22. A Council | Wilder
“I’m glad my roadblock worked,” Otto grinned, brushing off his pants as he stood. “Was worried you would separate.”
“We did,” Maelys spat, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Why?” Wilder asked, gripping his sword tightly. “Why did you save me?”
Otto had betrayed him.
Wilder had spent time in a dungeon only for Otto to come back and save him from a killing blow.
“I didn’t betray you in the first place,” Otto said.
Maelys opened her mouth to retort, but Otto raised a hand to stop her. “Not in a true sense, anyway. And I only did it because of what you said.”
Otto directed that last part directly to Maelys.
Maelys took a step towards him, a scathing glare glowing in her eyes. “How dare you accuse me?—”
He held up his hands in surrender. “You accused me of not acting when I should, so I did this time.”
His reply drew her up short, and all was quiet for a moment.
Ridge wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her back into the fold.
“Explain,” Wilder demanded.
Otto rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Seeing underwater is difficult, extremely difficult, and seeing is impossible when there are no plans in place.”
Wilder’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the last time they had all been together.
The journey to the castle and how quiet Otto had been every time a question about plans had been asked.
He had been trying to see the whole time.
“Go on,” Ridge drawled.
There was a quirk to his lips as if he had assumed Otto wasn’t the bad guy the whole time.
“Nothing was clear until Wilder reached for his sword.” Otto gulped, and the scent of sorrow became so strong that Wilder forced down a swallow to clear it from his tongue.
The salt of the tears was an unbearable scent to him.
“All the visions slammed into me at once. But one thing was clear. If you challenged him, then—Lyra would have died.”
Maelys chewed on her bottom lip. In the dappled moonlight, she looked just as haunted as Wilder felt.
“Lyra was facing the council, and a sea witch was relaying to them what was happening on shore. If it had been apparent to them that we were coming after her, they would have executed her right then and there.”
Wilder felt the words land a blow so deep to his chest he stumbled back a step, his boot knocking against a tree root almost sent him sprawling to the forest floor, but Otto was there.
A firm grip on his tunic, keeping him on his feet once more.
“I couldn’t stand by,” Otto said. “Not that time. Not when the people I love were facing death. Not when the survival of so many people is going to depend on you—and her. ”
Maelys shared a look with Ridge. Oron cleared his throat, stepping closer to the circle.
“What do you mean?”
Otto studied Wilder, his eyes so clearly gauging what he should and should not say in that moment.
Wilder had had enough.
If fate had granted him a friend like Otto in the first place, who was he to deny the benefit?
It had nearly killed him once, trying to blot out the answers to questions he wasn’t ready to know or ask.
“Just say it,” Wilder heaved.
He was exhausted, a bone-deep exhaustion that went beyond the physical. He was tired of decision-making, of leading, of saving. Let someone else take the reins this time.
“Lyra’s struggle in the sea will spill over into the land,” Otto said.
His eyes were a silver swirl of chaos. His hands clenched and unclenched. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
But then he flinched, and all was right again.
“It’s been difficult to see. There is so much undecided. I fear there is not a clear path.”
“Where do we go from here?” Cedric chimed in, his head moving on a swivel. A twig cracked in the distance, and an owl hooted nearby.
“We continue to the summer cottage. I doubt Maelor would come back so soon with the way he left with his tail between his legs.”
Otto kicked at a small stone and nodded. “We will be undiscovered by those deemed enemies at the summer cottage.”
Wilder’s gaze roved across Otto’s face.
“And are you? An enemy?”
Maelys eyes flicked back and forth, but there was a softening around her mouth.
“I have never—and will never be your enemy, Wilder.”
Wilder knew the words to be true and felt the relief wash through his chest.
“Then let’s go home,” Wilder nodded east, towards the summer cottage, towards the sea.
Otto smiled, and Wilder clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Next time, words, not your fist.”
There was laughter bubbling up all around them at Wilder’s jest, and Otto smiled, placing a hand on his chest. “As you wish.”
The forest slumbered as they traveled through it. The horses didn’t whinny. Their ears remained still and did not twitch.
Otto and Ridge whispered back and forth, Ridge’s hands gesturing wildly as he veered around a small hawthorn tree.
“Do you trust him?” Maelys whispered, throwing glances at Ridge and Otto.
“I do,” Wilder nodded. “It hadn’t made sense in the first place.”
Maelys frowned. “He should have told us.”
“He didn’t know. That was partially my doing anyway for not making a plan.”
The small lines around Maelys’ eyes tightened as she narrowed her gaze. “We’ve never made plans before, and it hadn’t mattered.”
“We weren’t dealing with a kingdom outside of our control before either. The moving pieces of this go outside the normal bounds. Otto is being tested in ways we’ve never required of him before.”
White spread across Maelys’ knuckles as she gripped her reins tighter. “Why do you keep making excuses for him?”
“What do you want from me?” he spat. “You wanted him to act before, and now that he has, it’s not good enough for you?”
“Why couldn’t he have saved her?” Her face was drained of all color; it was like staring at a specter when he glanced at her.
The anger and hurt in her voice were so woven together that not even an expert weaver could have untangled them. It became clearer to him now where her hurt stemmed from.
Maelys had felt betrayed before it came to blows. She blamed Otto for not saving them on the beach as much as she blamed him for not telling them about the king’s hand in it all.
“If he could have saved Lyra, I am sure he would have,” Wilder said, a shade softer. “You should discuss it with him instead of harboring this hatred.”
Maelys didn’t reply, but by the clenching of her jaw and her still-white knuckles, he knew plenty about how she felt.
“I feel betrayed. I-I don’t know if I can?—”
Wilder blinked. “I’m not asking you to.”
Maelys whipped her head toward him. “You don’t care how I feel?”
Wilder’s brows pulled together. “I didn’t say that. You’re entitled to feel how you like. I understand Otto’s motives and his decisions. If he said he did what he did to save Lyra, I find that more than worth my time in a cell.”
She snorted and wiped at her eyes. “We almost lost you.”
Wilder nodded. “Yes, but Lyra is still alive because of his actions.”
He found it difficult to say her name aloud. To feel it on his tongue. A flash of auburn hair burned behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. “She is still alive. I don’t care what he did to me if it was in service to her.”
Maelys chewed on her bottom lip, but remained silent.
Wilder reached a hand out and pushed lightly against her arm. “I will make sure he makes it up to you.”
Maelys rolled her eyes and adjusted her seat.
The forest gave way to a rocky path stretching along slate-gray cliffs. He had been so wrapped up in their conversation he hadn’t even noticed the tang of salt in the air.
It didn’t sting as much as he had assumed it would. No, it was nice, like coming home—to her.
Once inside, Wilder stood at the back windows, looking out at the endless horizon of the sea. It made him feel closer to her, as if he could reach out and touch her.
He had no idea what he was supposed to do next, but driving into the ocean and trying to swim to her probably wasn’t the most beneficial of all his plans.
Maelys lounged on a tufted chair, a plaid pillow tucked tightly to her chest as she looked out the window as well.
Cedric, Oak, Dust, and Oron bickered in the kitchen about which of the vegetables they had pillaged from the garden were still edible. While Ridge walked in with a small net full of fish.
“Did you know there are no fish in the pond?” he grumbled, dripping wet trousers pulled up over his knees. “Had to go to the sea.”
Wilder smiled to himself. He wasn’t the only fool who had fallen for that then.
“You didn’t notice there weren’t any ducks?” Maelys asked with a confused face. “How daft are you?”
Ridge’s eyes twinkled at Maelys’ snark, and it made Wilder instantly think of Lyra’s smart mouth.
Otto had a map splayed out on the scarred wooden table, his good arm stretched out on one side and his other still clutched to his chest as he talked to himself.
They needed to organize, to come up with a course of action, and to set it in motion. Wilder rubbed his jaw.
There was already talk of rebellion in the Wilds, but a rebellion wouldn’t succeed if the rebels didn’t come together as one. Small skirmishes would accomplish nothing against the great beast that was his father’s control.
Otto’s attention flicked back and forth between the present and the future, his eyes as turbulent as the sea before becoming as placid as a summer pond.
When his eyes slid closed and his breathing turned shallow, Wilder took a step towards the table, his feet propelled by an invisible wind. They did need to ally like one would in a war camp.
“We should establish our own council,” Wilder announced.
The room went silent except for the howl of the wind against the windows.
“Our path through the upcoming chaos needs to be direct and unyielding despite the challenges we face. We need to stand united.”
The pillow slipped from Maelys’ grip and slid to the wooden floor.
“You mean you’d like to make a plan this time and stick with it?” Her gaze slid from Wilder to Otto, annoyance flickering in her hazel eyes.
“Precisely. We can’t let what happened last time—happen again. Or we’ll fail.”
Otto inhaled slowly, and his shoulders lowered just a fraction.
“Do you see anything?” Ridge asked him.
A small twist of the lips was Otto’s only reply.
“Electing a council would strengthen your challenge for the throne,” Dust added. There was a firmness to the set of his jaw and the way he held his chin. “It would help garner support.”
Wilder pondered his words. It was quite possibly the only way to challenge for the throne again.
“Otto,” Wilder drawled. “Is there a way?”
Otto’s hands clenched and unclenched before toying with the corner of the parchment.
“It’s hard to say,” he said at last, with a great gust of air expelled from his lungs. “There are so many paths forward. So many paths to failure outweigh those to success. But a council wouldn’t lead to your downfall.”
Wilder didn’t know what to do from here. He had skipped most of his father’s council meetings, off doing whatever tasks were too menial for the king to stoop to.
He walked nearer to the table, grabbing the back of a ladder chair and squeezing it in his grip.
Ridge and Maelys followed suit, taking seats nearest Otto and facing Wilder.
Cedric, Dust, Oron, and Oak stayed in the kitchen, but their postures were rigid.
“I’ll need a royal guard,” Wilder said, looking each in the eye. “Do you accept?”
“Aye,” they answered in unison.
Their answer came so quickly that it took a moment for Wilder to register what they had even said.
“We have always chosen you,” Oron said with gusto.
The words were so out of character, a surprise for the stoic guardsman, that it slackened Wilder’s jaw.
“You must give us our appointments,” Otto said.
Wilder pushed his surprise and gratitude aside to focus on the duty at hand.
“Thank you,” he said to Oron, Dust, Oak, and Cedric.
Wilder cleared his throat and nodded. “Obviously, my court will not be built on formality. But you are all deserving of titles.”
The titles for the council differed by king. His father had chosen titles based on the elements.
There was a Lord of Fire, a Lord of Earth, a Lady of Water, and a Lady of Air.
His grandfather had chosen titles based on directions.
Lord of the North, Lady of the West, Lord of the South, and Lord of the East.
Wilder hadn’t given much thought to how he would name his own council, and he struggled to think of names now. But looking at Maelys, an idea came to mind.
“Maelys Briarlace,” she stiffened at Wilder’s words, “you are Lady of Dawn.”
Maelys beamed and tucked back a golden lock of her hair. It really did look like the sun’s golden rays.
“It is an honor, my King.”
Ridge smiled and clutched her hand to his chest. “It suits you.”
Wilder nodded. “Otto Ilmari, Lord of the Moon.”
Otto placed a hand to his chest, dipping his chin. “An honor.”
It was the perfect title for him. His skin and hair mirrored the moon’s translucent glow.
“And me? Lord of the Universe?” Ridge looked on expectantly.
They all shared a laugh at that, and Wilder shook his head.
“Not quite. Ridge Kestenbaum,” he took a breath, grinning at Ridge, “Lord of Dusk.”
Maelys kissed Ridge’s cheek, and he leaned into her lips. “And that suits you,” she muttered.
They smiled brilliantly at each other.
“That leaves us one more …” Otto said.
Wilder looked around the room expectantly before realizing there was no one else.
“We’ll have to make do,” he shrugged.
A broad smile curved up the corner of Otto’s lips, so broad in fact that Wilder could almost see all of his teeth. His eyes swirled and stilled. “She’ll be along soon.”
“She?” Maelys asked, her brows cinching together.
“You’ll name her Lady of the Stars,” Otto answered.
Wilder’s heart thumped wildly in his chest. She.
Did Otto see Lyra returning?
If there was a chance, he would not tell them—not until he knew for sure.
But there was a chance …