A Royal's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 6 - "You'll both have to come with us."

Memory after memory of her sister cut with images of her bleeding out hit Lydia, bringing her to her knees. She couldn't be gone. Lydia could still hear her voice, still see her smile. Why wasn't she here? Lydia tried to breathe but her lungs wouldn't work.

From far away Lydia could hear knocking, but it felt faint compared to the voice of her sister in her head. Her sister who easily spoke with dignity as she commented about uniting the kingdoms through marriage as she easily spoke with a mischievous tone at rumors of Prince Zavier's dashing good looks. Her sister whose voice she would never hear again.

"Ly, are you okay?"

Once when Lydia was younger her father had taken her to the beach and she'd gotten caught in the undercurrent. Over and over the waves pummeled her, dragged her under. When she'd risen to the surface another wave swept her under. It felt like it had lasted for an eternity before her father saved her.

Now Lydia felt caught in that same undercurrent and couldn't come up for air. Every time she thought she could fight the grief, it knocked her down again and again and her father wasn't there to save her. He was gone. They were all gone. How could they all be gone? How was she all alone?

All at once, she rose from the floor, lifted by two strong arms. She teetered on weak legs but managed to stay upright.

"Ly, look at me," Wilder said, gripping her arms. "Open your eyes, Ly. I'm right here."

She did and found him staring at her, his hazel eyes grounding her to this moment, this room. When he cupped her face, she curled her fingers, digging them into her palms, battling her grief, fighting the memories storming her mind. He brushed a thumb over her cheek and Lydia swallowed, holding onto his tenderness.

"We have to get moving," Wilder said.

Lydia nodded, unable to talk, afraid her voice might break. Gathering the clothes Lydia had been wearing, Wilder led her out of the room. On the floor outside sat two rucksacks filled with what had previously been in the saddlebags. After stowing the clothes in one of the sacks, Wilder hoisted it onto his shoulder. When he reached for the second, Lydia took it instead.

"I can carry it," she said.

She needed the weight on her shoulder, needed it to keep her from drifting into the past. With a nod, he led her back to the foyer but stopped suddenly. Lydia bumped into him, caught off guard by the abrupt halt.

When she looked away from Wilder, she saw Mathis wearing a superior expression while standing beside two royal guards. Lydia felt her heart stutter. Were they real guards? Or where they assassins with stolen uniforms like the servants? Were they here for her?

"Amos, these are the two thieves," Mathis said, looking to the older of the guards as he gestured to Lydia and Wilder as if the guards hadn't seen them. "I found the royal crest on the saddle to the Kalish stallion they clearly stole."

Lydia gripped the back of Wilder's shirt when she noticed Amos rest a hand on the hilt of his sword. Wilder nudged Lydia behind him and raised his hands.

"You'll both have to come with us," Amos said.

"I understand how this may appear," Wilder said, calmly. "The horse was not stolen."

Mathis jutted out his chin. "How do you explain the royal crest?"

Wilder paused and while the guards took that as guilt, Lydia knew he wavered on how much to tell before knowing more himself.

"Where are you guards stationed?" Wilder asked.

The younger guard with cropped hair narrowed his eyes.