29. Queen Mommy
Wilder couldn’t believe what was happening. She had lost her mind, not only to speak to the High King this way, but to have cut him off when he was speaking.
Any moment now, his father would cut the very air off from her lungs, and she would die.
“She’s not wrong,” Wilder’s mother said, walking down the long green runner towards them. Her burgundy gown resembled the calla lilies in her garden.
King Oberon shifted in his chair to get a look at his wife and smiled a genuine smile.
“I was wondering when you would interject yourself, my dear.”
The queen smiled in return, taking his hand and standing beside the throne. Not behind the king, but directly beside him.
“Princess Lyra, this is my wife, Queen Aine.”
Aine gazed down at Lyra, a smile fighting to make its presence known on her stunning face.
She was ethereal and warm. Not at all what some had pictured for the Queen of the Wilds. Peaceful and serene.
It had been a divisive time in his father’s rule when he married her instead of whatever courtier his father had selected.
Lyra jerked her chin down in greeting.
“Darling,” Aine crooned to Wilder.
“Mother.” Wilder nodded.
“It has been a long time since anyone has spoken to my husband that way. I quite enjoyed it,” Aine mused.
Lyra stared straight ahead, deadpan.
Wilder could tell she was trying to read this interaction beyond the words that were said. A small crease formed between her brows as she thought through each slight movement and tone of voice.
“We will not be killing you—today at least,” Aine said, looking at Lyra.
“To be frank, your life after this bargain could be better than the meager existence you had as the princess of Atlantis. So, if you were clever, girl, you would accept this deal. This plan might be foolish, but it’s the only one being offered to you. ”
Wilder looked between his parents. It was not often they corrected each other, at least not in front of others.
His mother either hadn’t known of this plan or did not approve of it.
Lyra crossed her arms the moment his mother called her girl, and he could feel the ire radiating off of her.
“You have yet to explain how she will help you restore balance,” Wilder said.
Not just to diffuse what was about to be a descent into chaos, but to further understand what his part might be in all of this.
King Oberon looked away from his wife and studied Wilder and Lyra.
“She has unmatched power. Her voice could command gods and weave fate. I need her only to speak the words to undo the tithe. That is all, no more, no less.”
Lyra was shaking her head from side to side; her gown quivered with the movement, sending tiny ripples fluttering through the delicate silk. She was quaking like a newborn fawn.
“I cannot,” she said.
“It is not that difficult a task,” Aine replied, studying Lyra’s unusual reaction.
“I do not use the power. It is absolute. It will corrupt and destroy.”
King Oberon pondered her words. “It will if you continue to use it after our bargain.”
Lyra screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Her entire body moved with her inhale and exhale. When her eyes opened, she spoke.
“You misunderstand. It will corrupt and destroy me.”
Wilder turned towards her then.
She had never said it was a death sentence before. She had only said it would consume her? But all magic did that. It was a rush of ecstasy every time you used it. Was that not what she had meant?
“How do you know?”
Lyra gazed at him. Utter hopelessness poured from her eyes.
It was a stab to the heart.
“The sea witch told me. The power will turn me wholly into a monster. She showed me visions. It was cold—chaos and death.”
“The power will only corrupt if you do not know how to control it. That’s how magic is,” Aine replied, nodding.
“I understand your fears. But the only way for you to return home is through this bargain. You need to learn how to wield it, just this once. And then you’ll never have to use it again.
If you do not, the very fabric of our world will be in jeopardy, and the gods will see fit to intervene. ”
Lyra bit her bottom lip, and Wilder could tell she was thinking it over.
“Intervene?” Wilder asked.
Oberon nodded, and his expression was grave. “Their intervention would not be welcome—or pleasant.”
“What if we offered you one more thing?” Aine’s brow rose in one elegant arch. “Your independence.”
That word had Lyra’s eyes glowing. Something about that had her risking it all. It was worth more to her than the possibility of death.
“So the proposed bargain is: you teach me how to wield my magic so that I can use my voice to break the bargain causing magical imbalance, and then you’ll restore my form and free me.”
Aine looked at King Oberon, and he looked at her. Something unreadable passed between them for a heartbeat.
Something was off about this bargain. Either his mother or his father knew something else that they would not share.
“If you break the bargain, we will restore your mermaid form and free you.”
“Immediately,” Lyra added.
Wilder smirked then. She must have known more about the elves than she let on if she was setting a time limit on their bargain.
“Immediately,” King Oberon agreed.
Lyra glanced sidelong at Wilder before looking back at the king and queen. Her face blanched, but she nodded her head.
“I accept your bargain.”
Queen Aine clapped her hands and beamed.
“Oh! Wonderful! You have made an excellent choice!”
Lyra didn’t look like she felt that way at all, and Wilder had to agree. She had agreed to do the one thing she wouldn’t even attempt to save herself.
“Your training will start this afternoon. Wilder will be your instructor,” King Oberon decreed.
Wilder reeled back in shock. He did not want to be around her any more than necessary, and training would put him around her for hours each day.
King Oberon studied him with a daring expression, and his mother bit back a smile.
“Father, my orders were to bring her here alive. You never said anything about training her—”
King Oberon lowered his brow over his gleaming eyes. “I knew you could get her here, but why would I give you orders based on her decision that hadn’t been made yet?”
He gestured with his head to Lyra. The other half of the equation.
“Surely Otto—or even Maelys—would be a better instructor,” Wilder argued.
He did not want to do this. In the short week he had been stuck with her, she had burrowed herself beneath his skin.
“You will do it. It is your duty,” his father ordered.
Duty.
His father knew what that word meant to him. The responsibility he had struggled with since he was a small child and learned that the survival of their court—the entire realm—would one day fall to him.
Wilder bowed his head, biting back the arguments that were ready to fly off the tip of his tongue.
“I know you don’t like to hear about your future,” Oberon started.
“Then don’t tell me.”
Wilder turned on his heel and stalked from the throne.
Otto, Ridge, and Maelys gave him a wide berth. He didn’t care at all about the disrespect he had shown to his father or his mother.
Once again, his choice, his independence, had been ripped from him in the name of duty.
One more pound added to the ever-increasing weight on his shoulders. He hated this, hated what he had been born into.
He was envious that Lyra had a shot at freedom, for he knew he never would.