Page 178 of In Violent Waves

He had wanted to do things for her, the unicorn for starters, but more. He had wanted to be there when she had woken, with the unicorn in hand, to see the happiness in her eyes. To know that he was the cause of such joy.

The forest around them became ordered with fewer brambles underneath the large canopies and more intentionally placed shrubbery. They were still far from the castle, but Queen Titania’s grip over her realm was already evident.

A pathway lined with tulips and foxglove opened up before them, leading them up and over a hill that overlooked the large plateau in the distance where the castle emerged. It was still a day’s ride away.

Something rustled in the distance, outside his periphery. A shadow, lying in wait. It wasn’t the Queen’s guards that monitored their perimeter; it was something else.

A creature of which he had only heard whispers. Wilder whistled low under his breath, a tone that only Maelys would hear. She urged her horse forward and beside him, leaving Ridge to fall back in line with the carriage.

“Yes?”

“We’re being followed,” he said, no louder than the breeze. “Animal?”

Maelys’ grip on her reins tightened as she felt for the animals around them.

“No.”

Wilder nodded, and she fell back in line.

“Otto?”

“I see nothing,” he replied.

Wilder squared his shoulder and reached for the sword strapped to his side. The creature melded with the shadows butkept pace with them. It wasn’t threatening, per se. It wasn’t welcoming either.

“What is it?” Lyra called from the window of her carriage.

Half of her body was leaning out of the opening, and she gripped the bottom of the window to keep herself from tipping out.

“Nothing,” Wilder replied.

“It doesn’t look like nothing. Your shoulders are stiff.”

Wilder did his best to let the tension melt away. It was futile. He caught a better glimpse of what was trailing them and gleaned it wasn’t a threat, but a surprise to be sure.

It was a tree—one of the sentient trees that stood between their two courts.

Wilder halted their pace and dismounted.

“Of the King,” the tree spoke. Its voice was as soft as the wind in its branches.

Wilder bowed and touched his brow. “Of the Wilds.”

“You’ve traveled some way, my prince.”

“And we have a way yet to go.” Wilder looked up into the gnarled face of the tree. Lined with centuries of life and weather. It was like looking at the beginning of the world and seeing what it had become.

“You travel with a creature not of land.” Its words were not unkind, but there was an edge to them.

“I do. We travel with a princess of the sea.”

“I have not looked upon the water in some time. I will see her.”

No other creature could have demanded such a thing of the Prince. But as a royal of the Wilds, his stewardship prioritized nature.

“Lyra,” Wilder called.

He heard the clatter of the carriage door opening before the crunch of her light footsteps against the forest floor. Turningas she approached, he had to stifle a laugh at the wonder and astonishment widening her eyes and dropping her jaw.