Page 70 of In Violent Waves

“Swell conversation,” she muttered.

Wilder ground his teeth to staunch the well of emotions that bubbled up. She could get under his skin quicker than anyone he had ever met.

“Even if I did know, I couldn’t tell you. I have or?—”

“Orders,” Lyra huffed. “You’re so honorable in your duty, Prince.”

He didn’t know why that bothered him so much. Of course, he was honorable and followed the orders his father handed him. But that didn’t mean that’s all he was. He had thoughts and ideas of his own—even if he didn’t listen to them.

The doorway to the throne room loomed ahead. Wilder straightened his spine and squared his shoulders.

He knew he would not like this, but he liked little of what he had to do daily. What was one more thing?

The guards on either side of the grand, arched doorway left their positions to pull the golden antler door handles open.

Wilder could hear Lyra’s breath catch as the room opened up before them. His father’s throne room was the Wilds personified.

Evergreen trees held up the domed ceiling. The floor was the same glittering stone that had made up the foundation of the hill the castle was built on, and it sparkled like the sun upon the sea.

Hundreds of elves turned to stare at them as they walked on the dark green runner that lay the length of the colossal room.

He turned and glanced at Lyra, who kept pace beside him. Her chin raised as she held her head high despite the malevolent glares from those they passed. Curses were hissed at her and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a few of them spat at the train of her purple gown.

Fury surged through his veins at that offense. He caught the eye of a noble-born elf. Her ethereal glow and flowing gown were covered in glittering jewels. The glare he gave her had the flowers in her hair shriveling up and dying.

Wilder raised a hand, letting his magic flow. The wind carved a path through the room so that no one else could spit or hiss curses at her as they passed.

A page dressed in evergreen robes moved from beside his father’s dais.

The throne sat high up on the wide stairs. Two massive emerald trees, with their trunks bent and split, created the seat of the chair and towering back. Bushels of heather frozen in time, and other flora native to the Wilds, sprouted around it. They appeared to have been carved from the land and dropped into the room.

It was transcendent and savage.

“His Majesty, Oberon, High King of the Wilds!” the page called.

Everyone in the room bowed. Wilder could feel his father’s heavy gaze on him before it settled onto a still-standing Lyra.

“Bow,” Wilder hissed under his breath. Lyra slid her gaze to him, and he watched as her upper lip curled back from her teeth.

“Do you not feel it necessary to bow to the King?” Oberon’s voice thundered through the hall, similar to a thousand charging horses.

Wilder squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. She was going to die within the first few moments of ever meeting his father. It had been pointless to work so tirelessly to keep her on this side of the ground when she was adamant to be laid beneath it.

“You’re no King of mine,” Lyra replied, her voice was so steady, as if she were merely discussing the weather.

Gasps swelled throughout the elves gathered.

“Leave us!”

The wind couldn’t have flown faster than the speed at which the elves fled the throne room. Only four remained.

Wilder, Otto, Ridge, and Maelys.

Lyra gave them a quick once-over and tried to hide the alarm on her face. They were different here in their true forms. Maelys had been lovely before, but now she looked like a ray of sunshine.

Glimmering golden-brown hair, a smattering of freckles across her pert nose and cheeks, eyes sparkling. The very air seemed to swirl around her, giving her the appearance offloating as her blush gown rippled and swirled. A tiny blue bird was perched on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck.

Otto had iridescent skin and milky eyes that looked more through you than at you. Long white hair was decorated with black beads that had markings carved into them. His light gray tunic and matching breeches matched the color his eyes had been in the mortal realm.