36. Scrying | Wilder
Wilder walked along the edge of the surf. It grazed his bare feet and sent a chill through his blood.
It’s not that the water was cold. On the contrary, it had warmed increasingly in the last few days.
Tomorrow was the equinox.
Tomorrow all his hopes and dreams would turn to dust when she had her hand fastened to Drystan’s.
Wilder stopped walking and stared out across the horizon. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the brilliantly blue sky.
The exact opposite of how things had felt in the cottage in the last few days. A dark cloud had been cast over their home.
Tensions were rising, and he could barely stomach it any longer.
Maelys was constantly agitated, her venomous tongue lashing out at every opportunity. Her latest explosion was directed at Cedric for picking carrots that weren’t quite ripe.
“Must I do everything around here?” she had shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.
Jordania and Otto were practically at war with each other, their quiet disagreements bubbling over into full-on shouting matches.
Jordania didn’t care that the magic was unpredictable and volatile when the good it could do outweighed any of the bad.
Otto constantly fretted over the negative outcomes, the most lethal being the cost of life.
It could kill any one of them to form the bridge.
But Jordania argued that it wouldn’t balance the magic. That the cost would not be that high.
Wilder was inclined to agree with her.
They had argued about it again last night, ending with Jordania threatening to turn Otto into a newt if he brought it up again.
Waiting was wearing Wilder down.
He was tired, so utterly exhausted of not doing anything at all. He couldn’t go home, not without challenging his father for the throne. He couldn’t get to Lyra.
He couldn’t do anything. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and a bellow built in his chest.
Wilder tipped his head to the sky and let it loose.
Let the boom of frustration echo around him as his magic unfurled.
A gale sliced across the water, splitting it in two.
Someone giggled behind him, and he turned to find Jordania sizing him up.
“Feel better?”
Wilder’s throat burned, so he settled for a shake of his head.
“I can’t imagine the helplessness you must feel.”
She approached him so that they were side by side. Her pale-blue dress fluttered in the wind, and she pulled a white shawl over her shoulders.
There had been a time when he would have been uncomfortable standing this close to her.
Her unnatural golden eyes that saw too much, and how her voice fluctuated between one and many. Old and young.
“I’ve never felt so … lost,” he muttered.
Jordania smiled, and it was lovely. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Let’s form the bridge and claim the Wilds. Fight for her.”
She was right. But still, the lingering doubt crept back over his mind.
“What if it’s a mistake?”
Her lower lip plumped with her frown. “It’s a mistake to do nothing. It means you’re choosing this life, and I know you don’t want that.”
Her words landed a critical blow, and he rubbed a hand across his chest.
They were eerily similar to Lyra’s words.
Wilder wasn’t choosing this life.
There would never be a life without her.
“I choose her,” he said.
“Then let’s at least try. Magic is stronger on the equinox. It should help.”
Wilder nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets. It was well past time they picked a path.
Jordania beamed. “I’ll get the others. And the stones!”
She hurried back up the path to the cottage in that mysterious way that made it appear she was hovering above the ground instead of hiking up the rocky path.
Wilder stayed by the shore, still pondering the choice he had made.
Otto would not be happy with him, but his choices had landed Wilder in a cell. It was high time Wilder made his own choice.
The waves crashed upon the shore in line with his breathing. He listened to its song with his eyes closed. I miss you, he wanted to tell her.
He wanted to tell her that not a moment had passed that he did not think of her, want to hold her, or feel her next to him.
In just a few short minutes, that would be possible.
The waiting was excruciating.
Rocks skittered, and he opened his eyes to see Jordania leading Otto, Maelys, and Ridge down the path. Otto stared pointedly at the ground, his tunic roughly shoved up his forearms as if he had done so out of agitation at Jordania’s summons.
Maelys gripped Ridge’s hand as he led her along.
Her leather boots gleamed in the sunlight, visible through the sheer underskirt of her lavender dress.
She fisted her skirts up high to not trip on them.
Something about her movements reminded Wilder of Lyra tromping through the Three Sisters in her slippers.
Ridge flicked his attention from the path to Maelys. Every time his eyes met her face, his lips quirked. The dark swirls of his tattoos appeared darker in contrast to the light-olive tunic he wore.
They had all dressed more relaxed here. Even Wilder sported a black linen tunic and trousers instead of training leathers or armor. But Oron, Cedric, Dust, and Oak still flitted between leathers or armor. Wilder looked toward the cottage to see if they would be along soon.
“Baelwyn has led your guard on a unicorn sighting,” Jordania answered when Wilder’s attention flitted to the cottage. “It’s just us.”
“This is a mistake,” Otto said.
His face was shadowed by his scowl. He had never seen Otto so upset before.
“Well, I think it’s about fucking time,” Maelys snapped. She let go of her skirts and fluffed out her lavender gown.
Otto flinched and turned to gape at her.
“You’re in a mood,” he said under his breath.
“Exactly. So watch it, or I’ll set the snakes on you.”
Ridge merely chuckled with a shake of his head. “I’m here for moral support and to make sure no one dies.”
He patted Maelys’ shoulder, and Wilder was surprised when she didn’t move away out of spite.
Rocks clattered in Jordania’s fist as she palmed them. “This might take several tries. I don’t know what time would be best.”
Wilder heaved a sigh and brushed a thumb over Lyra’s necklace. “It’s fine. It’s better than doing nothing at all.”
Otto grumbled disapprovingly, but clamped his mouth shut when Maelys hissed at him.
Jordania stuck her toes in the water but put her back to the sea as she faced the land.
“Have a seat,” she instructed.
Wilder sat facing her on her left side.
“Otto, can you sit on the other side of me? Ridge and Maelys in the front. I might need assistance when channeling.”
Otto lowered himself reluctantly. While Ridge plopped down and pulled Maelys onto his lap.
“What do we do?” he asked, wrapping Maelys up in his arms.
“Nothing for now. I just need silence,” Jordania replied. She squared her shoulders and closed her eyes.
They sat that way for hours.
Jordania chanted in a language Wilder did not know and then tossed her stones in the center of them.
Each time, she scooped them back up and scowled.
It wasn’t working.
All the time he spent deliberating on what would be the best course of action, he had chosen wrong.
Before long the sun would be gone and the day would be over.
Jordania scooped the stones off the ground with a sigh before closing her eyes and chanting again.
She wasn’t giving up.
Then neither should he.