Page 56 of In Rising Tides

“King Drystan,” Estria called, and he slowed.

Estria appeared on Drystan’s other side. There was a tightness around her eyes as she gazed at him.

“There is more that I saw that I did not share,” her voice was barely a whisper.

“We’ll speak on it later,” he said abruptly. “Unless the prince has changed his course?”

Estria’s grin was filled with contempt as she turned her eyes to Lyra. “No. The Prince is not seeking a way to our borders.”

Lyra’s chest ached, and her throat burned. Ithadto be a lie. It was just a way to keep her here, to punish her, and make her feel alone.

“You’re a liar,” Lyra hissed. “Hewillcome for me.”

Estria sized her up and blinked. “I would like nothing more than a war,” she said. “But it will not come to pass because the prince is coming to save you.No one is coming for you.”

Lyra swallowed forcibly.

“He’s not trying to find a way around the High King’s dismissal?” Drystan asked, his lips pursed.

“No,” Estria said. “It was strange. There was so much fight in him for her, and then just nothing.” She shook her head as if to rid herself of his thoughts. “I believe there is still a way to sway the council for war. But we must discuss it now.”

Drystan grinned. “Very well. Let me escort the princess to her chamber first.”

A throat cleared behind them, alerting them to Fang and Angler’s appearance.

“We can escort her, Your Highness,” Fang said through his teeth.

Drystan shifted his hold on Lyra so that she was outstretched like an offering.

“Give her whatever she requires. But she is not to leave her room without my express permission.”

They bowed lowly before taking up position on either side of Lyra. Where did he think she would run off to? She had nowhere to go now.

Lyra didn’t hesitate as they continued to move towards her room.

She didn’t even remember Drystan and Estria leaving. All she felt was a crippling nothingness.

The current thrummed in her mind and through her chest. Its presence was suffocating.

This was a prison.

There was no way out.

Wilder had abandoned her.

Apounding thundered behind his eyes as Wilder struggled to sit up. Chains rattled at his wrists and kept him on his back. It was painful to blink.

When he finally could, the room came into focus.

Room was putting it nicely.

It was a cell. Thick, iron bars separated him from what appeared to be a hallway outside.

A pile of straw was squashed nearby. Several pieces of it clung to him as he finally got into a seated position.

His movements were sluggish, and nausea churned in his gut. He tried to brush himself off, but the short length of the chain impeded any real movement.

The stones of the wall bit into his back. They were ashen gray and covered in lichen.