Lyra
The smell of warm broth and fresh bread drifted into the room just before the knock came. Two servants entered, each balancing a tray in their hands. The first one, a girl with chestnut hair tied in a braid, set her tray down on the small table by my bed and smiled.
“Good morning, Luna. We brought breakfast.”
“Thank you. And please, call me Lyra.”
They exchanged glances.
“No,” they both said at once.
The chestnut-haired servant spoke again. “Alpha told us to treat you with the utmost respect. He’ll have our heads if we don’t.”
Was that so? I almost laughed, imagining Lewis dishing out instructions to his servants.
“He also said to make sure you eat all your food. Every last bit.” She pushed the tray with the steaming broth bowl toward me. “So you can regain some color in your
