Page 126 of In Rising Tides

He was far enough away that Wilder couldn’t make out his expression clearly, but from here it appeared there was a grim set to his mouth, and his fist clenched tattered parchment.

Their paths converged halfway between the cottage and the forest.

Ridge and Maelys appeared right behind Wilder, their breaths still calm despite the speed at which they had run to keep up with him.

Oron held out the parchment.

It was thick and finely crafted, despite the shredding around the edges. It smelled strange, though, not like the forest he had plucked it from or like the hawthorn it had been nailed to.

It smelled of smoke and mud.

Wilder unrolled it. His eyes scanned the scrawling script and then widened.

“Well?” Maelys asked, bouncing on her heels.

“It’s from the humans,” Wilder said, still reading the missive.

Ridge leaned closer. “What do they want?”

Wilder’s eyes slid closed as he let the parchment fall to the trodden grass.

“It appears Maelor had not been bluffing.” He swallowed, his eyes sliding shut. “They want Lyra.”

It was unbearable waiting for the council to assemble. With each creak of the door, Lyra’s heart rate increased.

“Is it any better?” Drystan asked her.

“No.”

Drystan refused to explain the reason for the meeting until everyone arrived.

“Are you well, Princess?” a masculine voice asked her.

By the kindness in it, it could have been Hadrian or Rigel, but it did not matter.

“She’s fine,” Drystan snapped.

Ice slithered through the room as the door whined on its hinges once more.

“You called?” Estria crooned.

If Lyra’s sight had not already been black, she would have seen the witch in a swirling onyx gown that matched her hair.

“It’s different from last time,” Drystan replied. “But I fear it’s what we discussed.”

Estria hummed, and Lyra could hear the tinkling of glass against glass. “Drink this.”

Something cold and hard was pressed into Lyra’s free hand, her other hand still gripped tightly in Drystan’s.

She did not mind his touch this time either.

The blindness was unbearable, and had he not anchored her, she would have floated away—taken by the current.

“What is it?” Lyra asked, using her thumb to trace the glass item. It was a vial with a diamond pattern etched across the sides.

“It will restore your sight,” Estria’s voice was a slow, deliberate hiss.

Lyra didn’t press the glass to her lips. Her hesitation was not unsurprising to the others as they chuckled.