Page 49 of In Rising Tides

The gates of the Wilds groaned open, iron screeching against stone. Wilder rode through first, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached.

He had never brought Lyra through these streets—had never shown her the lantern-lit alleys or the twisting roots that buckled the ancient cobblestone roads. He had wanted her to see this place and choose it as her home.

Now it felt like betrayal.

The sky hung low and colorless, clouds smothering the stars until the city glowed a dull silver.

A storm was coming.

He felt the pressure behind his eyes and in the way his magic writhed beneath his skin.

“Let’s just discuss this one more time,” Maelys begged, her voice tight. “We are not going to ask?—”

“No.” Wilder shook his head. “I’m ordering him to declare war.”

Otto winced, and his face twisted into a ghastly grimace. Ridge shared a look with Maelys.

It wasn’t hard to see that they thought this was a terrible idea. But there was no way around it.

If he were going to bring her back, he needed his father to declare war.

Baelwyn ambled beside him and took in the city sights with a morose expression.

Otto cleared his throat. “I see that it?—”

Wilder urged his horse on, stopping Otto from finishing his sentence. Wilder didn’t know what he would say to the man who sired him, didn’t know how he would react upon seeing his face, but Wilder knew it would be some degree of fury.

“Wilder,” Maelys called as she led her horse around a large barrel of ale. “You can’t just go in there with no plan.”

Ridge ducked beneath a low-hanging tavern sign. “I agree with Maelys. We should know at the very least. Lyra would?—”

Wilder swallowed. Lyra would tell him he was being reckless. That rage was not a strategy.

But Lyra wasn’t here. She was in Atlantis, facing unknown horrors.

“She is running out of time,” Wilder ground out.

“Lyra is fine,” Otto answered, bringing his mount up beside Wilder’s. “She was brought before the council, and she?—”

“She what?” Wilder and Baelwyn asked in unison.

Otto beamed and shook his head. The beads tied in his hair clacked together and twined with his laugh. “She’s unleashing her anger on Drystan’s treachery.”

Maelys and Ridge laughed together, but Wilder let out a shallow sigh.

“Will she be okay?” Baelwyn asked.

He didn’t share the same kind of relief as Wilder. In fact, Baelwyn gripped his reins with an iron fist, if the white knuckles were any indication.

“Yes,” Otto said. “For now.”

Wilder’s brow furrowed as he chewed on that thought.

Cruel men did not admire defiance unless they believed they could break it.

The palace loomed ahead, its living towers rising from the earth like trees.

Wilder shoved the thought aside. He could not afford distraction—not tonight.