47. The Fourth
Lyra watched as Wilder’s eyes brightened with his laugh, and then his shoulders relaxed.
What unbearable pressure must he be under if he had offered her a deal to enjoy the next few days?
It must be very important to him, this time off, for him to have been willing to be vulnerable with her, of all people.
She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He didn’t take his duty lightly, and it showed in the tightened lines around his eyes and mouth. She hadn’t noticed it until after they made their deal, when he had suddenly appeared youthful and relaxed.
He had always been beautiful, but now—now it was heart-achingly apparent.
“So, a canoe ride through the Three Sisters?”
He nodded and continued to smile.
“I’ve never ridden in a canoe before.”
His eyebrows rose with surprise. “Are you serious?”
“Mhm. Haven’t had the chance. Fins and all.” She shrugged.
Wilder stared at her, and a divot formed between his brows.
“We’ll be on the water. You should be fine.”
Lyra shrugged and continued to watch the rolling, highlands drift by outside her window.
“You’re not worried, are you?” Wilder asked, struggling to understand what she was not saying.
When she didn’t respond, he leaned forward and tapped her knee.
“We called a truce, Legs. What are you not telling me?”
Her eyes burned, and she bit her lip before returning his gaze. She didn’t know if she was capable of doing it, of being his friend. But for any amount of freedom, she would try.
“Truce?” she whispered.
He sat back and nodded.
“I miss the water.”
His mouth opened before snapping shut and then opening again.
“We’ll go to the sea on the east side of the kingdom, then. There’s a place there I think you might appreciate.”
She sat up straighter at his words, and her heart fluttered against his ribs at his offer. The sea. She would get to see the sea.
“We can?”
Wilder nodded as if that settled the matter, but then muttered. “Of course. This is your opportunity for freedom, too, Lyra.”
She smiled, feeling the weight on her chest lessen. She would get to smell the ocean. Maybe even dip her toes into the water to feel its lost embrace.
This wouldn’t be an entirely awful trip, then, after all.
They traveled in silence for some time. Lyra tried to keep her multitude of questions to herself and allow Wilder some time to breathe.
It had been a good idea—this truce.
But she had so many questions now. Like, why had they avoided traveling through the kingdom? She would have liked to have seen it since she was unconscious on the way in. But maybe that had been the point? They didn’t want her to know everything. She was still the enemy.
She made a mental note to ask Wilder if they could travel through the city on their way back in. Lyra found herself extremely curious about how the elves lived in relation to each other.
They were all different. Whereas the merfolk were all the same.
The sun rose higher outside her window, but the land around them became cooler. A slight fog crept up from the ground, and there was a thickness to the air here. Trees loomed with widened trunks like the shape of a fan, and the carriage slowed.
Wilder sighed, and when the carriage came to a full stop, he clambered out of the coach and outstretched his hand to her.
Lyra stuck her head out before wrapping her fingers around his. It felt strange here, but a good strange—familiar somehow.
“Do you feel it?” he asked when she held his hand and did not take a step to the ground.
She nodded. It felt as if the land were alive and watching her.
“You’re safe here,” he murmured. It put her fears to rest, and she took a step and then another.
It was like a wall of dense green. It clung to the trees, floated in patches on the clear water, and fluttered in the wind. Nothing but a deep, vibrant green. The green of new life and the dark green of ancient life twining together.
The ground beneath her slippers squelched, and she grimaced.
She was not prepared for a trek through the swamp, and when she wobbled on her slippery shoes, Wilder grabbed hold of her hand to steady her.
“I’m not dressed for this new adventure,” she muttered, tugging on his hand when she almost fell again.
“I’ll hold on to this just in case,” he replied, lifting their conjoined hands.
They walked towards the river a few steps before he stopped.
Standing beside her and gripping her hand, he breathed deeply.
She watched as his eyes slid closed and his shoulders heaved with a deep breath.
His skin seemed to glow a deeper gold with each of his breaths, like the magic was filling him from within.
When his eyes opened, they seemed brighter than the sky above the low-hanging clouds.
“There’s usually a canoe off the bank, but we’ll walk until we find one,” he said to her before turning to the servant who had driven the carriage. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
They set off together hand in hand, and it didn’t feel strange to her. Almost as if they had done this before, but it was refreshing nonetheless.
She swung their hands as they walked and looked around with curiosity. Wilder had a lightness to his gait compared to his usual tromping, and a small grin pulled up his lips.
Lyra tried not to marvel at the changes in him, but it was difficult. So she opted for conversation.
“You said the swamp was named after the three original sisters?”
Wilder smirked at her question. No doubt prepared for her encroaching onslaught of curiosity.
“Yes. But some claim there was a fourth sister and that her story was lost to time.”
Lyra jolted to a stop, and their conjoined hands yanked Wilder to a halt as well.
“A missing sister?”
Wilder chuckled at the look of horror that contorted her face.
“Not just a lost sister, but a lost brother, too.”
“Alright, now you’re making stuff up. How does history forget two gods?”
Wilder’s brow furrowed, and they continued walking again.
“I didn’t say they were gods. How did you know that?”
Lyra shrugged. “I merely assumed. The three original sisters were all goddesses, weren’t they?”
“Eventually.”
“So, who were the missing ones?”
Wilder pressed his lips into a thin line to stop himself from chuckling.
“Wait. You’re telling me you haven’t read about this yet?” He teased.
She shook her head, and her auburn locks glimmered in the light filtering through the dense canopy of trees and the darkening clouds.
It was a rather peaceful day.
They passed an old Sweetbay magnolia on the bank. It had the largest white flowers she had ever seen. The petals were wider than her hands, and she reached up to delicately trace the bloom.
Dainty wildflowers circled the tree. Their blossoms in shades of blue and violet.
Wilder picked her one. Lyra blushed and then frowned.
“Won’t it die now?”
Wilder stepped beside her. “The flowers here survive on air and not water.”
A knock sounded from behind the tree.
“What was that?” Lyra asked.
Wilder peered around the wide trunk. “We’re in luck.”
The bow of a canoe bumped against the trunk with the bobbing current.
Water lapped up onto the shore, rocking the boat as he tugged it closer for her to step in. He held her hand, and as she stepped into the hull, she gripped his fingers tightly to avoid falling overboard.
“Easy, Legs,” he murmured.
When Lyra had settled on board, she fluffed out her dress and then her hair. Wilder settled in front of her and used the oar to launch them from the shore and into the lazy water. Water rippled around them, and she stared at it with longing.
“The missing siblings?” she prompted him.
He paddled them deeper into the swamp. The moss on the trees seemed to reach for them, and he cleared his throat.
“So you know of the three brothers. Alfor, Ennosidas, and Fionn. When they arrived in this world, the land was already inhabited by the sisters. Mab, Tiandra, Aradia, and the fourth sister whose name is no longer known.”
Lyra tried to quiet the roaring in her mind as she dipped her fingers in the water. Those females had been wiped from their history completely.
A bird flew overhead, its rustle of wings interrupting his words as she stared after it.
She peered at him, waiting for him to begin again, and he gazed back. An unreadable moment passed between them. She felt as if she knew him. Not in this moment, but in another time, another life. There was something about him she knew as intrinsically as she knew herself.
“And?” she prompted.
Wilder shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and paddled some more. She could see his shoulders ripple beneath his charcoal tunic.
“The sisters sent their fourth sister as a delegate to speak to the newcomers. She was the oldest and wisest of them all. But the brothers did not receive her kindly. They were here to conquer and claim. It did not matter to them that the world was already occupied.”
Lyra gulped, sensing the conflict in the story was approaching.
“But the fourth brother …”
She gripped the edge of the boat, and her knuckles turned white.
“They were soulmates,” Wilder explained. “Their souls are tied together through the tapestry of fate that weaves the entire universe.”
Lyra’s eyes widened with surprise, and her lips parted with a gasp. “Soulmates?”
“Of course,” he hummed. “The three other brothers planned to strike her down and then kill the rest of the sisters, exerting their power over the realm. But the fourth brother could not raise a hand against her any more than he could against his brothers. He took the sister for his own, their bond slipping into place, tying them together forever. When the oldest sister did not return, her sisters became worried and came looking for her. They found three brothers and expected the worst, of course.”
Lyra nodded and worried her bottom lip. “And then what happened?”
Wilder paddled their boat underneath the roots of a giant cypress tree. The branches of the ancient tree stretched far and wide. He looked up as they passed underneath, and Lyra followed suit. Seeing thousands of years of life resting above her head.
She swallowed audibly and then sighed with relief when they passed through unscathed.
“They appeared and told their siblings what had happened. This land demanded balance. That magic was balance. And in doing so, created the foundation for our world. Each brother, a sister. Each partnership, a land. Ennosidas and Tiandra ruled over the merfolk. Alfor and Aradia, the mortals, and Fionn and Mab, the elves.”
Lyra’s eyes sparkled in the watery light, and a rush of emotions coursed through her. The world demanded balance, and yet—she was not raised that way. The ocean was ruled by men. Knowledge of Tiandra had been stripped away.
“What of the fourth brother and sister? Where are they?”
Wilder smiled a sad smile and looked around at the swamp, and then up into the sky.
“I was always told that they became the sun and the moon. Watching over the world that they had saved. Sharing an eternity in the sky.”
It was bewitching and gut-wrenching, this story of his.
“But do they ever get to see each other?” Lyra whispered, her eyes burning again.
“Of course,” Wilder replied. “But it’s just an old legend. Who knows if it’s true?”
He shrugged and kept paddling them down the winding, lazy river. Lyra leaned her side against the wooden bow of their canoe and watched as the Three Sisters came alive around them.
Turtles were perched on large river stones, napping in the sun that filtered through. Otters splashed along the banks, chattering as they played. An egret gracefully dunked its bill in the water and walked with long strides through the marsh.
It was full of life and buzzing energy, even if the water seemed anything but. It was idle and calm.
“I see why you like it here,” Lyra muttered.
Wilder nodded and prodded them farther along. He seemed happy here and settled.
“I think you will enjoy the willow more.”
She watched a turtle slide off the rock and into the water with a splash.
“Why?”
Wilder watched her, and a knowing smile tugged on his lips.
“It’s a good place to read. Under the branches that sway in the breeze. It blocks out the entire world.”
Lyra grinned back at him. “It sounds lovely.”