met with a corridor rather than a wardrobe or another dead end, she ran on in the dim lighting. Stone slapped beneath her feet, large, spiralling stairs coming into view as she ran down from what she assumed to be a tower. Glancing over the high railing and down the small gap, she swallowed, knowing she would never be able to make a jump over and down without risking breaking anything. Well, at least until she made it further the way downstairs.

The pursuit behind her was fast, equally bare feet thudding against the slabs. "Please wait!" that same voice called out again, but Lyra didn't dare to wait around.

She had places to be, and none of them were in a strange place with a strange half-naked person. "Only an idiot would wait," she muttered, nearly sighing in relief when the steps came to an end. Lyra didn't stop to admire the ornate carvings on the walnut oak door, instead charging through them with reckless abandon in her haste to escape.