59. On the Road
Wilder watched as Daisy clung to Lyra. He couldn’t quite grasp how the two of them had become so close in the few short weeks she had been here.
But then again, Daisy saw Lyra much more than he had. And there had been nights when he could hear the two of them staying up until late in the evening, talking and laughing.
“I’ll have more of the chamomile oil for you when you return,” Daisy murmured into Lyra’s hair. She had left it down, and the auburn waves floated up in the wind.
“Thank you, Daisy,” Lyra replied, squeezing the smaller female before letting her go. “Wish me luck!”
Daisy eyed him with a look that said she was well aware he was eavesdropping.
“Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
Wilder rolled his eyes.
“Alright, let’s go. You’re putting us behind with all this female blubbering.”
Lyra whipped her head to his, wrath glowing in her emerald eyes. “Just because you’re not capable of any emotions deeper than arousal doesn’t mean you should spout your stupidity so freely.”
Maelys barked a laugh so loud he thought she was going to tumble off her horse. She covered it with a gasping cough. But the damage to his pride had been done.
He eyed her with contempt, and she shook her head, clutching the reins to her horse and his tighter. Ridge watched the entire interaction from atop his mount with an obviously forced neutrality.
“You wounded me, Legs,” he said, clutching his leather-clad chest with faux sincerity. But he leaned in close to her. Close enough that his breath tickled the curls at her neck. “But you should know my emotional intelligence is immense.”
He enunciated ‘immense’ with innuendo, and her eyes bulged.
Maybe this trip wouldn’t be so bad if he could continue to get under her skin. But the likelihood of the reverse was greater.
Especially when she glared at the carriage and put her hands on her hips like a petulant child.
“I am not riding in that.”
She tapped her booted foot on the ground, and her sky-blue undershirt billowed around her shoulders, giving a feminine quality to her training leathers.
“You have before and were fine.” He pointed to the carriage door.
“I wouldn’t say ‘fine’,” she mumbled under her breath.
His ears picked it up perfectly, but he couldn’t help but goad her. “What was that, Princess?” Before she could retort, Oak, Dust, and Otto appeared. Their horses flicked their ears and swished their tails. Wilder looked around them for Oron. But Otto shook his head.
“Oron’s sister is due to give birth any day now. King Oberon had him replaced with Cyrus.”
Lyra stiffened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Who the hell was Cyrus?
As if his name conjured him up, the dark-haired guard that Wilder detested walked down the front steps of the castle.
“Am I late?”
Oh, this did not bode well.
“You are. Where is your mount?” Wilder asked.
“King Oberon assigned me to carriage duty, Your Highness.”
The hair on the back of Wilder’s neck rose. Especially when Cyrus took a step towards Lyra and she slid her feet apart in a defensive stance.
This was already a disaster.
Crying females, disrespectful and late guards, and now arguments.
“Fine,” he growled. “Cyrus, you can ride my horse for the time being.”
Lyra looked smug when Cyrus glared. But then Wilder spoke again.
“Lyra, you’re in the carriage—with me.”
Her mouth dropped open, but Wilder had already turned on his heel and was opening the carriage door for her.
“Let’s go, Legs. We’re losing daylight.”
She stood still, casting her eyes from person to person. Maelys shrugged and offered her an encouraging smile.
“Come on, Lyra. It’s an adventure.”
Lyra huffed and stomped to the carriage. When Wilder extended his hand to help her up the small step and into the cabin, she pushed his hand away.
He laughed, but inwardly it had stung that she wouldn’t allow him to touch her, even now.
“Maelys, Otto, and Ridge, you three take up the lead. Oak, Dust, and Cyrus follow behind the carriage.”
Wilder was thankful that the carriage was bewitched to follow the lead horse, so that there wasn’t another person to be responsible for on this journey.
It was going to be difficult enough to keep Lyra from arguing every step of the way and to keep himself from killing Cyrus the next time he displayed such casual arrogance towards any person in his guard.
Otto closed his eyes and sighed. “We should reach the Mannereds on time, but I do foresee trouble.”
Wilder heaved a deep breath. Of course, there was going to be trouble.