32. Sweet | Wilder
The wind howled a mournful sound outside his window, and the blanket had long lost its warmth. Wilder turned onto his side, watching the leaves tremble in the window, blotting out the stars in the night sky.
He inhaled deeply, catching the scent of the sea and the crisp night air. But there was something in the distance—something that shouldn’t be there. He pulled himself out of bed, tugging on his trousers and boots before heading towards the front door.
“The land woke me,” Ridge said from the shadows, nearly giving Wilder a heart attack. He flinched, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Ridge chuckled, but Wilder sighed.
“I scented him. But I was already awake,” Wilder said, reaching for the door handle.
Ridge was hot on his trail as they made their way outside. “How did he know where to find us?”
“I’m assuming the same person who told Jordania,” Wilder grumbled. “Warick.”
He squared his shoulders, placing his hands on his hips as Baelwyn rode through the trees. His grey cloak billowed behind him like smoke.
It took a heartbeat for Wilder to realize why he couldn’t hear the horse’s hooves. Because it wasn’t a horse at all—it was a unicorn.
Wilder and Ridge stood gaping as Baelwyn rode steadily towards them. It shouldn’t be possible. Wilder hadn’t even glimpsed a unicorn and yet here was Baelwyn, riding one.
“Greetings,” Baelwyn called as the unicorn came to a halt in front of them.
Wilder stood in awe, his lips parting as a breath escaped him. It was exactly how Lyra had described it.
“Impressive,” Ridge said, his voice uncharacteristically high. “How did you manage that?”
Baelwyn grinned at the creature and stroked a hand down its long mane. “I have a way with creatures.”
He bowed his chin to the unicorn, and it cantered away, disappearing behind the wall of trees.
“What brings you here?” Wilder asked, his attention shifting from the forest to Baelwyn.
The king consort now appeared grim, his lips thinning. “Warick sent me.”
Wilder scoffed. His uncle was becoming more meddlesome by the day.
But news from the Wilds would be well received. He would like to know how his mother fared.
Ridge grumbled something about politics under his breath. Baelwyn nodded towards the summer cottage. “Let’s speak inside. Do you have tea?”
Wilder forced a smile onto his face. “Of course.”
As they ambled back towards the cottage, Wilder found himself constantly gazing over his shoulder to catch another glimpse of the unicorn.
“How did you do it, honestly?”
Baelwyn chuckled and pulled a honey biscuit from his pocket. “They crave sweets.”
A laugh bubbled out of Wilder’s chest, and it surprised him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. It had probably been because of something Lyra had said.
No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t anything she had said.
His eyes burned with the memory. He could see her cotton gown, her hair braided from crown to root, and the rogue wave that had knocked her off her feet.
The look on her face as she spluttered in the sea foam. His ribs had hurt from laughing, and then she had tackled him right there in the surf.
“Wilder—” Ridge’s loud voice reeled him back into the presence. “Did you hear what Baelwyn just said?”
Wilder shook his head, feeling his hair tangle in the briars of his crown. He was in need of a haircut.
Actually, he was in need of many things. Warmth gathered low in his stomach from the lingering effects of her memory.
“Humans massacred a squad of mer scouts.”
The door of the cottage slammed open, Wilder’s rage seeping into every fiber of muscle he used to open it. Its sound echoed so loudly that he knew at once that he had woken everyone from slumber.
“What the fuck?” Maelys hissed, stumbling into the hallway, Otto flinging open the door opposite her.
Behind them was a very harassed-looking Jordania, and an alarmed Dust and Oak. Oron and Cedric were completely dressed, with swords at the ready, when they appeared in the stone hallway.
“Baelwyn is here,” Wilder announced. “He brings news. Get dressed.”
It didn’t take anyone long, but by the time they were all gathered, several pots of steaming water sat in the middle of the table, teacups in front of each chair and an assortment of tea pouches beside the pots.
Wilder rubbed a finger over the porcelain rim of his cup while he waited for the tea to steep. The amber color was slowly darkening, and the spicy scent of peppermint filled his nose.
Ridge, Baelwyn, and Maelys talked amongst themselves. Mainly about Baelwyn’s journey here and the type of flora and fauna the Valewood was known for.
Dust, Oron, Cedric, and Oak were all alert. Their eyes shifted from the door to the window.
Jordania was the last to arrive.
Otto wordlessly pulled out the chair beside him, and she slid into it. Her long chestnut hair was pulled up, elongating her neck and sharpening her features.
The charcoal gown she wore was almost identical to the one she wore while seeing Atlantis, but with white ruffles capping the sleeves. It softened her sharp lines.
“Well,” Baelwyn began, pouring himself another cup. “There have been several alarming attacks near and around the Wilds. But the one that has caused the most stir is that of what happened in the human town of Fresia.”
He knew that town, had been there himself to kidnap Lyra.
“Why do we care about humans?” Dust asked with a scoff.
There were often human skirmishes, but the elves had never concerned themselves with them before. Just so long as the humans kept out of their land, and they didn’t go near Badenvaria, there had been peace.
“Because of who was attacked,” Ridge answered for Baelwyn.
Wilder rested his chin on his fist. “The humans attacked a squad of mer scouts.”
“Did any humans survive?” Oak chimed in.
He looked like a warrior, studying the battlefield the way his expression seemed to pinch.
Baelwyn shook his head, and the long white hair of his beard trembled. “You misunderstand. It was the humans who attacked the scouts. We’re not sure if there were any survivors.”
“The humans attacked?” Dust and Oak said in unison.
Wilder thought over the probability of that encounter.
The scouts were lethal on land and at sea. It should not have been possible for the humans to inflict any sort of damage on one, much less a whole squad.
“That’s not possible,” Oron said, mirroring Wilder’s thoughts. “No such thing has ever occurred, and surely they’re not strong or trained enough.”
Baelwyn took a sip of his tea before answering. “I would be inclined to agree with you had our own sources not confirmed it.”
Fresia was nearly in the center between the Mannereds and the Wilds, which would explain how both kingdoms had learned the news.
“Any idea why?” Ridge asked, his attention sweeping from Otto to Jordania. Both of whom had remained unusually silent during the entire meeting.
Jordania drummed her fingers in front of her, and Otto merely watched.
“Well?” Wilder prompted them again for a response.
Jordania exhaled and rubbed her eyes.
“They sought information about Lyra.”