Page 90 of In Rising Tides

Nerida had spoken the goddesses’ name. The goddess who had been wiped from her people’s memory.

“How,” Lyra spoke as calmly as she could, “do you know that name?”

Nerida’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

“She is our goddess—the true creator of our people.”

The hood blocked the light, but not the smoke that had him gasping for air.

His feet tangled beneath him, and he was practically dragged down three flights of stairs.

The hands beneath his arms chafed his flesh, but he bit down his complaints.

Maelys was here.

He was being rescued.

Relief soothed the burn in his chest.

“Just a bit more,” Oron ground out. His panting breaths drowned out Wilder’s grunt of surprise.

Who else had come to his aid?

“Can you ride?” Ridge whispered.

The pain in Wilder’s head evaporated at the sound of his friend’s concerned voice.

“I can manage.”

Their steps grew louder as they thundered against wooden floors, and then a shrill, whining creak had his teeth on edge as a door was pried open.

Fresh, night-kissed air brushed against his exposed hands and the tears in his tunic. The hood covering his head was yanked off, and Wilder blinked.

He didn’t immediately recognize where they stood, but when he turned and took in the wall behind him and the nondescript wooden door, he realized it was part of the original castle that had been built into the hill.

The smoke shifted to a light grey instead of pitch black.

Therehadbeen an explosion.

“How?” he whispered more to himself as he shook his head.

A body collided against his, knocking the breath from his lungs. Maelys’ golden-brown hair covered his nose and eyes as she pressed herself against him.

“I’m so—so relieved,” she cried, squeezing him tightly.

Wilder couldn’t hold her back. His hands were trapped between them.

So he did the next best thing and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

“I can’t believe you all pulled off something like that.” He breathed her in. “Thank you.”

Ridge clapped Wilder on the shoulder as Maelys pulled away.

“We nicked some weapons off ruffians on our patrols. Said they got them from human alchemists,” he chuckled. “They called it dragon’s fire. I thought they were being hyperbolic, but it worked like a charm.”

Oron grunted behind him as a ring of keys clinked together.

“We’ll have those off you in no time,” he muttered, glaring at the shackles that still bound Wilder’s wrists.