Page 158 of In Rising Tides

Otto grumbled disapprovingly, but clamped his mouth shut when Maelys hissed at him.

Jordania stuck her toes in the water but put her back to the sea as she faced the land.

“Have a seat,” she instructed.

Wilder sat facing her on her left side.

“Otto, can you sit on the other side of me? Ridge and Maelys in the front. I might need assistance when channeling.”

Otto lowered himself reluctantly. While Ridge plopped down and pulled Maelys onto his lap.

“What do we do?” he asked, wrapping Maelys up in his arms.

“Nothing for now. I just need silence,” Jordania replied. She squared her shoulders and closed her eyes.

They sat that way for hours.

Jordania chanted in a language Wilder did not know and then tossed her stones in the center of them.

Each time, she scooped them back up and scowled.

It wasn’t working.

All the time he spent deliberating on what would be the best course of action, he had chosen wrong.

Before long the sun would be gone and the day would be over.

Jordania scooped the stones off the ground with a sigh before closing her eyes and chanting again.

She wasn’t giving up.

Then neither should he.

Their plan was to arrive in Zeal the day before their wedding ceremony for a secret handfasting.

Drystan had sent word to Adamaris and instructed the prince not to tell anyone who didn’t need to know.

Leaving the palace walls would be dangerous again. But they were also killing two birds with this stone. The entire council was arriving, unannounced, to get a look at the temple—and Tiandra.

They had quietly made it through Atlantis and began working their way through Zeal. The northeastern territory burst with vibrant colors.

Neon sea fans and bright coral thrived against the black silt seabed, life reclaiming every crevice the ocean would allow. Towering, shadowed mountains stood sentinel in the distance, guarding the temples made of gleaming volcanic glass.

The water felt warmer here—alive—and almost electric in a way the current pulsed. It prickled Lyra’s skin.But that could have also been the nerves.

Her heart fluttered alongside pulsating fields of amethyst anemone. And she longed to brush her hands through the emerald sea-grasses. For as often as she felt like she didn’t belong in Atlantis, she did feel like she belonged here.

This place felt a part of her, as if she had been plucked from the fields of emerald and woven with the crimson anemone.

The stately palace mirrored the temples in the distance with the same kind of gleam.

Lyra caught sight of Enna and Adamaris hovering before the grand archway of the entrance as they arrived. Enna waited beside her husband, not behind him, and the image struck a chord within Lyra.

Her sister wore a kylix of iridescent pearl, the bright shade stunning against her tan skin. Adamaris glanced sidelong at his wife, a smile spreading across his lips, dissolving the frown that had been in place.

A line of nobles and servants on either side of the prince and princess presented a grand welcome. Lyra stretched her arms up above her head and stretched her fins out, readying for the posturing that was about to take place.

“That didn’t take too long, at least,” Nerida said with a yawn as she patted her elaborate updo.