The sea breeze kept playing with Lyra's hair as she stood right beside me at the railing. She turned her head a little more toward me, her eyes curious and warm.
"Yeah, what is it, Austin?" she asked softly.
I looked out at the water for a second, then turned to face her.
"How's Afa?" I asked.
The question hung in the air. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The only sounds were the low hum of the ship's engines and the waves slapping against the hull. My mind flashed back to that horrible moment — Alaric's fist punching straight through her chest, the way she crumpled to the ground in a pool of her own blood. It made my stomach twist.
Lyra noticed the silence. She exhaled slowly, like the memory weighed on her too.
"She is… as far as I know," she said quietly.
"She was seriously injured, right? Is she okay?" I pushed the question a little more, my voice serious.
Lyra nodded, her gaze drifting to the ocean for a second before coming back to me.
