71. In Violent Waves
Abubble rose from the water on a giant wave that carried a dozen mermen to shore.
Drystan was at the center. A golden helm couldn’t hide his familiar sneer from her. Lyra felt her stomach sink, and a weight settled on her chest.
“Go back to the castle,” Wilder ordered. He patted his side for the sword that was usually there, but came up empty.
They were unarmed and outnumbered.
And it was already too late.
A dozen guards, tails splitting into powerful thighs and calves, were marching through the surf and towards them.
“Lyra—go.” When she did not move, he said again, “I command you to go.” Wilder’s voice thundered with the authoritative quality that only a crowned prince of the Wilds could instill.
“You do not command me,” Lyra hissed, her eyes scouring his face for any hint of the elf she had come to love.
Wilder stared back at her and lowered his chin only once.
The mermen circled them, and Wilder pulled Lyra close to his side.
Drystan stood in front of them. Bedecked in royal armor of glittering gold scales, carrying the trident that belonged to her father. Lyra hesitated at what that could mean.
“Well, well. If it isn’t my blushing bride,” Drystan addressed Lyra before turning his nastiness to Wilder. “You dare touch what is mine?”
“I belong to no one,” Lyra seethed and stepped in front of Wilder.
“Our engagement says otherwise.”
The guards flanking them shifted. Several weapons were pointed directly at Lyra and Wilder. Golden spears and broadswords were all held in their fists, ready and waiting for the order to kill them.
She didn’t recognize a single guard, and the emblem on their chests was not her father’s. An eel wrapped around a barracuda. It was the Ithicais house crest.
“Why are you here?”
Drystan looked from her to Wilder.
“Are you the crowned prince of the Wilds?”
Wilder ground his teeth, and Lyra could feel him stiffen behind her.
“The princess asked you a question,” was his only reply.
Drystan smirked. “A crown of briars on raven-black hair. You must be Wilder Vale.”
Wilder nodded only once, and Drystan smirked.
“I made a bargain with your father.” Lyra could feel her heart stop. “A bargain he did not uphold.”
“What bargain?” Lyra asked and took a step forward. Wilder wrapped his fingers around her wrist to keep her from taking another step away from him.
“He was to hold you captive until I could complete my plans. And then return you to the sea. But it seems Oberon had other plans in mind and kept you. I’ve come to claim what is mine.”
“I am not yours!” Lyra’s chest heaved with her scream. “And I refuse to return to the sea.”
Wilder tightened his grip, and she took a step back, bumping against his chest, and her breathing slowed.
“What did my father get out of this bargain?”
The superiority on Drystan’s face made Lyra’s chest hurt. “Lyra would have been a common enemy. He assumed her presence would remind you of your duty. You’ve been a bit wayward again, and the wulvers were beneficial last time. That, and of course, he would want to be in my good graces.”
A breath slipped through her lips. It appeared he had no idea about the bargain she had struck with Oberon.
Drystan threw the trident from one hand to another, keeping his eyes on them.
“But aren’t you curious as to why I have this?”
She was. Despite herself, she was curious about how he had acquired her father’s trident. Was it given willingly? Or stolen?
“No.”
Drystan tutted, pointing it at her. “Such an accomplished liar.”
Lyra’s spine stiffened, and Wilder leaned forward. “Easy,” he whispered.
“I am the ruler of the seven seas.”
The ocean waves ceased, and the constant blowing of the wind halted.
“What did you do?”
“That’s why I needed you out of the way, my bride. It’d be hard to conquer a kingdom with you standing in the way with that power of yours.”
“I have no power,” she hissed.
Drystan snorted and shook his head. “Did you forget who I am? Where I am from? The sea witch told me as soon as she glimpsed the power within you. Why do you think I agreed to the wedding arrangements in the first place?”
Lyra ground her teeth together. “The sea witch lied. I have no magic.”
“I have ways of making you cooperate, Lyra. Don’t push me.” Drystan now pointed the trident at Wilder.
“Whatever happens,” he whispered. “You save yourself, Legs.”
“No,” she ground out, clinging to his hand in hers.
“You will come with me now, Lyra. Or I will kill everything you have come to love. And I know you have enjoyed your time here on land.” Drystan’s eyes slid from her to Wilder.
“When I say run,” Wilder whispered so that only she could hear. “You run, and you do not look back.”
“No,” she whimpered. “I can’t leave you.”
“I don’t think she will be going with you,” Wilder said to Drystan.
Drystan’s jaw flexed, and he aimed the trident at Wilder’s chest. The trident held no magic, but the threat was clear.
Lyra felt the magic within her flare once more. He was threatening what was hers. And she would not have it.
“Don’t,” Wilder ground out to her. As if he could feel her magic coiling to strike.
“You will come with me now.”
Lyra shook her head, and Drystan nodded to the guards, who crept towards them.
Closer and closer, they closed in.
When the points of their weapons were in striking range, Wilder’s hand slipped from her wrist and gripped her shoulder.
“One,” he breathed. “Two.” The points of their weapons gleamed in the sunlight. “Run!”
Wilder shoved her towards the castle and let loose his magic.
A wall of wind surged from around them, throwing the guards to the sand and clearing a path for Lyra to race to the castle.
Sand kicked up behind her as she darted out of reach of several guards.
She had to get to Maelys, Ridge, and Otto. She had to get help.
Guards clambered to their feet, half splitting to catch her and the other half circling Wilder.
They wouldn’t make it.
Wilder fought them off with his bare hands and well-placed kicks. Surges of his wind pushed them backwards, but there were too many for him to hold off alone.
Grunts of pain and shouts of anger rang out behind her.
He would die before she could make it back with help.
Lyra threw herself to a stop and felt several bodies collide against her.
Manacles were shackled to her wrists as she was hauled to her feet and carried back to Drystan.
He stood leaning against his trident, looking on as Wilder was forced to his knees by a guard with a broadsword.
“Well, that was quick,” he sighed. “I expected more from the great Wilder Vale.”
“Give me a sword and even the odds, then.”
Drystan snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid.”
“Could have fooled me,” Lyra sang as she was dragged to his feet.
“Lyra,” Wilder shushed her.
But his eyes were pleading. He had failed her, and she could see it plain as day in his eyes. She winked at him, and he frowned.
“I will go with you,” Lyra said to Drystan. “On one condition.”
Drystan arched a brow.
“Let him go.”
Drystan shook his head. “He touched you. His life is penance.”
Lyra smirked. “I touched him—and liked it.”
Drystan's face turned a ruddy shade of red as his fury grew.
“Lyra,” Wilder snapped.
A sword pressed against his throat, silencing him.
All her swagger evaporated. She couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.
“Let him go!” Lyra shrieked. “Let him go, and I will go willingly. But harm him, and I will fight. Every day of my life, I will do nothing but make your life miserable. And you know I will succeed.”
Drystan shook his head as if clearing the images of her touching Wilder from his head.
“Let him go, please,” Lyra begged.
If anything happened to him, she couldn’t bear the thought of it. Of everything she had come to love, taken away from her.
“You will do as I bid?” Drystan asked.
Her magic. He was after her magic. But it was her life or Wilder’s now.
Lyra nodded.
“No!” Wilder barked out before the sword pressed against his skin.
Lyra looked back at him with pleading eyes and trembling hands. “Stop,” she mouthed. And prayed that he would listen.
“Fine,” Drystan agreed. He grabbed hold of her chains and tugged her to him. But he turned around to face Wilder.
“I see how much he means to you,” Drystan whispered in her ear. And the nearness made her stomach roil. But it was the edge in his voice that had her heart racing. Drystan nodded to the guard, and he removed his sword. “And because of that. He cannot live.”
Lyra sucked in a sharp inhale, and her eyes widened. The guard reared back with his sword in an arc meant to decapitate Wilder.
“Stop,” Lyra commanded, plucking on that thread of her magic. Her voice rang out with the dominance of the entire universe.
Everything stopped.
The sea, the wind, and the birds flying in the sky.
Everything froze.
“You will not harm him.”
The sword thunked as it landed in the sand.
She couldn’t imagine one more scar upon Wilder’s body, much less the end of his life.
Wilder stared, enthralled. And it broke her heart into a million pieces.
The thread within her went out, the magic all used up.
She had never practiced how to wield it to last and had burned through it already. There was nothing left for her to save herself.
All at once, the world started spinning again. The waves crashed against the shore, the birds flew by, and the wind blew her hair in her face.
The guard picked up his sword and stepped past Wilder as if he weren’t there. The guard holding Wilder let go and stepped towards the sea. Drystan whirled her around to face him.
“I knew it,” he spat. Tugging her close to him, he dragged her through the surf.
It was as if Wilder didn’t even exist.
A slow breath slipped through her lips. The magic held—they could not harm him.
Wilder clambered to his feet and raced towards her.
But it was too late.
Drystan shoved a vial down her throat.
“For your legs.” He glared down at them.
The jelly-textured liquid slid down her throat, and she choked on it as they dragged her further into the sea.
“Lyra,” Wilder screamed. Trudging through the waves to get to her.
Her heart splintered at the sound of the anguish in his voice. She looked over her shoulder as her legs dropped beneath her and dragged her body.
They were going to take her now, and there was nothing she could do about it but let it happen.
Tears ran in rivulets down her cheeks. She didn’t want to go—didn’t want him to see her being taken.
“I will come for you!” Wilder promised, still trying to swim through the waves.
His head bobbed above the water before a wave crashed down on him.
Her legs fused, and the skin stitched itself back together. Her toes elongated, and it felt like bones piercing through her flesh as her fins grew back.
The familiarity of her form was a balm to the anguish she felt suffocating her.
“I will find you!” Wilder roared, coming up for air again.
It was the last words she heard as they swam beneath the surface and back towards her home.
But it wasn’t Lyra’s home any longer, and she wasn’t returning as the mermaid who had left.
She was returning as the monster they made.
The End