Page 156 of In Rising Tides

Wilder stopped walking and stared out across the horizon. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the brilliantly blue sky.

The exact opposite of how things had felt in the cottage in the last few days. A dark cloud had been cast over their home.

Tensions were rising, and he could barely stomach it any longer.

Maelys was constantly agitated, her venomous tongue lashing out at every opportunity. Her latest explosion was directed at Cedric for picking carrots that weren’t quite ripe.

“Must I do everything around here?” she had shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

Jordania and Otto were practically at war with each other, their quiet disagreements bubbling over into full-on shouting matches.

Jordania didn’t care that the magic was unpredictable and volatile when the good it could do outweighed any of the bad.

Otto constantly fretted over the negative outcomes, the most lethal being the cost of life.

It could kill any one of them to form the bridge.

But Jordania argued that it wouldn’t balance the magic. That the cost would not be that high.

Wilder was inclined to agree with her.

They had argued about it again last night, ending with Jordania threatening to turn Otto into a newt if he brought it up again.

Waiting was wearing Wilder down.

He was tired, so utterly exhausted of not doing anything at all. He couldn’t go home, not without challenging his father for the throne. He couldn’t get to Lyra.

He couldn’t do anything. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and a bellow built in his chest.

Wilder tipped his head to the sky and let it loose.

Let the boom of frustration echo around him as his magic unfurled.

A gale sliced across the water, splitting it in two.

Someone giggled behind him, and he turned to find Jordania sizing him up.

“Feel better?”

Wilder’s throat burned, so he settled for a shake of his head.

“I can’t imagine the helplessness you must feel.”

She approached him so that they were side by side. Her pale-blue dress fluttered in the wind, and she pulled a white shawl over her shoulders.

There had been a time when he would have been uncomfortable standing this close to her.

Her unnatural golden eyes that saw too much, and how her voice fluctuated between one and many. Old and young.

“I’ve never felt so …lost,” he muttered.

Jordania smiled, and it was lovely. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Let’s form the bridge and claim the Wilds. Fight for her.”

She was right. But still, the lingering doubt crept back over his mind.

“What if it’s a mistake?”

Her lower lip plumped with her frown. “It’s a mistake to do nothing. It means you’re choosing this life, and I know you don’t want that.”