Page 185 of In Violent Waves

Tears filled Titania’s eyes. “You are my granddaughter, the daughter of Odette.”

Wilder could hear Lyra’s breath come out in a whoosh, like someone had punched her in the stomach.

Baelwyn stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. Wilder moved towards the stairs as if he would support her.

But as a cry escaped Lyra, she threw her arms around the queen.

Titania wrapped her in an embrace, and Baelwyn circled both of them with his powerful arms.

“You’re my family,” Lyra said between sobs.

“We had heard whispers of you, but never in our wildest dreams did we think they were true,” Titania whispered, stroking Lyra’s hair.

Wilder’s head spun. She was the daughter of the princess he was supposed to marry.

“What happened to her?” Lyra asked.

Titania looked at Baelwyn, and he nodded. “She is here … but she is unwell.”

“What do you mean?” Lyra pulled out of her arms.

The queen’s face pinched in worry, and Wilder held his breath.

“We don’t really know. The witches believed her heart had been broken so badly that her mind had fragmented. We had her put under a spell until we could figure out what to do. By the time we did—she wouldn’t wake.”

Lyra’s eyes flashed, and Wilder’s foot smashed against the bottom stair.

“Heartbroken?”

Titania nodded. “A mother’s love.” She cupped Lyra’s cheek. “Would you like to see her?”

Lyra nodded, and Titania gathered the train of her gown in her hand.

“Come with me.”

Titania sauntered down the stairs, with Lyra and Baelwyn following her. As the queen passed, she patted Wilder’s cheek.

“You should probably come too.”

Her eyes slid to his group of friends and back to him.

“Stay,” he ordered Otto and the others as he took up a position beside Baelwyn.

“We’ll be right here,” Maelys murmured to Lyra.

There had been no murmurs that Odette had returned, not even the wind spoke of her arrival. It had been a very well-guarded secret.

Titania turned down a shadowed hallway and then another. The air grew colder, but not stale. It was crisp, like freshly fallen snow.

A nondescript wooden door appeared at the end of the hidden hallway. A blue flame glowed in an iron torch beside it. The door creaked as Titania turned the handle, and Wilder held his breath as they stepped into the room.

It was a circular room that belonged to one of the towers that flanked the south wall of the castle. The windows overlooked the seaside cliffs, and gulls cried loudly as they flew in the lavender-colored sky.

A lavish bed sat in the middle of the room with a clear view of the sea in the distance. Odette lay still and peaceful in her slumber.

A cornflower gown of silk clad her frail body. Locks of auburn framed her pale face, the color identical to Lyra’s but muted somehow, as if the life had vanished from her. If Wilder hadn’t spied the slight imperceptible rise and fall of her chest, he would have thought she was deceased.

Lyra stood beside the bed but made no move to reach for her mother.