Page 72 of In Rising Tides

The High King was smart not to enlist the likes of Dust or Oron to move him. Surely, they would not betray him as well.

“Wilder Vale,” a voice barked. “You’re wanted by the High King.”

Wilder rolled his eyes. “Sure, just let me tidy up, and I’ll be ready for his arrival.”

His attempt at a jest was met with silence. A frown tugged his lips down.

Lyra would have found that sarcasm hilarious.

The shatter of glass interrupted his thoughts, and he looked down as tiny pieces of emerald scattered across the stones.

Onyx smoke drifted up, and Wilder glared.

“Poison?” he asked without breathing through his nose.

“Sedative.”

Lyra was led back to her rooms and deposited gently inside. “Your own servants will be here soon to ready you. There’s a High Tide ceremony this afternoon, and you are required to attend. The new Tidal Master,” Drystan scowled, “looks forward to meeting you.”

With the collar still around her throat, she couldn’t respond before he swam out of her room and shut the door behind him.She caught a glimpse of Fang and Angler in the hallway, both looking in opposite directions.

The silence overwhelmed her.

Lyra screamed and screamed. But no sound came out.

Her throat was raw from the burning, and the points of the collar pierced her flesh. Neither came close to the emotions that were twisting her insides up.

Wilder was in danger, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her heart was glass, shattering into tiny pieces and scattering into the current.

She closed her eyes, feeling the searing behind her eyelids, but knowing no tears would fall here.

It took her a while to pull herself together, and luckily, she did before two mermaids entered her room.

They were not Verilia or Taria. Lyra rubbed her eyes and sighed. Clad in diaphanous white gowns with tight buns, the new arrivals floated just inside the door, their heads bowed low in supplication.

Lyra had never had servants before.

Mermaids having any kind of job outside of the home was only because of limited circumstances, like being orphaned or sold by their families to the crown.

The taller of the two looked familiar, however, from the bright white of her hair. The shorter one with hair the color of sand, a soft, golden beige, had a thick white gown laid over her outstretched arms.

“Your Highness,” the one in the gown mumbled.

Lyra pointed to the collar and then to her mouth before waving her finger in a “no” motion.

“King Drystan has given us orders, and we are aware of your inability to communicate,” she explained. “I’m Lorelai.”

“And I am Ondine,” the taller one answered.

She looked up, and the skin around her eyes tightened as she fought to keep her face blank.

Lyra struggled to keep the surprise off her face.

It was Ondine, Seraphina’s younger sister.

Lorelai bowed low, but Ondine barely lowered her chin.