Page 113 of In Rising Tides

Jordania nodded with a chuckle. “Otto’s visions happen as decisions are made. It’s like seeing the bottom of a pond through the ripples of the water. My visions are—stronger. Like looking at the bottom of the pond after removing all the water.”

“Why would you tell me this?” Wilder’s brow rose uncharacteristically high.

“Because you are worthy, my king.” Jordania swept her gaze over Wilder. “And I would like to be of service to you.”

Wilder’s brows pulled together. “I’m no king.”

Jordania clamped her teeth down on her lower lip. “Not yet. But that is your plan, is it not? To challenge your father for the throne?”

“And if I said yes?”

She was quiet for a moment, her shoulders rising and falling with a sigh. “Then I was correct in my assumption and have no regrets in setting a ward around this cottage to keep your father’s guards from coming near.”

Wilder blinked. “Have you looked into that future?”

“Not yet,” she pursed her lips together. “Some things fate does not reveal, no matter how nicely you ask.” Her words were sharp as she tilted her head to the sky as if to curse the moon.

“I thank you for the ward. But I have no real path or plan on how to get Lyra back. You’d be joining an unsteady cause.”

Jordania shifted, digging her hands into the pockets of her skirts before pulling out a small velvet pouch. She handed it to Wilder.

“You just need motivation.”

The pouch felt heavy in his hand, but familiar. He untied the drawstrings and peered inside. His heart leapt from his chest. It was Lyra’s necklace.

“And maybe a peace offering for you to accept me,” Jordania said with a hint of a smile.

Wilder took the necklace, gently stroking a finger over the sapphire shell. He slowly closed it in his fist and held it against his chest.

“I’ll have to tell Warick he was right. How insufferable.”

Wilder didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. Memories of Lyra flooded his mind, anchoring his tongue to the bottom of his mouth.

“You miss her,” Jordania whispered.

“More than air to breathe.”

Jordania smiled. “She’s not lost, merely waiting to be found.”

Wilder blinked his eyes open and clasped the necklace around his neck, tucking the shell beneath his tunic. “Thank you for bringing it to me.”

“I couldn’t let it be destroyed. It’s full of ancient power, older than the magic of our land.”

Wilder tilted his head to the side and lifted the shell up to his line of sight. “What do you mean?”

“There were monsters that roamed these lands before our gods came to be …”

Wilder dipped his chin, knowing that much of their history already.

“Our gods garnered the energy among the ley lines to banish them away.”

“Ley lines?” Wilder asked, his brow furrowing, casting his eyes into shadow.

“They are lines of power that crisscross all over our realm. Things that grow or live in the vicinity of those lines have power as well—like that shell.”

“This necklace has power?”

Jordania pursed her lips, and the movement sharpened her jaw. “I would think so, with the energy buzzing from it.”