Page 1 of In Rising Tides

Wilder was unsure if his heart was still beating within him or if the ocean now claimed it.

Sand collected beneath his nails as he clawed his way onto the shore. The wind howled as if it mourned his loss.

Drained of his magic, he was powerless but to shut his eyes against the barrage of sand it hurled at his face.

His mind was empty except for one thought.

She was gone.

They had taken her.

A shudder tore through him, and his throat burned as he expelled saltwater from his lungs.

He’d almost drowned chasing after her—and would never have stopped if the current had not taken him. Like a great beast, it seized him in its jaws and ripped him off course before spitting him out a great distance down the shore like nothing more than driftwood.

Wilder fought for as long and as hard as he could before succumbing to the poisonous agony that seeped into him. It drained more than just his mind.

It stole the strength from his limbs. His arms and legs had stopped obeying his commands, and the saltwater found a home in his lungs. He turned his sights to the land.

But she had been dragged beneath the surface.

“Wilder!” Maelys’ voice carried from down the beach, distant but frantic.

Three figures appeared along the golden horizon. Ridge, Otto, and Maelys were running hard towards him.

With his waning strength, Wilder forced himself onto his knees, lifted an arm over his head, and waved. His wet clothes clung to him like a second skin.

Every movement seemed daunting and impossible.

The sea took more than his strength.

He was alive, but onlyjust.

A sob tore from his lips, and Wilder clutched his chest as if he could hold the pieces of his soul together.

He had lost her. And with her absence, he felt like he had lost his very being.

Behind him, the tide surged and crashed, each wave a whisper of her name. Water rushed towards him like grasping fingers before retreating again, over and over.

Air burned his throat and lungs with each ragged breath. It was hard to breathe. Each inhale brought her familiar sea-kissed scent, only it wasn’t hers. The absence of her hollowed him out—a sinkhole forming in his chest.

He would get her back.

He had to.

Seagulls cried overhead as Wilder focused on his surroundings, sharpening his mind and trying to think past the pain that was enveloping him. He stared at his hands, watching as they sank into the sand.

Footsteps padded on the sand, and he looked up into the horrified faces of Ridge, Otto, and Maelys.

“They took her,” he rasped, fighting off the tremors that shook his voice and body.

It was cold, so unbearably cold, and it had nothing to do with his sodden clothes.

Otto was the first to speak. “I couldn’t see. The water blinded me. By the time I?—”

“Whotook her?” Maelys demanded, sliding her booted feet apart as if she were expecting enemies to spring forth from the sand.

The wind whipped her long, golden-brown hair behind her and twisted her pale-yellow dress around her ankles. She squinted against the waning sunlight. It caught the amber in her eyes and turned them molten.