The next morning, Lyria felt no more rested as she dragged herself out of bed at dawn. She realized she had no idea where she was meant to be going, or what she was meant to be doing. She focused instead on waking up, throwing open the doors to her balcony to get the sea breeze against her cheeks. After a few minutes of standing pressed against the railing, looking out at the Bay of Bones and wondering what it would be like to learn to swim, she turned away. Back inside, she pulled on a simple dress, brushed her hair, and had barely put on her linen shoes when Navaill was knocking at the door.
“Lyria,” he said, with his usual formal bow. “I was asked to escort you into town, where you will learn more about Cyrrillest and the history of our nation.” Navaill hesitated slightly, then asked,
