Page 54 of In Violent Waves

He grabbed Lyra by the arm and tugged her behind him, keeping himself between her and whatever dangers lay before them. It surprised her how much she liked that. Even with the blisters on her feet and legs barking in protest—it felt delightful. To be protected. She had never been protected before. Even if he was doing it out of a sense of duty, it was still nice.

They reachedthe Three Sisters Swamp sooner than they had planned. Having only stopped a handful of times to see to their needs or let the horses rest and graze. The elves and Lyra hadfeasted on bread and fruits that Ridge and Otto never failed to pull from their packs.

Lyra was starting to believe those bags were bewitched to never be empty. She marveled at the ethereal magic of this place. Trees rose out of the murky water, but their branches sagged as if they longed to return to the soil beneath the surface.

They didn’t slow their pace even as they pushed themselves and their horses to the brink of death. Whatever was after them was dangerous enough that Wilder would put their lives at risk to get her to their borders.

A strip of raised ground no more than two horses wide cut through the marshy land. Mud kicked up as they galloped along. The wind tore at Lyra’s hair, and the tangled and matted strands flapped like a wave behind her and right into Wilder’s face. Her cheeks were rosy, not from the temperature but from the wind’s burn. Anytime she blinked or moved her mouth, she could feel the rawness of her skin. It was tiresome, all this unnecessary pain that land dwellers were accustomed to.

“Once we’re through the Three Sisters, it’s a straight shot through the Valewood. Then you’ll be safe,” Wilder murmured in her ear.

Lyra couldn’t help the shiver that his voice so close to her body elicited.

But she wanted to laugh at his word choice.Safe. She wouldn’t be safe anywhere. Had never been. She didn’t think that was going to change now.

A ripple in the water beside them drew her attention as she watched it rise and then fall. Her knowledge of swamps and the manner of creatures that dwelled within them was abysmal.

“Why is it called the ‘Three Sisters’?”

“It’s named for the original three,” he replied with a dull sort of enthusiasm.

“I figured as much. Butwhoare they?”

Wilder slowed their horse a fraction so that he didn’t have to yell over the wind, and Lyra was grateful the sting against her flesh abated.

“You’ve never been told about the three sisters? About where you came from?”

Lyra shook her head. She didn’t hold her breath on him replying, but when he cleared his throat, she tried to quell the excitement that built.

“Long ago, this world was ruled by three sisters: Mab, Tiandra, and Aradia. They were sisters by blood, but each a different creature. Mab was an elf, Tiandra a mermaid, and Aradia was human. They were the original balance.”

It wasn’t surprising she was never taught this story. Females being rulers was not a thing that would be allowed to be learned or discussed in Atlantis. But how Wilder spoke of balance intrigued her. It was as if it were common knowledge.

“Balance?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Lyra could feel Wilder’s gaze on the side of her face as she looked out at the murky water.

“The universe demands balance. For every poison a cure, for every ruler an equal, for every power an opposite.”

Her face hurt as she scrunched her nose in confusion. That couldn’t be true.

There was no balance in Atlantis. And there was no equal to her power … she could feel it stir when she thought of it.

A vibration in the golden thread that called to her.

Lyra curled in upon herself as if she could hide. And when she didn’t ask another question, Wilder prodded their horse along and increased their speed.

After he had told her the story of the three sisters, Lyra had turned inward and remained that way. She didn’t look up when they made it through the swamp, and from what he could tell, she didn’t even look at the Valewood as they entered its southern border.

It confused him because the forest here was more majestic than the mortal forest she marveled at, and the eerie swamp she studied with ravenous curiosity.

He hadn’t thought he had been rude to her; he even explained when she asked questions, but now, in her silence, he rethought every word he had spoken to her. He had told hertheir names, what species they were, and about balance. Nothing out of that was opinion-based or delivered with sarcasm. But she had disliked something he had said.

They passed a group of trolls that strolled with a sluggish gait around burrows. Their hunched and moss-covered figures blended into the forest completely. He was astonished that Lyra didn’t react or comment on their presence. Maybe she didn’t see them?

They traveled with speed through the Valewood, passing forest nymphs dancing through trees, their willowy limbs ethereal with their movements. He glimpsed a flock of pixies next, whose glittering wings tinkled and trilled their tiny bodies as they moved out of their path.

It had been quite a while since they had stopped for her to stretch or for the horses to rest. Maybe if they did that, then he could figure out what perturbed her. Slowing their horses, Wilder raised a fist in the air so that the others would stop. Lyra still didn’t move.