Lyra's POV
"You need something to do with your hands," Mira announced, setting a basket of bandages and dried herbs down on the healer's house worktable, "before you worry yourself into an early grave over a man who probably enjoys unsettling people for sport."
"That's oddly comforting," I said.
"I try." She pulled out a stool and patted the seat beside her. "Sit. I'm not letting you spend another day pacing your rooms and flinching at every raven that lands on the tower."
I sat, grateful for something as simple as a task to occupy the restless energy that had been building since Malachar's visit three days ago. Cassian and Rowan had spent most of that time behind closed doors, deep in conversations I wasn't invited to, and the waiting had worn thinner on my nerves than I wanted to adm
