21. Sleeping Beauty
After he had told her the story of the three sisters, Lyra had turned inward and remained that way. She didn’t look up when they made it through the swamp, and from what he could tell, she didn’t even look at the Valewood as they entered its southern border.
It confused him because the forest here was more majestic than the mortal forest she marveled at, and the eerie swamp she studied with ravenous curiosity.
He hadn’t thought he had been rude to her; he even explained when she asked questions, but now, in her silence, he rethought every word he had spoken to her.
He had told her their names, what species they were, and about balance.
Nothing out of that was opinion-based or delivered with sarcasm.
But she had disliked something he had said.
They passed a group of trolls that strolled with a sluggish gait around burrows. Their hunched and moss-covered figures blended into the forest completely. He was astonished that Lyra didn’t react or comment on their presence. Maybe she didn’t see them?
They traveled with speed through the Valewood, passing forest nymphs dancing through trees, their willowy limbs ethereal with their movements. He glimpsed a flock of pixies next, whose glittering wings tinkled and trilled their tiny bodies as they moved out of their path.
It had been quite a while since they had stopped for her to stretch or for the horses to rest. Maybe if they did that, then he could figure out what perturbed her. Slowing their horses, Wilder raised a fist in the air so that the others would stop. Lyra still didn’t move.
When the horse came to a complete stop, he slid off first and turned to reach for her hand. To find her asleep.
This whole time, he had worried that he had offended her, and she was merely sleeping. He cleared his throat, and she stirred.
“Did you need to stretch?”
She tilted her head to the sky and yawned, stretching her arms up as well. He couldn’t help but watch. The moonlight cast the profile of her face in white, glittering light as it filtered through the canopy of jewel-colored trees.
“Mhm,” she murmured, covering her mouth with her hand and yawning again.
Wilder raised his hand higher in the offering. She stared at it before throwing her feet over the other side of the horse and sliding down opposite him. She grimaced in pain when her feet hit the ground. He almost rolled his eyes, but he felt Otto watching him. So he stalked away.
He made a mental note to ask Otto if he saw anything of value later, but first, he needed to clear his head and check the perimeter of their rest stop.
Wilder could hear Lyra trudging through the forest. An explosion would have been quieter. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped. He would need to teach her to walk with some stealth in the future, lest she give away their position every time.
When her walking stopped, he sighed and closed his eyes. Wilder listened to the forest at night and inhaled deeply. There was nothing out of the ordinary, thankfully. Nevertheless, he stood there and strained his ears for anything at all.
Someone had been following them, someone had known where they were and who they had. It didn’t mean it was someone in his court who had spilled secrets. It could have very well been an informant in her court, maybe even the same one who had told his father who and where she was.
Neither clan had caught up to them yet. The forest stayed quiet. But they shouldn’t dally too long. They were still days from the Wilds border—to safety.
Purposeful footsteps thudded behind him, and he turned to see Ridge, his arms crossed over his muscled chest.
“We’re ready.”
Wilder nodded and turned back towards the forest once more.
“What do you think is happening with the wulvers?” Ridge asked.
Wilder shrugged. “Someone got them to work together in their pursuit of Lyra. I don’t know who could be capable of that.”
Ridge’s arms slipped to his side as he squeezed his hands into fists. “Titania?”
Wilder shook his head.
The Queen of the Mannereds had worked tirelessly for an alliance, and she was kind.
He hadn’t scented a rotten bone in her body when he had met her, which was unusual.
Rulers in power often had ulterior motives.
Not Titania. She had only wanted peace for her people and did what no ruler of the Mannereds had ever done before—formed an alliance with the Wilds.
“No, this came from inside. My order came directly from my father. So we need to find out who else knew.”
Ridge’s jaw clenched. “We have a traitor?”
Wilder turned and stalked towards Ridge, pausing at his side. “It appears we do.”
Along with his powers of growth and life, Ridge had an affinity for sniffing out weaknesses. Wilder would use that to his advantage. Especially when it came to the livelihood of the court.
“I will find them.”
“See that you do. But first, we need to get Lyra to the border.”
Ridge nodded, and the violence that danced in his eyes waned. “I know how you feel, but there’s something about her …”
Wilder’s eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“I haven’t been able to puzzle it out yet. But she’s different from what I was expecting from a mermaid. She’s … pure.”
“Pure? You mean not evil?”
“Sure—not evil. Whatever you want to call it. But I sense no corruption within her. Despite her sharp tongue.” Ridge chuckled.
Just because she wasn’t evil didn’t mean she wasn’t a threat. But it was still comforting to know she wasn’t completely corrupted.
“Let me know when you complete that puzzle.”
Ridge nodded, and they turned as one and headed back for the horses. Tension settled along Wilder’s shoulders as he strode back to Lyra.
No, she wasn’t evil, but that power was unfathomable.
That wasn’t the measly gift of song that was known for her kind. It had entranced him.
Lyra was so powerful, she could control rulers.