Page 125 of In Violent Waves

“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.”