35. Books & Elixir
She was a thing of beauty. No, she was the epitome of beauty.
The navy gown hugged her curves and pooled at her feet.
As if the ocean wrapped her in its dark and lovely embrace.
They walked side-by-side to his parents’ private dining chamber.
This dinner was not expected to be pleasant, and he was already dreading the vitriol that would spew from her mouth the moment she felt offended.
“Try to be pleasant, and this evening will pass swiftly,” he said to her.
Guards walked in front and behind them. His usual escort increased due to her. It felt unnecessary now after having seen her at training. She was the furthest thing from a danger. It would be more likely she would injure herself if she tried to hurt anyone else.
“I will be if they are.”
He cut his attention to her once more, and he noticed how her gown was lavishly intricate.
She no doubt would fit in with the courtiers here.
Except there was the glaring absence of any jewelry.
Besides the sapphire necklace she never took off.
She was without earrings, a necklace, or bracelets. He frowned at that.
“Fine. I’ll try my best,” she grumbled, misreading his frown.
He shook his head. “That’s not—never mind.”
The guards stationed on either side of the black, arched door held it open for them. He had been in this room more times than he could count. His mother preferred an intimate dinner, just the three of them, and not the extravagant dinners in the dining hall that his father enjoyed.
There was a time he wondered why that was, but as he got older, he realized his father needed that show of power. To have courtiers fawning over him.
Wilder did not care what the courtiers thought of him, at least, not anymore. It was empty, their praise and love. It would turn to hate and repulsion within the blink of an eye.
But it was Lyra’s first time in their private chambers, and although he had grown accustomed to the room, he remembered the magic of it.
Gleaming evergreen marble, lavish moldings, paintings spanning centuries of monarchs and his ancestors, and books.
The books were, without a doubt, his favorite part of the room, and would be Lyra’s, too.
Colossal bookshelves that required rolling ladders lined an entire wall.
She thirsted for knowledge, and while he told her he would rather live the adventures, he enjoyed a good story.
Lyra jerked to a stop, her mouth dropping open as she stared at the wall of bookshelves. Wilder stopped with her, one hand in his pocket, and enjoyed her mute surprise.
“You eat in a library?” she asked, when she could formulate words.
He chuckled and straightened the lapels of his black jacket. “This isn’t the royal library, just my parents’ private chambers.”
She gawked at him now. “This isn’t the library?”
Wilder shook his head and gestured for her to keep up.
“This would take me a hundred lifetimes to read,” she whispered.
He shrugged. That was kind of the point. “Elves have considerable lifetimes.”
And from what he remembered, the merfolk did too, but murder and sabotage ran rampant in their courts, and lives were often cut short.
“Darlings,” his mother greeted them.
She was already sitting on her usual side of the table. Her gown was the same lilac shade as the twilight hour, an ode to her favorite time of day. It was when she did her best thinking, she claimed.
King Oberon sat at the head of the table, watching them approach with a keen eye. Wilder could feel him gauging the distance between their bodies, the near matching of their ensembles, but if he cared—he didn’t let on.
“Lyra, Wilder,” he greeted them with a boorish tone.
Lyra inclined her head in greeting to them both but did not deign to reply.
Wilder held the chair opposite his mother out for Lyra, and as she took her seat, he whispered low into her ear, “Be pleasant.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed the napkin beside her golden plate. She flapped it obnoxiously before placing it in her lap.
Wilder heaved a sigh and took his place opposite his father.
“How was your first training, my dear?” Aine asked her, a smirk quirking her lips.
“Abysmal,” Lyra complained.
His father shot him a look as Aine chuckled.
“I hope Wilder wasn’t the cause of such despair.”
A dangerous gleam entered Lyra’s eyes, but she blinked and it was gone.
“No, unfortunately, he is an excellent mentor. Especially with this being my first time.”
All eyes turned to Lyra as she took a sip from her water goblet.
“First time?” Oberon asked.
Lyra nodded and set the glass back down. “I’ve never done any physical activity before. It’s not allowed.”
He had never seen his mother look that way. Her nostrils flared wide, and she clutched the diamond choker that wrapped around her neck. She was horrified.
“It’s not allowed?”
“Nope.” Lyra pronounced the “P” like a pop. “There is no need for physical activity outside of labor in the home. Females don’t have jobs.“
“That is quite a strange societal construct,” Oberon said.
Lyra glanced around the room before answering him. “One could say that.”
“And what would you say?” Aine prompted with a tilted head and arched brow.
Lyra shrugged. “It’s not for me to say.”
“You mean you’re not allowed an opinion.” Lyra frowned at that. “Tell me, child, why do you want to go back?”
And there it was, the most obvious question.
“Because it is my choice,” Lyra replied. “I didn’t have one in coming here. And I don’t enjoy being where I’m not wanted.”
Wilder couldn’t stop the laugh that rumbled out of him. “And you believe you’re wanted there?”
“Wilder!” his mother admonished
But Lyra didn’t balk at his retort. This was a language she understood.
“It’s my home. It’s where I belong.” She glared at Wilder but twisted the napkin in her lap.
“I miss the steady pull of the current that matched the beating of my heart, my friends, and the familiarity.” She looked down.
“And unfortunately, I missed my wedding. I do hope my fiancé isn’t too furious with me, since it wasn’t my fault. ”
Aine’s head volleyed back and forth through their exchange. But his father didn’t look away from Lyra.
“There’s so much fire in her for her to be from the water,” he said.
Wilder only nodded. She had surprised him, carving out an opinion of herself in their minds in a few brief moments.
Yet, he still didn’t know how he truly saw her or felt. But something about how she had talked about her home led him to believe she wasn’t being truthful—again.
At last, their dinner was served. Roasted meat over a bed of fresh greens. It wasn’t an extravagant meal, but it was delicious.
Lyra dug in with the ferocity of someone who hadn’t eaten in several days. When she stopped chewing long enough to sip her water, she studied the bookshelves before digging back into her food.
After they finished their meal and were waiting for dessert, the silence was broken again.
“Lyra, do you like to read?” Aine asked after catching her reading some spines behind her.
A blush bloomed high on Lyra’s cheeks, causing blood to roar in his ears. It quieted in time for him to hear her reply.
“Very much so.”
Aine nodded and smiled. “Wilder, be a dear and escort her to the library after dinner. Let her pick out anything her heart desires.”
Wilder’s shoulders rose with his agitated breath, but Lyra beamed at his mother.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Aine waved her off. “There’s no need for formalities. Lest we not forget why you’re here.” She shot a look at Oberon, who was conscious enough to look bashful. “We will do our best to make your time here pleasant, no matter the circumstances that brought you here.”
So, his mother was still not on board with this plan. It was unlike her to be this open about her disagreement, which told him everything he needed to know about her attitude towards his father.
Wilder was relieved. It was about time she had shown her backbone more quickly when the mood arose.
He had only wished she had done the same—for him.
“How did you know about the Tidal Tithe?” Lyra asked, sliding her gaze to Oberon.
He blinked at her direct question. “An informant.”
“Of which court?” She circled a fingertip along the rim of her water goblet.
He smiled at her and gestured for the servant to bring out dessert.
A slice of cake was placed in front of each of them, and Lyra stared at it.
“It’s cake,” Wilder supplied.
“But we just ate.”
He cut a piece off the corner of the chocolate cake with lavender mousse and put it in his mouth. Lyra watched with a blank expression as he swallowed it down.
“This is dessert. It comes after dinner.”
She looked around the table to see Oberon and Aine eating their slices.
“Don’t tell me you have never had dessert before?” Aine asked, dabbing a smudge of the mousse off the corner of her lip.
Lyra shook her head and picked up her fork.
“Hang on,” Wilder said, and set down his fork. “I want to watch this.”
Lyra glared at him but waited until he was settled. She lifted a bite and sniffed it before placing it in her mouth.
Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and she covered her mouth with a hand.
“Oh my gods.”
Aine, Wilder, and even Oberon chuckled.
“Why don’t you just eat this?” she asked, shoving another forkful in her mouth.
“It’s not very nutritious and won’t help you recover after training,” Wilder answered.
“Not to mention it’s catastrophic to the waistline,” his mother added.
Lyra waved his mother off with her empty fork. “Who cares about waistlines when there is cake?”
Aine smiled, a broad, genuine smile at Lyra. “That is an excellent point.”
After Lyra had devoured not only her cake, but also Wilder’s, which he slid towards her, Oberon poured his evening elixir. He lifted the bottle in offering to Wilder, who nodded. The amber liquid was smoothly poured into the crystal glass.
A guard with black hair slipped into their chambers and handed Oberon a slip of paper, which he took with a nod. The guard strode out of the room without a word.