38. Temple | Lyra
The temple felt eerily familiar. Its domed roof was nearly identical to throne room in Atlantis, except this one appeared organic, like the lopsided shape of that ancient willow.
The stone carvings on either side of the door were long and thin, like tree branches. And not the types of trees one would find beneath the surface, but like the ones she had seen in the Valewood. Covered in bark and stretching up to the sky like grasping fingers.
Carvings of roots spread along the exterior walls, almost as if they were searching for soil and not sand.
“How strange …” Lyra breathed, floating up the front steps and stopping just before the large archway that constructed the front door.
“What?” Drystan asked. His head swiveled to-and-fro like he were still waiting for something to happen.
“Do all the temples look like this?” Lyra looked at Drystan for an answer, but his eyes were not on her.
“No,” a masculine voice purred from inside.
Aegir.
Drystan was at her side in an instant, an arm stretched in front of her.
“Tidal Master,” Drystan said coolly despite his defensive stance.
Aegir’s face appeared in the slanted light that floated down from the openings in the ceiling.
“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” Aegir said, staring inquisitively at them both. “Your wedding is tomorrow, not today.”
He clasped his hands together in front of him, and the dark robes floating around him resembled octopus tentacles.
Lyra leaned forward, attempting to cross the threshold, but Drystan didn’t remove his arm.
Aegir stared pointedly at it.
“We thought we’d check on the repairs. Make sure everything was perfect for tomorrow,” Drystan replied.
Aegir looked up and around. “There are still some walls that need patching, but the supplies had been delayed—until now.”
Lyra glanced at Drystan and noticed the feathering of the muscle in his jaw.
“But what a miracle I returned just in time,” Aegir said. “You nearly violated the sanctity of our oldest temple.”
Lyra’s brow furrowed, and she swiveled her head between the two males. “How would I?—”
“Females are forbidden,” Aegir cut in smoothly. “Except during weddings.”
“I’m not just a female,” Lyra snapped.
Drystan rose to his full height, towering over Lyra and becoming eye-level with Aegir.
“I’m sure that allowances can be made for our future Queen.”
Aegir’s face was carefully blank. “She is still a female, is she not?”
Drystan shrugged. “Haven’t gotten around to checking, but one would assume so.”
If matters weren’t so tense, Lyra would have laughed at Drystan’s attempt at a jest.
But his words only infuriated Aegir.
“If I bend doctrine now, then what kind of Tidal Master would I be?” Aegir asked.
“An alive one,” Lyra muttered under her breath.
Drystan angled his body in a way that nearly covered her completely. “Under my rule—” he began.
Aegir tutted. “Not until tomorrow.”
The guards behind Drystan shifted uncomfortably. Lyra cast her attention towards them and noticed the deepening scowls on more than a few faces. When she turned her attention back towards the stalemate, she realized why.
Behind Aegir were more than a dozen acolytes of the temple. They were all heavily armed.
She didn’t need to enter the temple.
As much as she wanted to see Tiandra and the faces on the princes when they realized she had been right all along, the princes and Drystan were the only ones who needed to enter.
“Unless you’re here to retrieve your trident?” Aegir asked, stroking a hand across his chin. “You know it’s not yours until the princess is.”
Lyra gaped. She had no idea the trident was here.
Drystan inhaled sharply. “No. We are here only to check on repairs and for Lyra to get a glimpse?—”
“Forgive me,” Lyra blurted out. “I only wanted to be closer to Ennosidas before our wedding tomorrow. To feel absolved from my time on land,” she hung her head to really sell it.
“If your only grievance is my entry, then you can allow the others inside,” she gestured to the princes behind them.
“I will not cross the threshold and bring more shame upon myself.”
Drystan’s eyes widened a fraction before he caught her meaning and nodded his head.
“Such piety, from our future queen,” Drystan spoke with a regal flourish. “Your ceremonies have done wonders for her faith, Aegir.” He swam forward, passing Aegir and patting the Tidal Master on the shoulder.
Aegir was frozen. His eyes darted between them all as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
Drystan turned so that he was facing Lyra, just inside the threshold. “There’s a lovely garden to the south. You can wait for us there, my love.”
Lyra dipped her chin and turned to leave before Drystan cleared his throat. “Fang, Angler, stay with my princess.”
The council swam in behind Drystan, followed by the remainder of their guard, while Lyra found herself surrounded by Fang and Angler.
She felt a weight had been lifted from her chest. There was no way Aegir could hide the mural now.
They had succeeded—partially.
“What about the ceremony?” Fang whispered.
Lyra shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be performed in the temple. We could do it anywhere.”
They swam beneath a marble archway, and the brush of the current turned softer. It pebbled her skin like the kiss of a cool wind. She paused.
“We should do it here,” she breathed, closing her eyes and trying to wrap her mind around what was happening.
The ocean felt more alive here, ancient and eternal, but alive. Her heart fluttered against her ribs, and she pressed her palms against her chest, trying to slow its frantic beating.
“Are you alright?” Angler asked.
Her eyes blinked open, and she smiled. “More than alright.” She took a deep, settling breath. “This place … it’s magic.”
It was like nothing she had ever seen or felt before. Towering marble sculptures, delicate-looking sea flowers, and colossal coral that resembled trees.
Lyra devoured the beauty around them, soaking in every detail like a sea sponge. It was like stepping onto land for the first time.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Fang mumbled.
Lyra was struck mute, so she bobbed a nod.
“We’ll set a perimeter. Feel free to explore on your own.”
They spread out, giving her the illusion of privacy as she drifted farther under the giant archway and into the garden. Winding pathways were marked with jewel-colored stones, and she followed the path to the right around the garden.
Something sweet bobbed along the current, and she followed it until she reached the center. A large, silver stone was half buried in the sand. It was polished to a gleaming shine like a reflecting glass.
Lyra swam closer until she saw her reflection in the polished stone. There was something otherworldly about this place. It reminded her of the Valewood, only in an underwater kind of way.
The glass shimmered, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of the summer cottage. But she blinked and saw only herself.
She slowly raised her fingers towards the stone, and could feel her pulse beat slow and steady in them as she reached for it. Her heartbeat mirrored the current, and something powerful wound around her.
She could hear Wilder, his voice, and his scent as if he were standing beside her.
Miles and miles apart, and an ocean held above her, yet it still felt like he was right beside her, watching and waiting.