6. DutyNot
The mermaid was a fool.
A fool to think she could survive in these lands, in any lands alone. They walked in silence away from the corpses. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t ask a question, or point out anything she saw. And it unnerved Wilder.
Yes, she had been annoying before, but this was something else. This was trauma. He scanned her once more, opting to walk beside her now in case this was all a front and she planned on giving him the slip again.
When he had finally noticed her absence, he had never felt such anger or fear. He knew these woods, the terrifying creatures that wandered them, and the loathsome barbarians that had made this place their home.
This was the forest between worlds. Between the elf and human realms. His plan, now futile, had been to keep her scared of him so that she wouldn’t realize the dangerous line they were walking.
Her breath came out in quick pants, her eyes still widened. Her scent had changed, too. It was now drenched in fear. He felt a semblance of guilt. This was his doing, after all.
When she shivered and clutched her chest, he knew adrenaline was taking hold. He knew what that felt like, so he did the only thing he could think to do—talk.
“How did you know all that stuff before?”
He didn’t want the fear taking hold of her too strongly. Then she would pass out, and he would be forced to carry her again for the sake of his mission.
He hadn’t liked how that had felt. It had been too intimate.
She was his enemy, and he didn’t need to feel anything for her at all.
“Books,” she muttered.
He could hear the fluttering that had taken hold of her chest and smell the fear that still pumped through her veins.
Wilder tilted his head at her voice. When she looked up into his eyes, the fluttering slowed and returned to the rhythmic, albeit quick, pumping.
“So, do you like to read?” he asked, scrubbing the back of his neck with an open hand.
She furrowed her brow before answering. “Yes,” she hissed. “What kind of question is that? Why would I read so much if I didn’t like it?”
He turned back to the path to hide the smirk that was blooming on his face.
“I take it you don’t like reading, and that’s why you know nothing?” She said the words as if it offended her that someone could not enjoy reading.
“I prefer having adventures to reading about them.”
“That’s called privilege,” she snapped.
They walked farther on, but her pace had dwindled.
Twigs snapped beneath her feet, and she stumbled more often than not.
But he had done his duty. She was still alive, no longer quaking with fear, and following willingly.
His father would be proud, and maybe that would suffice to get him a few days of freedom.
“Are there more humans like that around here?” Her voice was so small, so timid compared to the haughty arrogance she had been exuding.
Wilder’s face fell into a scowl, and he scanned their surroundings.
“Undoubtedly.” He sniffed and was hit with the scent of unwashed bodies and stale ale that seemed to permeate the men of this forest.
“How do you know?”
Lyra studied him a bit too closely for his liking.
There was something about her eyes. The emerald green color was most unusual, but also the sharpness in them. Like she could see more than what was physically there.
Wilder tapped the side of his nose and continued walking.
He hadn’t bothered to tie her back up, but there hadn’t been a need. For whatever reason, she had seemed to trust his words, or maybe she was smart enough not to run back into the forest after her ordeal.
“You can smell the humans?” she asked as she kept pace with him. Her steps became quicker when she was after information.
“I can scent you, too.”
Lyra stopped. Her eyes grew wide, and he chuckled. He hadn’t been lying when he told her there was no place she could run or hide. Now she believed him.
His next words were quiet because only a small part of him wanted her to know.
“You smell of the sea in a storm.”
That wasn’t the complete truth, but he didn’t know how to explain that it was more powerful than that.
Wilder scanned the forest, breathing in the earth and moss-covered trees. He picked up the fleeting scent of feathers and small critters as they scurried silently around them.
Her scent sang to him, and he should have known the moment it faded to a whisper that she had escaped. But he had been relieved that its grip on him had loosened.
“You smell too,” Lyra replied, stepping close to him again and shivering as the breeze floated by.
His brows hit his hairline. “I do?”
She grinned maliciously. “Yeah. Terribly so.” She gripped her nose with her fingers and waved a hand in front of her face.
A laugh nearly bubbled out of him, but he tamped it down.
His enemy.
She was his enemy, he reminded himself again.
“Let’s go, Legs.”
Wilder stomped through the knee-high ferns, and Lyra scurried after him, throwing cautious glances around her.
“Where is your guard meeting us?”
Wilder didn’t answer her, and a pout plumped her bottom lip.
“Why were you ordered to kidnap me?”
Wilder’s broad shoulders seemed to grow wider as he flexed them under the weight of that question. He shifted his rucksack once more.
“You’re back to asking questions.”
“I am.”
“My father requires your presence. I’m following orders.”
“But why does he want me? And why, you? Don’t you have a royal guard or paid kidnappers?”
That was a very astute question. But it led to even larger questions that he had.
“I don’t know what he wants from you.”
“And?” she prodded.
“And we do have a guard to complete this task. But I am the best,” Wilder replied.
He didn’t say it arrogantly, but Lyra still snorted.
“Best at kidnapping females? My, my, what a reputation you have, Princeling.”
Her biting wit and sneer had Wilder hiding another smirk.
She was resilient. He’d give her that much. She had faced a horror most females don’t walk away from, and it had only knocked her down a peg or two.
But it was her darting eyes that gave her away, and the constant twisting of the sapphire charm on the end of her necklace. Lyra could feign normalcy all she’d like, but he could smell her fear even now.
It made the smell of the sea sharper, like lingering salt on dried skin. But he would play along. The sooner she was back to normal, the sooner this would all be over, and he’d never have to see her again.
He truly didn’t know the plans his father had for her. Wilder had only been instructed to escort the Princess, alive, to the Wilds. And that’s what he would do. First, he had to get her there, and the safest way to do that was to meet up with his crew in Fresia.
“It’s a two-day trek to the village where we’re to meet them, and we have to skirt the human capital. I know it’s impossible for you, but to keep us from running into any more ruffians—shut your mouth.”
“Why do we have to skirt the human capital?”
“Because no creature sets foot in Badenvaria. Now, please—silence.”