3. Journey | Wilder
Wilder stood before Queen Titania and her consort, Baelwyn, sand still clinging to his sodden clothes.
It was frigid. He locked his knees in place to keep from shivering as a heavy cloud of tension settled over the room like an impending storm on the horizon, but much, much closer.
Titania shifted forward on her crescent moon throne. The waning light dimmed the rainbow reflections from the stained glass windows.
Everything was muted without Lyra.
Titania’s piercing gaze had Wilder looking down at the floor.
His reflection stared back up at him in the polished marble. He hardly recognized himself.
Dark shadows were smudged beneath his eyes, making him appear deathly ill. His hair continued to drip saltwater onto the floor and blurred the crude mirror.
Wilder hadn’t yet told them Lyra had been taken, but due to her absence by his side, he knew they suspected something had happened.
Wilder cleared his throat, and it burned. The pain was nothing compared to the pain his words would elicit.
“Princess Lyra has been kidnapped.” His voice bounced off the marble archways and echoed off the stained-glass windows.
Somewhere behind him, a wine goblet slipped from fingertips.
The sound of shattering glass exploded against the marble floor.
Gasps swelled, and there was a flutter of dresses and the squeaking of boots as the gathered crowd reacted.
There was a numbness spreading through him, freezing his heart. Wilder squared his shoulders and stared up at the dais.
“King Auris is dead. There is a new King of the Seven Seas,” he said, filling them in on as much information as possible.
The queen sat rigidly, her knuckles turning as white as the surrounding stone. It was unusual for her to appear so ruffled.
“Who?” Titania spat, her eyes turning molten.
Her voice was void of emotion, but her eyes gleamed with rage.
She blinked, and everything he had seen vanished, like a curtain falling at the end of a play.
“Drystan,” Wilder answered.
He hung his head under the weight of his failure. Wilder would be blamed for this just as surely as the sun rises in the east.
“The sea has taken her,” Titania whispered, covering her mouth with her fingers.
Wilder nodded, at a loss for words to convey the depth of his regret. Those regrets now played in an endless loop across his mind.
If he had just brought his sword, or even a guard, this would not have happened. Lyra would still be here, beside him.
This could have been a joyous time, a coming together of two kingdoms at last.
Lyra’s absence pressed upon him, crushing him from the top down as he began to spiral.
It was his fault.
Wilder should have known better.
The wulvers had tracked them from the very first day—he should never have been unprepared.
A high-pitched wail split the air and interrupted his flooding guilt. Odette collapsed to the floor in a heap of lavender taffeta among the shattered glass.
A guard with armor as white as sea foam approached and lifted the fragile princess into his arms as she sobbed her daughter’s name.
Odette beat her fists against the thistle that was engraved on the white metal.
It set Wilder’s teeth on edge to hear her scream for her daughter. A mother’s despair was unrivaled when it came to the loss of a child.
The echo of her grief followed him as she was carried out of the throne room. But Lyra was still alive, and he would do everything he could to make sure she stayed that way.
If only he had prevented this in the first place.
Wilder shook his head as if to free himself from the echoes of her sorrow.
More … he should have done more.
“We must retrieve her at once!” Baelwyn’s voice boomed in the silent room.
It reverberated off the walls and shuddered through Wilder’s chest as he weathered the king consort’s rage. His fingers curled into a fist as he pounded against the arm of his throne.
Titania cast her gaze upon her husband. It was hard for Wilder to gauge what she saw, as her face betrayed none of what she was feeling.
It was such a carefully crafted mask.
It reminded him of Lyra, of the way she would tuck everything she felt so deep down she appeared no more than a blinking statue.
“You’d have us start a war with Atlantis?” Titania asked, looking from Baelwyn to Wilder.
Again, Wilder nodded. “She was taken against her will. I will do everything within my power to make sure she is freed.”
Titania surveyed him, her lips pursed.
“And you?” she asked Baelwyn. “You agree that we should launch a war against the merfolk?”
Baelwyn stroked his long white beard as his fury ebbed away.
The silver of his robe shone like light along the water as it rippled with his movement.
“If King Auris is dead, this could impact Odette,” he muttered. “We can’t launch war ourselves, but you heard him; they have taken the princess against her will. Back to a kingdom where she will be mistreated and abused. We owe it to our bloodline to at least try. To our daughter.”
A shadow passed across Wilder’s face as the guilt crept back in.
Was she being tortured now?
What would they do to her when they found out about the bargain she made with the High King?
Wilder turned to Otto, who met his eyes and shook his head, but there was something more he wasn’t saying.
“What is it?” Wilder asked.
Otto muttered just loud enough for their group to hear him. “Odette will die if she returns to the sea. The Queen worries that the sea kingdom will rise up and claim her as well. They won’t jeopardize their daughter’s safety.”
Maelys shifted on her feet, but her eyes were bright with anger. “But they’ll let it happen to Lyra?”
Ridge appeared solemn, but his proximity to Maelys grew even closer as he shifted towards her.
Otto shook his head with a grimace. “They’ll work with the Wilds, but will not attack on their own.”
Wilder had to do something.
They had to help him save her.
“You should know,” Wilder said, interrupting the sounds of disagreement that had erupted between Titania and Baelwyn.
Wilder took a step forward, leaving a trail of sand in his wake. “Lyra, she … she saved me. I am honor-bound to repay that debt.” He squared his shoulders under the weight of the crowd’s attention falling on him.
Announcing such a thing to this many witnesses was as good as staking his entire life on the claim.
If he did not repay his debt to her, his entire reputation would be befuddled, and it would forever be a mark upon his honor.
“I will return to the Wilds and ask the High King to formally declare war on Atlantis.”
Otto cleared his throat and took a step towards the dais as if he had been summoned. “I have seen that Oberon will not agree to wage war upon Atlantis.”
Titania frowned and shifted forward in her seat. “That’s not surprising. I don’t believe that in our entire history a war has been waged against the sea.”
Her nails clacked in staccato against the marble.
Baelwyn appeared to share Wilder’s sentiment. Blood crept up his neck and pooled in his cheeks as his jaw turned as stiff as stone.
His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but Titania raised her hand, demanding silence.
“And what would your plan be then, Prince Wilder? Do you plan on putting your duty to the crown before your duty to honor?”
The pieces clicked into place. Queen Titania was testing his resolve and his allegiances. The queen wanted to know just how far Wilder would go for Lyra.
Wilder slowly raised his chin, meeting the queen’s assessing glare. “I will challenge the High King for the throne and declare war on Atlantis myself.”
Otto shifted on his feet, and Wilder glanced sidelong just long enough to see a flash of confusion cross Otto’s face.
Queen Titania cleared her throat, and Wilder’s attention returned to her. She gave him an appreciative nod and sighed deeply as she turned to Baelwyn.
“This war would be costly—not just to our people, but to the realm.” Baelwyn met her stare head-on without so much as a flicker of emotion.
Opinions from those gathered shattered his focus on the dais. The sentiment seemed split. Expressions of anger and fear dotted the abyss of stoicism. He couldn’t tell where their allegiance lay.
“I will not lose another of ours to the water.”
There was a surprising amount of agreement in the crowd. Wilder felt a fraction of tension leave his body as his lower back loosened.
Titania pursed her lips for a mere moment before her shoulders relaxed. “Fine. Do everything within your power to give aid to Wilder’s plight. If the High King will not listen to his own son, maybe he will listen to you.”
Baelwyn grunted his agreement and rose from the chair beside his wife. His silver robe pooled at his feet like liquid moonlight.
Wilder knew his father wouldn’t listen to anyone, but when he looked to Otto for confirmation, his friend’s face was unreadable.
“Will it change anything?” Wilder asked under his breath.
Otto’s eyes swirled like fog on the water. Wilder held his breath and prayed to whichever god might be listening.
Please let it help.
“Possibly,” Otto whispered, as his eyes cleared at last. “There are too many decisions yet to be made.”
Baelwyn appeared beside Wilder. “I can have the horses ready within an hour. Unless you’d rather wait until the morning?” He nodded his head to the dwindling sunlight that seeped through the stained-glass windows.
Wilder shook his head. He couldn’t fathom waiting one more second in this throne room while she was being dragged back to Atlantis.
He needed to be doing something, anything, that was in line with their goals, and waiting here was unfathomable. His heart thumped within the recesses of his chest. Each pump sounded like a knock in an empty room.
“I can’t …” Wilder murmured, not being able to meet the empathy in the king’s gaze.
Baelwyn gave him a quick nod and patted Wilder on the shoulder as he began doling out rapid orders. He turned once more to Wilder, who appeared nailed to the marble floor.
“We’ll get her back, son.”
The confidence in his words had Wilder peeling his feet from the floor. Turning on his heel, he moved with a quickened pace towards the throne room doors. He had to pack, and quickly.
“Wilder,” Titania’s voice halted him in his tracks. “Keep your wits about you. Do not lead with emotion, but with a clear and level head. You will do her no favors if you become lost to your grief.”
Her words struck a chord deep within him, nearly as deep as his duty was his love for her, and he knew now what would win out if it ever came to blows.
The murmurings in the throne room followed him as he left, twisting with the orders Queen Titania doled out.
“Make ready the ships and man the watchtowers?—”
Wilder’s strides were thunderous as he propelled himself towards his room. It would take time to ready the horses and pack supplies, but he didn’t want to stall for a single second.
Anxiety curled around his chest, making his breathing difficult as he shoved his extra clothes into a bag.
When he had his belongings together and nothing else to do, he placed a hand on his chest. His heart was pumping between his fingertips, and he focused on the steady beat.
But flashes of images from the beach and the terror in her eyes in those final moments plagued him.
Wilder thought back to happier times. To their first moments together and the fire that burned within her. It was a fire that no sea kingdom would extinguish.
Air filled his lungs as he managed a deep breath at last.
He would see her again.
No matter what, he would make sure she was safe.
Wilder couldn’t stand to sit there while the others readied their horses, so he dropped his bags with Ridge and headed for the shoreline—where they had last stood together.
He took the crumbling stairs to the rocky shore as gusts of wind whipped his hair into his face. He clawed it away, nearly slipping on the slick stairs.
Wilder unfurled the magic from his chest, silencing the wind with a small tendril of his power. His boots crunched small rocks and even smaller shells as he reached the bottom of the stairs and set off to where they had sat together.
The brine in the air held the allure of her being just out of his reach. It soothed the jagged edge of his sorrow that perceived proximity to her.
Traveling to the Wilds would be a testament to his strength. He sank to his knees before the surf. The water nearly reached him before retreating.
The moon was swollen in the sky, its glow absorbed by thin clouds that cast the light in a halo. A smattering of stars was just barely visible overhead.
Wilder turned towards its reflection against the swelling tide, but a glimmer of blue in the sand caught his eye. He scooped it up and froze.
It was Lyra’s sapphire shell necklace.
The thin chain was cold against his palm as he gripped the dainty jewel in his hand.
It was unbroken, as if the chain had merely slipped over her head instead of being ripped from her.
Wilder stroked a thumb over it, feeling the grooves of the swirling shell. A rush of comfort washed over him, warming the sapphire in his hand.
It was an offering of goodwill from the sea. Proof of life of his beloved.
Wilder took it as good fortune for himself, not daring to think what it might mean for her.
But it had to be a good thing, right? Something of hers to hold on to.
What would she have from him?
“I will come for you,” he whispered and could have sworn the shell vibrated under his touch. “I will come for you.”
His heart pounded in time with the crashing waves against the beach. He prayed that the sea would swallow his words and carry them to her ears.