Lydia
Worry coiled in the base of Lydia's stomach as she guided Wilder to one of the back rooms in Hawk's house. Beyond the exhausted look in his eyes, there was a haunted quality that made Lydia ache for him. He shuffled more than walked and Lydia could see the weariness about him.
At the sight of the bed, he let out a low sigh. He sat down and as he unbuckled his sword, Lydia tugged off his boots. He laid down, his eyes already closed, his sword within reach. But his eyes snapped back open a second later.
"Ly, where are you sleeping?" he said. "I should be-"
He started to rise but Lydia pressed down on his shoulder. It spoke to his level of fatigue that her simple touch could force him to lay back down.
"You need to sleep, Wilder," she said, perching on the edge of his mattress.
"But you-"
"I will be okay."
Wilder looked like he wanted to argue but Lydia saw how his body struggled to stay awake. She began to hum. It was a soft lullaby that every mother in the West Isles knew. Wilder watched her, his eyelids losing their strength to stay open. Lydia kept humming even as her throat tightened now and again as she heard her mother's voice singing in her head.
Half asleep, Wilder found Lydia's hand and held it to his chest with both of his. Lydia blinked hard, trying to fight tears. Barely a man and he looked battle weary. Because of her.
Because of her, the boy she knew was gone. Because of her, he'd killed.
At times, flashes of seeing him cut through men burst in her mind and she couldn't wipe them away. Couldn't unsee the speed and ferocity in which Wilder handled the attackers. Couldn't forget the stench of blood and how it only reminded her of her dead family.
Sometimes in her worst dreams, it wasn't unknown assassins that murdered her family but Wilder. His face calm, his manner in control.
Guilt burned Lydia's throat and stung her eyes. It was the worst type of nightmare, because everything Wilder did, he did for her.
She felt so tired of death, but she couldn't say that to the one person who killed so that she might live.
The thought choked Lydia and she stopped humming. But it didn't matter, Wilder was fast asleep, his head turned away from her. From the corner of her eye, Lydia caught the outline of a tall figure.
"How is he doing?"
It's not her. It's not her. It's not...
Lydia forced herself to keep breathing. Something she'd had to do every time she heard Kiera speak with her lilting Seau accent or saw a glimpse of her dark skin as she passed just out of sight. She had to remind herself over and over again that her mother was dead. Each reminder felt like a splinter burying deeper and deeper into her heart.
"Mama," Lydia said, tucked into her mother's arms.
"Yes, my sweet," Suri said, brushing her lips across Lydia's brow.
Lydia gazed up at her mother, doubts swirling around her four-year-old head.
"Are you really my mama?"
Queen Suri let out a breath of surprise.
"Of course, why would ask such a question?"
"Then why don't we look the same?"
With this question, Lydia lifted her arm. In contrast to her mother's ebony skin, Lydia's was a warm brown. Suri gave a light laugh that always managed to make Lydia smile. But this time it didn't, she wanted the truth.
"Oh, my dearest little one," Suri said, cupping Lydia's round cheek. "When your father and I decided to make you from love, we wanted you to have part of both of us." She tugged at a strand of Lydia's hair. "You have my hair." She touched Lydia's cheek. "Your father's dimples. My eyes." She tapped Lydia's chest. "And his fierce heart and wild spirit." She beamed. "This way, no matter where you go in life, we will always be a part of you."
A tear slid down Lydia's cheek.
"He's okay. Tired," she said, answering Kiera.
Kiera walked into the room, pausing beside Lydia, glancing between the pair.
"He has taken on so much for one so young," she said. "Reminds me of Alwyn's mother, Isla."
Lydia lifted her head. "You knew her?"
Taking a chair from a corner, Kiera brought it over and sat down, gazing at Wilder, but lost in a memory.
"I do. I helped raise her," she said. "She lost a mother at three and her father later on. She was so young when the burden of caring for a crew landed on her. But some trials break a person, and some only make them stronger."
Lydia turned her head away. She knew she belonged in the former group. She thought she knew who she was. Weeks ago she could have said as much. But now...
She was a Princess without a kingdom.
A daughter and sister without a family.
A girl without a home.
She felt like a seagull trapped in a storm with no way out, tossed about with the winds. And around her everyone knew who they were, knew their place on the crew.
"How..." Lydia cleared her throat. "How did she manage to be strong when everything around her..."
Felt too heavy. Felt like it could all disappear with a single breath. Felt so unknown and terrifying.
Kiera leaned forward, her eyes sympathetic as they regarded Lydia.
"She did it because she had to, people depended on her."
What could Lydia say to that? In truth, she had an entire kingdom depending on her and if she thought about that for too long she feared she'd shatter under the pressure of it all. She was one girl. She wasn't meant to lead a kingdom. She didn't want to be a queen.
"I can't..." Lydia choked on her confession. To say how she felt utterly inadequate was admitting weakness. How could she admit that when she was surrounded by so many people that showed courage?
When she tried to take a breath, she found she couldn't like her lungs decided to stop working. She gasped and Kiera touched her cheek.
"You dear child," she said.
Where Wilder's touch strengthened her, this touch broke her. It was the kindness of a mother and Lydia desperately needed it. Tears fell down her face. Kiera drew Lydia into her arms and Lydia held onto her. She felt like a mother, strong and loving. She let herself imagine for a moment that it was her mother holding her, whispering that it would be okay.
When she hiccuped, Wilder stirred as if roused by her pain. He swiveled his head to her, eyes still closed but a wrinkle in his brow. Knowing he needed sleep, Lydia gathered her broken pieces together.
She exited the room with Kiera, casting one last look back once at her friend, the one who'd taken on so much for her. Kiera eased the door shut and Lydia wiped her face, wishing everything would stop making her want to cry.
"You know," Kiera said. "Strength isn't always physical, isn't always being able to fight a battle or crew a ship." Lydia raised her eyes to Kiera's. "Sometimes strength is helping someone else even when you are struggling with your own troubles."
Lydia didn't respond. She didn't know who to help, everyone was so self-sufficient.
"Prince Zavier," Kiera said. "He will need help. On a ship with not enough crew members, if someone were to watch over him, it would be more hands on deck."
Hope sparked in Lydia's chest. Could it be as simple as that? Could she find a way to not feel so lost? When she'd offered to help feed him it had been because she saw he couldn't do it himself. But that simple act had made her feel like she had a purpose, even if a small one.
"You don't have to think about it now," Kiera said, misreading Lydia's silence. "Come, you look like you could use a cup of tea."
With one arm around Lydia, Kiera guided her into the kitchen. They paused in the doorway. Across from Alwyn and Cyrus sat a girl and boy Lydia had never seen before, though Seau by their complexion.
Seeing Lydia, the newcomers leapt to their feet. The boy was taller and broader than the petite girl. Lydia staggered back at the sudden motion, fear spiking in her chest as she remembered how the sailors swarmed the ship.
Instead of attacking, the girl curtsied and the boy bowed.
"Princess Lydia," the girl said.
"It is an honor," the boy completed.
Lydia stared at them, her heart still ramming away against her sternum. They knew her, but they weren't going to attack her. She didn't understand what that meant.
"You know each other?" Alwyn asked, sending her gaze between the pair and Lydia.
Lydia couldn't speak, trying to calm her still rapid heartbeat.
The girl smiled softly but shook her head. "No, Princess Lydia is sure not to know my brother or me. But we know her." She turned kind eyes to Lydia. "Princess...I mean Queen Suri is beloved by all her people and we know Princess Lydia from when she visited Seau a season ago. You are still talked of with love, Your Highness. You are Queen Suri's daughter and therefore have our appreciation."
Lydia couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Hearing her mother talked about it as if she were still alive, still the same vivacious Queen everyone knew and loved felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest.
"I must say I am surprised to find you here, Your Highness, instead of the palace with your family."
All the air was sucked from the room as Alwyn and Cyrus exchanged a look and the girl's smiled flattered, sensing the shift. Lydia thought watching her family die had been the hardest she'd faced. But somehow hearing how they were still alive for someone else felt worse like it meant they would die all over again.
Kiera directed Lydia to a chair and urged her to sit.
"Yasmine, Dempsey," Cyrus said, quietly. "You should sit down."
"What has happened?" Yasmine asked.
Lydia kept her eyes locked on the table beneath her hands, touching the tiny groves, feeling how time had softened the edges. Wishing the same thing could happen to the jagged edges of her heart.
"They were murdered," Lydia said. "All of them."
Yasmine gasped and put her hand over her mouth while Dempsey curled his large hands.
"Who did this?" he asked, his deep voice laced with anger.
The furious ring in his tone struck a chord inside Lydia. She regarded him, somehow comforted by his anger. It was a thing to be angry about. Lives were taken from her. Not only from her but from their people, their kingdom.
"We don't know for certain," Cyrus said. "When we escaped the West Isles, we were pursued. We managed to take one of the attackers captive."
This was news to Lydia and she wondered why Wilder hadn't told her. But dismissed that, she wouldn't have wanted to know, and he would know that.
"He was hired by a man from the North Isles. We've tried to get more from him but it doesn't seem he knew more than that."
"That means the North Isles king, King Titus is behind this," Dempsey said. "Your Highness, has the West Isles had troubles with the North?"
Shame crawled into Lydia's chest. She didn't know. She hated politics and had never taken thought for them. Looking back she felt embarrassed how she'd worked so hard to avoid lessons and talk of important matters, for now, she didn't even know if there was contention between her family's kingdom and the kingdom in the North.
"I don't know," she said.
Kiera set a cup of steaming tea before Lydia. The scent of mint floated around her. Lydia took it but felt as if she shouldn't deserve this kindness or the warmth from the mug. She'd failed her family.
"What is the next step?" Yasmine asked, her countenance as determined as her brother's.
"We plan to sail to Loria," Alwyn said. "Prince Zavier was in the palace when it was attacked but managed to get out with his head of guard, Joric."
"Of course, since he is betrothed to Princess Vienna," Yasmine said. She cleared her throat, offering an apology with her eyes to Lydia. "Was betrothed."
"You knew that?" Alwyn asked.
"Of course, like I said Seau people care deeply for Queen Suri and her family."
In her words, Lydia heard a vehemence that spoke, not only of hers but the nation's loyalty. Tears pricked Lydia's eyes. That was the power of her mother, that she instilled such love in the people around her. Growing up, her father had told her how Suri became the Queen of a foreign kingdom and won the citizen's hearts.
"Your Highness," Dempsey said. "Whatever you need, know that my sister and I will aid you however we can."
Alwyn shifted in her chair and crossed her arms, but said nothing, lips pressed firmly together. Cyrus threw her a look. Lydia didn't understand the secret meanings behind the actions.
"Thank you," she said.
Yasmine and Dempsey both dipped their heads in support. It felt too much, too heavy thinking about what needed to happen once they got to Loria. She needed to leave.
"Please excuse me," she said. "I wish to sleep."
Yasmine and Dempsey both stood in respect.
"Of course, Your Highness," Dempsey said.
Lydia slipped from the room and headed down the hallway to where Wilder slept. The patter of footsteps behind her made her stop.
"Your Highness," Yasmine said. "I don't wish to overstep boundaries, but I wonder if I might share something with you."
Lydia nodded, even though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what this girl who was so loyal to her mother had to say.
"Dempsey and I lost our parents a year ago," she said.
"Oh, I am sorry."
"Thank you, Your Highness. At their Burning, our minister shared something with me that has helped me each day and I hope it might help you."
The candlelight from the sconces on the wall made Yasmine's dark skin glow, giving her an almost ethereal look.
"He told me that the ones we lose, are never gone," she said. "For the ones that you love the most have the biggest impact on your life. They walk with you. They live in your hearts. They are part of you."
Yasmine reached out as if to touch Lydia's arm but pulled back before she did. "I hope that brings you some peace, Your Highness."
As she walked away, Lydia stood there, gathering every word to her. Walk with her. Live in her heart. Part of her.
Lydia thought of her father's fierce spirit. Her mother's steadiness in every matter. Corwin's sobriety of life. Reen's compassion to everyone. Vienna's understanding of duty. All parts of them in her?
"This way, no matter where you go in life, we will always be a part of you."
Lydia drifted to her bed, holding the thought to her chest. Alive in her. Part of her, they were a part of her. As she laid down, for the first time since she'd watched them die, she didn't feel like her family was completely gone.
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"The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all."
(Royally royals that's some wise words from Mulan's dad)
By royal decree - by someone who is royal which clearly isn't me - you must tell thee...me...thee thoughts...to we...? Okay, yeah I dropped the rhyme, whatever just tell me what's on your mind. 👑⚔️🛡
Yasmine! Dempsey! Hi! Oh my gosh it's so great to have you here. I'm excited to talk to you cause no one else will talk to me and...
*walks away*
What! Where are you going? Come back we have so...much...to...talk...oh poo! Why do all of my characters refuse to talk to me! Holy ships this is annoying.
*Sits down on the floor and sniffles with the clear intent of having you come over and cheer me up...preferably with ice cream*
*waits. Looks at you*
Saw through that ruse, did ya? Fine! I'll get my own ice cream and grumble about my own characters to myself, not like that's nothing new!
*storms off grumbling like an old crazy person*
Question for you reader: what is the weirdest question you could ask someone?
Reader question from bianca_fitzgerald: What do you do when you're not writing?
Απάντηση του συγγραφέα (Greek): You know, I live an absolutely wild life! I mean you would not believe the crazy hijinks I get up to! I mean it's so crazy that I can't even tell you cause if I did the FBI might see this and come after me.
And believe you me you do not want Carter and Donovan after you because they might look scary and terrify but they are SCARY AND TERRIFYING! All caps, other FBI agents are lower caps, not the Dream Team, they are all caps! It's crazy! So crazy that thinking about it you'll completely forgotten that I haven't answered your question at all instead you'll spend hours thinking about how crazy it is while I sneak away...
Oh don't forget to vote, comment, follow! (you know forget that last one, I can't have Carter and Donovan tailing you because you follow me!)