62. Find Your Mark
Lyra felt disconnected from her limbs. She didn’t know if she preferred that over the usual ache her legs gave her, but when she tried to move her arms and couldn’t, fear overtook her.
She fought with everything she had, thrashing about in her mind, to get them to move a fraction. The numbness gave way, and then she really was thrashing around in the close confines of the carriage.
“Lyra!” Maelys yelled, gripping her as firmly as she could without injuring her. “It’s alright!”
Lyra stilled, but her chest still heaved with each breath.
Maelys slid from the bench across from Lyra to the vacant seat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She shushed her with a tenderness that made Lyra’s chest ache.
The slow, gentle pats on her arm had her leaning into Maelys’ embrace.
“Was it a nightmare?” Maelys asked.
Lyra shook her head, and tears trailed down her cheeks before plopping onto her lap.
“I don’t know what happened. I just couldn’t move,” Lyra whispered.
She glanced up then to see the blackness of night outside the carriage window. She had been sleeping all day?
“Do you remember anything before you fell asleep?”
Lyra shook her head. She remembered speaking to Wilder and then dozing off, and then a flash of something, and then nothing. Nothing at all.
“Do you remember Wilder being in the carriage?”
Lyra nodded and sank deeper into Maelys’ embrace.
“What about Cyrus?”
Lyra flinched at those words and out of Maelys’ arms. There was a flash of dark hair and a sneer, but nothing else.
“Not really,” Lyra whispered.
Maelys’ eyes narrowed in a way that promised violence.
“I need you to tell me everything you remember. A smell, a sound, anything at all.”
Lyra closed her eyes and then wanted to vomit. There had been an unusual smell …
“There was a sharp smell—” Lyra began.
Maelys tore out of the carriage, and the door slammed against the side.
Lyra blinked, staring outside into the night. From the glow of the fire, she could see Maelys hurtling towards Cyrus.
“You son of a—” she screamed at him, pulling a dagger from the holster at her thigh.
In a single heartbeat, Maelys had kicked him off the stump he was sitting on and had her boot pressed against his throat.
“Maelys!” Wilder yelled. “What are you doing?”
Ridge was already at Maelys’ side, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
Otto sat still and blinked.
“Wilder …” he breathed. “Don’t.”
Wilder whipped his head back and forth.
“Someone explain. Now.”
“He. Drugged. Her.” Maelys pointed at Cyrus’ chest.
Lyra gripped the side of the carriage and pulled herself out. Her legs wobbled, and she locked her knees to remain upright.
“What?” she whispered, clutching her chest with her other hand.
She watched as Maelys removed her boot and Ridge pulled Cyrus to his feet.
Wilder approached like a shadow over the moon. He was terrifying. Wrath twisted his features into a nightmare come to life.
“Is this true?” he snarled in Cyrus’ face.
“She shouldn’t still be here!” Cyrus yelled, pulling against the wall that was Ridge.
Otto stood, dropping the bowl of food onto the ground.
“Wilder,” he called. “They’re coming.”
Cyrus smiled, and it was more vicious than anything she had ever seen before. “He wants her back.”
And there it was.
The traitor in the Wilds Kingdom—Cyrus.
“Who wants her back?” Wilder asked, pointing at Lyra.
Cyrus continued to grin a maniacal grin. Maelys stepped closer, pointing her blade at his throat.
Ridge pulled Cyrus by the hair, baring his throat to Maelys’ blade.
“Who. Wants. Her. Back.” Maelys growled each word like she was conjuring a spell.
Cyrus closed his eyes and smiled broadly.
The howls grew closer, springing up around them in a circular pattern. Lyra’s legs wobbled, and her throat dried out.
There must be at least ten of them, which meant they were outnumbered, and with her still recovering from being drugged, she would be more of a hindrance than a help.
Maelys nicked Cyrus’ throat with her blade. A drop of darkened blood welled up and dribbled down the strong column of his throat.
His eyes flashed open, and he opened his mouth.
“She’s his, and he will take her. He will—”
Goosebumps erupted on Lyra’s exposed skin, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. But Cyrus never got the chance to finish.
Maelys split his throat from ear to ear at the same time Wilder lunged forward, piercing his heart.
They had both killed him—for her.
Wilder turned and looked at her. There was something unreadable on his face.
But when Maelys looked at her, there was only pure rage, not at Lyra, but at what had been done to her.
“I am sorry,” Wilder began, stepping closer to her. “I should have realized.” His voice cracked.
Otto, Maelys, and Ridge stared wide-eyed at him.
Tears welled in Lyra’s eyes when he reached a hand out towards her face. He froze, not daring to touch her without her permission first. When she nodded, he sighed, and his fingertips grazed her cheek.
“I need you to get in the carriage and stay there until I call for you. Do you understand?” His voice was low, an order to be obeyed.
“I can—can try to …” Lyra began.
“No. You will stay in that carriage. I will not ask you to meddle with powers you have no control over. We can handle this without you.”
The howls grew closer now, and Lyra could see Wilder’s pupils narrow in the dim light.
Dust and Oak shifted in her peripheral view, their armor glinting in the moonlight.
“Get in the carriage. Stay there,” Wilder commanded.
Maelys gripped Lyra under her elbow.
“Here, I’ll help you in.”
Lyra acquiesced and let Maelys tug her back to safety. She wobbled on her feet but did not fall.
The carriage door creaked open as Maelys held it for Lyra to slip inside.
“Take this,” Maelys said, holding out the dagger she had killed Cyrus with. “If someone other than us breaches those doors, I implore you to use it if you won’t use your power.”
Lyra took it, and her bottom lip quivered. It was more dangerous than she thought if Maelys was arming her.
“I know you know how to use it. Aim for the soft bits and the major arteries. Neck, thighs, and even the wrists if they reach for you, okay?”
Lyra nodded, still staring at the dagger in her grip.
“If it comes down to it—you need to save yourself first, Lyra. Do you understand?”
With those words, Lyra’s head whipped up. A question bubbled up, but popped with the slamming of the door.
She couldn’t hear anything outside the carriage. It had fallen inexplicably silent.
There was not a clang of metal, a crack of a twig, or even the whistle of wind. It’s as if the entire world had fallen away outside.
All she could hear was the roaring in her ears and the heaving of her breath.
Lyra thought through all the worst-case scenarios. What would happen to her if they all died? That thought made her hands shake. She couldn’t lose all of them. That damage would be irreparable.
Her pounding heart and burning lungs were nothing compared to the fear that sliced through every part of her. And that’s when it hit her.
Maelys was standing out there, Ridge, Otto, Dust, and Oak. They were all out there protecting her.
Wilder was out there, facing his worst fears—for her.
He was standing between her and creatures who had held him hostage and tortured him for a decade. Fury burned through her, staining her vision crimson.
Lyra stared down at the dagger gripped in her hand.
The nothingness that was coming from outside set her teeth on edge.
Slow and steady, she squared her shoulders, preparing herself for what she would face on the other side of the carriage door.
The thread of magic flared within her, and she brushed against it.
“Find your mark,” she commanded the dagger, and then threw the door open.