Free Web NovelChapter 53: Chapter 53. A Gaze of Disgust
Lyra moved through the forest with wonder pooling in her eyes. She had never seen anything so beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
Enormous trees rose around her like cathedral pillars, their bark wrapped in moss of every conceivable color, deep emerald, dusty violet, burnished gold. Walking through it felt less like moving through nature and more like stepping inside a living painting. The air was thick with the scent of petrichor, that ancient smell of earth remembering rain.
Between the great trunks, things moved. A squirrel with violet fur darted across a branch. Birds she had no names for flashed wings in colors that had no right to exist. Lyra’s head turned with every flicker of movement.
"Lyra."
The voice was calm, but carried an edge.
"Keep your eyes on the path. You can’t afford to lose focus in a forest like this. An attack can come from any direction, at any moment, and it won’t announce itself."
Lyra glanced to her right. Walking alongside her was a girl roughly her own age, golden hair catching what little light filtered through the canopy. One hand rested at her hip, fingers curled loosely around the hilt of the sword sheathed at her waist.
Elizabeth.
"My eyes are open, Elizabeth," Lyra said, giving her a small smile. "More open than anyone else here, I’d argue. So you really don’t need to worry about me."
She meant it warmly. She understood that Elizabeth said these things out of genuine concern. But Lyra didn’t want anyone carrying that weight on her behalf. She had spent the last several days training precisely so that no one would have to. This expedition was her chance to prove that.
Elizabeth studied her for a moment, then turned her gaze forward without another word. Her hand never left the hilt.
A voice broke through from the rear of the group.
"Lady Elizabeth." It was a deep, unhurried voice. "We’re close to the target. Just beyond those thickets, there’s a Centarian Monkey. What are your orders?"
Elizabeth turned.
Behind her stood a young man who looked less like a student and more like something carved from stone. He stood at least six foot three, broad-shouldered, with close-cropped black hair and a face that carried the gravity of someone ten years older. Nothing about him suggested eighteen. His name was Matthew. Matthew McConaughey, fourth son of McConaughey County, and a student of the Summoning Department. Lyra still found it faintly baffling that someone built like that had chosen Summoning, of all paths. Then again, she supposed this world had always had a talent for surprising her.
"Matthew," Elizabeth said, "we don’t engage yet. Hold position and observe. It’s too alert right now for a direct confrontation. I want to wait for the right opening, then hit it before it knows we’re there. I’m not sending anyone in at a disadvantage."
Matthew nodded. "Understood, Princess Elizabeth. I’ll have Ruina keep watch on it. The moment there’s a clean opportunity, you’ll know."
Elizabeth gave a short nod in return.
The group quietly shifted left, putting distance between themselves and the thickets before settling into a loose circle to plan. Lyra used the moment to look over the rest of her team.
Beside Matthew sat Joseph, the two of them an almost comically mismatched pair. Where Matthew looked like he’d been assembled to intimidate, Joseph looked like he’d been assembled to read. He stood no taller than five foot seven on a generous day, slight and slim in his priest’s vestments, with a mess of brown hair and round-framed glasses perched on his nose. He had no family name to speak of. He’d come from a commoner’s background, and he wore that fact without any particular shame. He represented the Divine Studies Department.
Watching the two of them side by side, Matthew’s enormous frame next to Joseph’s narrow one, Lyra felt a quiet smile sneak onto her face before she could stop it.
"Princess."
The voice came from her right. Close. A little too close. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
"What’s our formation going to look like? Where do you want us positioned?"
The speaker was the fourth member of the team, and easily the most difficult to categorize. If Matthew and Joseph were both, in their own ways, composed, then Cline was something else entirely. He had blond hair, a lean build, and the kind of smile that never quite reached sincerity. There was a pride in his expression that Lyra had noticed the moment they’d met, though she still couldn’t pin down what it was rooted in.
Elizabeth looked at him. He had drifted notably close to her in the time it had taken to ask a simple question.
The smile on his face was not the kind she appreciated. She said nothing about it. He was her teammate, whatever else he might be, and instead took a subtle step back, reopening the distance between them.
"I was just getting to that, Cline."
He noticed. His brow ticked upward for just a moment, but he stayed quiet.
"We’re going with an offensive formation," Elizabeth continued, her voice settling into something crisp and authoritative. "Lyra and I take the vanguard. Cline, you and Matthew handle the midline. I want consistent pressure from range and mid-distance. Joseph stays at the rear and focuses on heals and buffs. Keep us fighting." She looked around the circle. "If anyone has an objection to any part of this, say it now. I’d rather adjust the plan here than correct a mistake out there."
No one objected.
Cline spread his arms in an easy, theatrical gesture, his mouth curling into that same odd smile.
"Object to you, Princess? How could any of us possibly do that."
Lyra watched him. It wasn’t the words that caught her attention. It was the moment after, when Cline’s gaze slid sideways and found her.
She held it for just a second.
She didn’t know what she’d done to earn it. She couldn’t remember a single exchange between them that would explain it. But the feeling behind his eyes was unmistakable.
Disgust.
