Chapter 8. Something Is Wrong

Lyra POV

Several minutes pass, and the woman hasn’t returned to help me fasten my dress. I sure don’t miss her company, but I feel the cool air on my bare back and hope the Queen Mother doesn’t walk in to see me like this.

There’s a dressing area in the suite, so I figure I can at least do something with my hair in the meantime, sitting on the velvet bench in front of the vanity.

I hardly recognize my reflection when I look up at the mirror. Though clean and wet, tufts of my hair stick up over balls of mats, and my heart sinks. It will take forever to comb these out.

But I have to try. The alternative is having that cold-mannered woman come back and start ripping half of it out of the follicles.

So, I find a brush in a drawer and start working on the ends, gently pulling as I work my