Page 126 of In Violent Waves

Lyra’s eyes widened with surprise, and her lips parted with a gasp. “Soulmates?”

“Of course,” he hummed. “The three other brothers planned to strike her down and then kill the rest of the sisters, exerting their power over the realm. But the fourth brother could not raise a hand against her any more than he could against his brothers. He took the sister for his own, their bond slipping into place, tying them together forever. When the oldest sister did not return, her sisters became worried and came looking for her. They found three brothers and expected the worst, of course.”

Lyra nodded and worried her bottom lip. “And then what happened?”

Wilder paddled their boat underneath the roots of a giant cypress tree. The branches of the ancient tree stretched far and wide. He looked up as they passed underneath, and Lyra followed suit. Seeing thousands of years of life resting above her head.

She swallowed audibly and then sighed with relief when they passed through unscathed.

“They appeared and told their siblings what had happened. This land demanded balance. That magic was balance. And in doing so, created the foundation for our world. Each brother, a sister. Each partnership, a land. Ennosidas and Tiandra ruled over the merfolk. Alfor and Aradia, the mortals, and Fionn and Mab, the elves.”

Lyra’s eyes sparkled in the watery light, and a rush of emotions coursed through her. The world demanded balance, and yet—she was not raised that way. The ocean was ruled by men. Knowledge of Tiandra had been stripped away.

“What of the fourth brother and sister? Where are they?”

Wilder smiled a sad smile and looked around at the swamp, and then up into the sky.

“I was always told that they became the sun and the moon. Watching over the world that they had saved. Sharing an eternity in the sky.”

It was bewitching and gut-wrenching, this story of his.

“But do they ever get to see each other?” Lyra whispered, her eyes burning again.

“Of course,” Wilder replied. “But it’s just an old legend. Who knows if it’s true?”

He shrugged and kept paddling them down the winding, lazy river. Lyra leaned her side against the wooden bow of their canoe and watched as the Three Sisters came alive around them.

Turtles were perched on large river stones, napping in the sun that filtered through. Otters splashed along the banks, chattering as they played. An egret gracefully dunked its bill in the water and walked with long strides through the marsh.

It was full of life and buzzing energy, even if the water seemed anything but. It was idle and calm.

“I see why you like it here,” Lyra muttered.

Wilder nodded and prodded them farther along. He seemed happy here and settled.

“I think you will enjoy the willow more.”

She watched a turtle slide off the rock and into the water with a splash.

“Why?”

Wilder watched her, and a knowing smile tugged on his lips.

“It’s a good place to read. Under the branches that sway in the breeze. It blocks out the entire world.”

Lyra grinned back at him. “It sounds lovely.”

They lay together under the branches of the ancient willow. It sang to them as Wilder napped and Lyra read on a quilt that they had spread on the soft grass. He had his arms underneath his head, and his chest rose and fell in line with the branches that swayed back and forth around them.

It was as he said it would be. The long branches blocked out the outside world, but there was still enough light that she could see the words on the page.

Lyra had started the book about magic and bargains that Queen Aine had lent her. It read like an educational text, but she was still fascinated.

There had been a lot more to bargains than what she knew. Particularly, how her part would not rely only on her using her voice but on being in the places where the original bargain had been struck between the merfolk and mortals.

The book had explained it like a braided cord, and to undo it, she would have to undo the knot and unweave the plait.

Her heart and brain hurt thinking about it, so she switched to something more inspiring, the other book Aine had lent her. She found the chamomile flowers that had marked her place and slid back into the story of Ophelia, the heroine who vanquished a dragon.