42. Girl Power
Wilder materialized from the shadows of the willow tree and stood behind his mother. There hadn’t been a second he had missed of Lyra’s training the past week, and although Maelys was trying her best, she just couldn’t get anywhere with it.
A strong breeze blew in from behind him, and his mother stiffened.
“Wilder,” she addressed him without turning around.
It hadn’t been windy all day. He looked around the training ground, spotting Dust and Oak grinning at him. Either one of them could have stirred the wind on purpose. Meddling fools.
“Mother,” he replied.
“Has her training improved?”
“No.”
She clicked her tongue, and the ladies around her shifted nervously, hoping her annoyance wasn’t with them. It didn’t matter where his mother went.
There was always a gaggle of those preening courtiers vying for her favor. It annoyed him on her behalf—he didn’t know how she could stand it.
“And you don’t think it would benefit the kingdom for you to step in?”
There it was.
The very thought he had been avoiding the past week, watching her fail over and over. Magic demanded balance.
What the merfolk and humans had agreed to was an abomination. It was a wonder the very fabric of their world wasn’t unraveling because of it. The sooner they could undo it—the better.
“I will not get involved,” he said under his breath.
His father was keeping secrets, dangerous secrets. If he didn’t respect Wilder enough to share the details, then Wilder would not be involved in this scheme.
“I see your pride is still intact,” his mother said, turning to gaze at him at last. “Would you consider your pride above your duty to this kingdom?”
Wilder could feel his anger rising. Every second of every day since he had returned, he had put this kingdom above his own needs. For her to insinuate such a thing was an incredulous offense.
“Nothing to say?” She arched a well-manicured brow. “Fine, then. What if I told you her survival depends on you helping her?”
Wilder rolled his eyes. Why she thought he would care about the life of a single mermaid was beyond him. But when he didn’t answer, she pressed on.
“You should ask Otto what the outlook is. I know you refuse to hear your future, but you should at least hear hers.”
It took a lot of power and focus for Otto to see far into the future. Which meant it was important to him—or his mother.
“Why do you care, Mother?”
Aine looked across the grounds to where Lyra was laughing with Maelys as she tried to skip.
“Such innocence in a creature we’ve been told was monstrous. Don’t you think?”
Wilder had followed her gaze and found himself entranced by her all over again.
Lyra wore a sleeveless training top, and it showed off the delicate lines of her arms. Her auburn hair gleamed scarlet in the sunlight, and his chest tightened.
“I would like to see her live. Find out what she is capable of, and the rest of her kind. The females there deserve more.”
He couldn’t argue with that. The mermen of her kingdom sounded like the monsters everyone claimed. Keeping their females uneducated and weak. It was a wonder they didn’t keep them locked up.
Lyra and Maelys began stretching, and Wilder tried to avert his eyes. But her hair blew around her face in the breeze, and she closed her eyes, tipping her face up to the clear sky.
His mother was right; there was an innocence to her. He had noticed it when she had smelled the flowers or marveled at the birds in flight. Not a second of her time on land had been taken for granted. Even though she claimed it had all been against her will.
Queen Aine sighed and watched as they broke away from stretching, and Lyra was attempting to draw the string back on a bow.
Dust and Oak were now standing beside Maelys and giving Lyra instructions.
They had been at this for the last two days. Wilder had picked up exactly what was hindering her from pulling the string back, but the others hadn’t. They said pleasant words of encouragement and clapped when she pulled it back an inch.
But Lyra was a fire that needed to burn.
Their kindness was water dousing her flames. She hadn’t been raised with kindness; therefore, she didn’t know how to react to it.
She needed air to fan her flames—hot air.
Queen Aine winced when Lyra’s fingers slipped off the bowstring, and it slapped her forearm.
A bright red welt bloomed on her porcelain skin, but it was the silver scars on her biceps that Wilder noticed when she held her arm up to look.
There wasn’t a thought in his mind, only the roaring of blood in his ears. He stalked past his mother and her retinue and across the grounds.
“I have it,” Maelys said as he approached.
His glower silenced her.
Gripping Lyra’s arm, he turned her biceps towards him to get a better look at the silver scars. Talons. Talons had left those on her flesh.
“Who did this?” he growled. Lyra tugged on her arm and glared at him.
“It’s none of your business,” she spat back, ripping her arm from his grip and darting her eyes around at the people gathered.
She had been trying to hide her scars, and he had pointed them out in front of everyone. He was a fool. A stupid, thoughtless fool.
“Pick up the bow.” She flinched at his tone, but obeyed. “Grip it tightly.”
“Wilder, she’s been—” Oak started.
“Silence.”
Oak’s head lowered as he pressed his lips together.
Lyra trembled; the ferocity coming off of Wilder in waves was alarming her.
“You pick up that bow and pull the gods damn string back. Stop fucking about. You’re not weak or helpless. If you don’t learn how to defend yourself, you will end up with more scars, or you will die.”
Her lip trembled, but there was a storm building in her emerald eyes, and the way she clenched her teeth seemed to staunch the fear coursing through her.
Fury pumped through her now, and he could smell it. It shifted her scent from the ocean to something darker, like tempestuous storms.
Lyra closed her eyes and pulled on the string.
“You are not weak,” he said. The string came back farther. “You are not helpless.” Farther and farther she pulled it, letting her anger give her strength.
“Let go,” he whispered.
She did.
The arrow flew, thudding right outside the lines on the target. She hadn’t even been close to the bullseye, but that wasn’t his goal. His only goal had been to get her to pull the fucking string back.
Lyra opened her eyes and stared, wide-eyed at the target, and then at the bow in her hands. The happiness in her gaze was enough to stop his heart from beating. But he nodded and turned on his heel.
“Stop coddling her,” he ordered Maelys.
Maelys glared at him but didn’t argue.
He had gotten further with Lyra in two minutes than she had in days. Satisfied with himself, he stalked off the training grounds and back to the castle.
He needed to find a way to get Lyra out of his system—and quickly.