Wilder
The sword glinted in the sunlight as it bore down on Wilder. He raised his blade to meet it, the metal clashing. In a blink, the sword broke away and struck again. Wilder met it yet again. Over and over, strike after strike came for Wilder but he parried them all. Still, Alwyn continued to attack viciously. She was like a viper, darting in then out.
"Focus on your follow-through," Wilder said as he blocked another attack. "You're thinking too much of your next move that you are weakening on the end."
Alwyn didn't respond, but Wilder knew she heard him from her pinched brows. The next time she swung at him, she kept her focus, making his arm jolt as the blades met. They made a wide circle, Wilder retreating as Alwyn charged forward. He knew most of the crew watched them, but Alwyn was too fast for him to dare take his eye off her.
He noticed her grinding her teeth as he easily deflected a perfect cut.
"Keep emotions in control," he said. "They will be your downfall if you give in. Let your frustration fuel you, making you quicker, stronger."
Unlike the previous advice, Alwyn visibly struggled with this one more. It was understandable, everyone had their areas of weakness.
Despite Wilder's comments, he knew they made a good match. His dominant strength was balanced by her fierceness. Her swiftness was balanced by his muscle memory.
As they fought, Wilder gave ground. Until in a rush, he surged forward, twisted his sword against Alwyn's, breaking it from her grasp, and closed the distance between them, his blade at her throat.
"I like this one," Wilder heard Raif say. "Can we kidnap him and keep him?"
"I did that once and it didn't go as planned," Isla returned.
Wilder barely heard the end of the conversation, his attention locked on Alwyn. They both stood there, breathing hard, sweat trailing down their faces from the sun and exertion. Neither of them had been holding back.
"Remember," Wilder said, remaining before her. "Simply because an opponent gives ground doesn't mean he doesn't have a strategy."
"I should be prepared then," Alwyn said.
It was then Wilder felt the point of a knife in his ribs. He couldn't help it, he smiled. This girl was a worthy opponent. Fast and cunning. He admired her for that.
"Your throat would still be cut," he said.
"True. And you would bleed out in a minute."
Wilder took a step back and lowered his sword. Alwyn spun her dagger and slipped it into her boot. One of the sailors approached Wilder with a mug of water and he gratefully accepted it.
"You lost," Cyrus said to Alwyn. "But is that a smile I see, Wyn?"
Wilder glanced over in time to see Alwyn's grin morph into a scowl. Cyrus laughed and Alwyn looked at Wilder, shaking her head, denying her brother's statement. Shoving her mug into Cyrus's stomach, Alwyn went to retrieve her sword. She raised it towards Wilder.
"Shall we?" she asked.
Her eyes gleamed with a challenge, a love of a good fight. It contrasted her golden hair, round face, and lithe figure.
Yet somehow Wilder found the strange contrast captivating. Who could ever guess there was so much fire in one person? His intrigue left him off his guard. A fact Alwyn seized, striking at him. Only a lifetime of training protected him, his body acting even before his mind did.
Alwyn laughed. "I almost had you there."
"Almost."
They circled each other, but before either of them could make a move, a shout rang overhead.
"Land spotted!"
All thoughts of the fight vanished from Wilder's mind. He sheathed his sword and raced for the bow of the ship. The salty sea breeze greeted him, cooling his hot skin. But Wilder didn't notice, he only saw the coastline of Loria.
Alwyn stopped beside him. With her presence, Wilder realized she'd helped him not worry about Lydia or the pain of leaving his father for a brief time. Both of them had sat heavily on him. But sparring with her had made thoughts of anything else impossible. He found he was grateful for the reprieve.
"I've never met anyone as loyal as Zavier," Alwyn said. "I know that there is nothing he wouldn't do to make sure the Princess was safe."
Wilder nodded but knew no words would compare to seeing the truth with his eyes. Knowing more about the type of man King Titus was, with his manipulation and abuse, meant protecting Lydia, and seeing her on the throne was the most important thing.
Wilder waited for the familiar ache of Lydia being Queen and married to Zavier to hit. But when it did, it didn't strike like a blow from Alwyn, instead it slowly slid into his chest as unobtrusive as the wind. Still there but not crippling.
"I'm going to gather my things," Wilder said. Once the plank hit the dock, he'd be the first one off the ship.
As he turned away, Alwyn snagged his arm. Though her fingers were slender, they couldn't hide the strength they possessed. Alwyn might not have inherited her mother's leadership but she had inherited her strength.
"Thank you," she said, her blue eyes holding his. "For training me."
The emotion in her voice told him her gratitude went deeper than sword training. He stared at her, no longer seeing the girl who'd flung her anger at him like it was hot coals that night he'd spoken the truth. Instead, he saw the girl who had stopped him from recklessly charging into the palace, didn't judge him for breaking down over his father, or for throwing rocks in his anger.
"A trainer is only worth anything if the person is willing to be trained," Wilder said.
Alwyn released him and Wilder hurried below decks. When he re-emerged, he walked to the quarterdeck, where Isla and Raif stood. Loria took on shape and Wilder could make out levels of rooftops.
"Isla," Wilder said. "You have already done more for Princess Lydia then I could ask for, I want to ask you one more thing."
Isla merely raised her eyebrows in question.
"Come to the palace and be a part of the strategy discussion. You have an insight to getting into difficult places that I need."
Isla shot Raif a look and Wilder figured she was aware of how much her husband talked about her and shared the adventures she'd been on. Raif grinned back at her and she shook her head, though her lips spoke of her amusement. It was an intimate moment that Wilder had seen them share countless times over their journey. It seemed to go beyond husband and wife to a deep friendship, a connection between two kindred souls.
"We will come," she said. "Raif doesn't talk about himself but he understands how to use a situation to one's advantage."
"Thank you," Wilder said. "And thank you both for all you've done for the Princess."
"It's our pleasure," Raif said. "Besides, we were getting a little bored."
At least Wilder understood where Alwyn got her thirst for adventure from.
As the crew prepared to dock, Wilder kept out of the way near the railing. The ship glided up to the pier and sailors jumped over to secure the ship. Wilder decided not to wait for the gangplank. He clutched the railing and swung himself over, landing with a solid thud on the wooden dock.
"Wilder," Alwyn called out.
Wilder peered up as Alwyn hoisted herself over the railing and dropped to the dock. She landed gracefully on her toes, barely making a sound. He figured that came from a lifetime of repeating the action.
"Were you planning to run all the way to the palace?" she asked.
He had.
"Come on, there is a tavern here that loans horses for a price," she said.
"Thank you."
They cut through the chaos of the port towards a tavern with a duck etched onto the wooden sign above the door. Telling Wilder to wait, Alwyn went in and returned a minute later. She leaned against the tavern wall, surveying the swarming scene.
Wilder watched her. She seemed so at home on the docks, pieces of her hair falling loose, her clothes weathered by the sunlight and the sea. It's how he felt on the training grounds. Neither of them was meant for a palace, yet that's where they'd give their hearts.
A stable boy emerged from the alley beside the tavern, guiding a brown mare. Wilder reached for the reins but stopped, seeing how there wasn't a second horse.
"You aren't coming with me?" he asked.
"I know you could barely go anywhere without me in the West Isles," she teased. "But I think you can survive a trip to the palace without me."
Wilder simply stared at her and she shook her head.
"I have to help with the ship first," Alwyn said.
"But you will come?"
"I gave you a promise to help, didn't I?"
With that assurance, Wilder swung into the saddle. "Thank you, Alwyn."
"I know," she mocked. "You would be helpless to get to the palace without me getting you a horse."
Wilder didn't return her smile but held her gaze.
"I mean it. Thank you."
He hoped she understood his gratitude went beyond acquiring her a horse. It was how she helped him leave that dungeon when all he wanted to do was stay. How she didn't judge him for breaking down. How she understood a part of him that no one had before.
Alwyn gripped Wilder's arm and he knew she understood. "The thanks goes both ways."
When she stepped back, Wilder nodded and nudged the horse into action. As he got away from the congested port, he urged the horse faster. Soon he tore through the streets, making for the palace that shone like a symbol of strength. Wilder hoped that strength had protected Lydia.
The beat of the horse's hooves echoed Wilder's heart. Protect Lydia, protect Lydia. That mantra had carried him out of Lydia's palace and now it carried him to a different one. He'd had to leave his father behind, which only meant one thing to Wilder, he would see that Lydia was safe so he could return. His father's command to protect her meant more now, knowing that his father would know whether Wilder succeeded or failed.
Wilder reigned the horse in at the palace gates. Two guards clutched their spears, ready to attack. Wilder understood their caution, he was unshaven, dirty, sweaty, and armed with all his weapons. He could imagine the threat he appeared to be.
"No need to fear," he said, rifling through his pack and retrieving a thick folded piece of paper. He handed it down to the closest guard. On the paper was Nolan's order that Wilder be given entry. It was signed by him as well as the King and Queen and stamped with their seal. It had been Nolan's parting gift.
"Open the gates," the guard called.
Two men on the other side hauled the gates open. Wilder collected his paper and kicked the horse's side. With the palace in sight, the desperation to see Lydia doubled. He had to be certain she was okay, know that the royal family had done as promised.
As he drew the horse up to the front steps, a stablehand jogged out. Wilder leapt down and held out the reins.
"This horse belongs to the Duck and Barrel tavern, please see that it's returned," Wilder said.
The boy nodded and took the reins.
"Do you know where Princess Lydia is?" Wilder asked.
"No, sir."
Wilder rushed up the steps and through the palace doors. In the foyer, he paused searching for a servant he could inquire to. When none appeared, he charged up the stairs to Lydia's chambers. He burst inside, shocking a maid. She let out a startled scream and Wilder held up his hands.
"My apologies," he said. "I'm looking for Princess Lydia."
When the maid didn't respond right away, panic seized Wilder. Was it because she was no longer there? Had something happened to her?
"She's..." The maid cleared her throat and Wilder felt fear course through him. "She's at the training grounds, sir."
Wilder spun on his heels and took off, bolting for the door and down the hallway. A servant jumped out of his way as he raced around a corner. He didn't apologize, already too far away.
Cool Lorian sunlight bathed Wilder as he ran through the manicured grounds towards the training area. The peace and beauty of his surroundings couldn't counterbalance the urgency Wilder felt.
"Princess Lydia?" Wilder said to the first soldier he came upon.
The man gave a knowing smile. "She's with the Prince. Over there."
He pointed to a space away from the sparring soldiers, beside a line of practice posts. Wilder left without a word of thanks, skirting the fighting pairs. He approached Lydia and Zavier but stumbled to a halt, struggling to take in what he was seeing.
"Good," Zavier said. "But you are stepping out too far, you will lose your balance that way. Take a smaller step."
The words were kind and encouraging and meant for Lydia. Lydia who faced Zavier with a sword. Lydia wearing a shirt and trousers. Lydia with a sword! How.... When... She....
Wilder stood frozen, his heart still beating erratically.
"Again," Zavier said, his own wooden sword blocking her attack.
Lydia pushed forward, her movements sure, if not completely graceful. But still, she was holding a sword and wasn't falling into a panic from doing so. Zavier moved with Lydia, his movements fluid. As he rotated, he spotted Wilder.
"Wilder," he said.
Lydia whipped around and a smile lit up her face.
Wilder almost buckled under the sight. Lydia smiling. Lydia laughing as she ran to him and hugged him.
"You're back," Lydia said. "I worried about you."
She smelled like something sweet as well as sweat and dirt. She smelled alive. She was, Lydia was alive. Alive in a way he'd feared she might never be again. He looked to Zavier, who stared at the ground, absently poking the edge of his wooden sword into the dirt.
Zavier.
Lydia smiled and laughed, but Wilder hadn't been the one to restore her spirit.
Slowly, Wilder unwound his arms from Lydia. She released him and stepped back, her smile still there. That smile he'd been afraid she'd lost forever. She'd found it...without him.
Wilder tried to quell the jealousy and hurt that rose inside him, arguing against it. What did it matter who helped Lydia heal? What mattered was that she was better.
"You look tired," Lydia said, half laughing. "And in need of a bath and shave."
She reached up to touch his jaw, but Wilder caught her hand before she could. He couldn't do this. She couldn't touch him like she had. He didn't ache as deeply as he once had but Wilder didn't want to return there. Not when he knew his job and place.
Lydia bubbled over with questions but Wilder hardly heard her.
When he lowered her hand, he spotted something that filled him with ice. On her forearm were faded bruises. Bruises that looked distinctively like a man's hand. Fire seared through him.
If one of the guards or princes dared touch Lydia, there was no telling what he'd do to them. Protect Lydia. That was his father's order and Wilder would see to it. He didn't care if it meant taking her from the palace and hiding her away.
He raised his head and this time Zavier was looking at him. Wilder held Lydia's arm and Zavier shook his head. Not him, but there was a story here Wilder needed to hear.
"I can have a servant get you food," Lydia said.
Wilder focused on her again. "That would be nice, thank you. I do need to bathe." He locked eyes with Zavier. "I will be in my room."
Zavier dipped his head, understanding Wilder's silent order.
"I'll walk with you," Lydia said. "Zavier, could you care for my sword?"
"Of course, Princess."
Though Zavier didn't smile, Wilder heard how a quiet smile seemed to wrap around her title. Lydia wasn't the only one who'd changed in his absence.
Not wanting to dwell on it, Wilder inspected Lydia. "You're in trousers again, Ly."
"Yes, Zavier had them made for me," she said. "I feel more like myself. At least I didn't have to buy them off one of the servants this time."
Zavier. Wilder saw how fine the shirt and the trousers were. Despite not being items fit for a Princess, somehow Zavier had seen that they were. Wilder didn't know how Zavier knew this was who Lydia used to be, a girl daring enough to roam free in commoners' clothes. But he'd done this for her. Same as he'd helped her find her smile. How had he succeeded where Wilder failed?
Lydia talked the whole way to Wilder's room and he'd never known that her light voice could both break his heart and heal it.
When they stepped inside, Lydia surveyed his room like she hadn't seen it before. Wilder slid his pack off his shoulders and set it on the floor, closely followed by his weapon. It felt strange having this room when his status didn't merit this type of accommodations.
"I'll let you clean up and rest," Lydia said, inching back to the door. "I'll also let the King and Queen know you're here. We can meet later and...and hear about what you learned."
Wilder realized for the first time what Lydia's chatter had actually been: a veil to mask her worry over knowing what was happening in her kingdom.
Wilder wanted to reassure her, but couldn't. A foreign King had taken over and her people were being kept under watchful eyes. Added with the fact that entering the kingdom with soldiers was almost completely impossible, he couldn't say anything.
"We will figure it out," he said.
Lydia offered him a small smile. "I'm happy you're safe."
When she closed the door behind her, Wilder remained standing, staring at it. In the time that he'd been gone it felt like she'd changed but he didn't. Losing his father was as fresh as ever, made all the worse since he was alive but locked away. She'd found a new peace, he still lived in grief only a different type.
For the first time since Wilder had known Lydia, it felt like their lives were truly diverging.
Wilder heard footsteps and shoved aside his thoughts and emotions. Whatever he and Lydia were or would be could be puzzled out later. Right then, he needed answers.
Zavier entered Wilder's room and was greeted by a stern, arms-crossed Wilder. All the anger Wilder experienced at seeing Lydia's arm rushed back to him. Zavier had made him a promise and he'd broken it.
"Tell me," Wilder said.
Zavier sank back against the door and combed his fingers through his hair.
"I have to ask for your forgiveness because I failed you," he said. "And I failed her."
Wilder hated this man. Why couldn't he have a flaw? How was Wilder supposed to rip him apart when Zavier willingly offered himself?
"What happened?" Wilder said, still not relaxing his stance.
"After you left, Lydia struggled and one night she panicked. I helped calm her down by taking her to a park with fruit trees gifted by the West Isles."
Wilder tried to ignore the twist of pain at having left Lydia as well as the twinge of jealousy Zavier was there for her when he wasn't.
"It helped her feel more comfortable," Zavier continued. "We walked there every night after dinner." He dragged a hand down his face. "I should have been more careful, seen what the routine meant. We were attacked. I fought but got hit in the head. When I woke up, Lydia...she was gone. Men had taken her and boarded a ship."
She was safe. She was in the palace. She was safe. Lydia was safe. Wilder said the words over and over in his mind because the image of her being taken was far too vivid.
"You must have had a fast ship in order to catch them," Wilder said, focusing on the end of the story. This one had a good ending, Lydia was safe.
Zavier pushed himself off the door, his manner no longer sorrowful but animated.
"Wilder, the incredible part is that neither I nor my guards saved Lydia," he said.
"What?"
Zavier grasped Wilder's arms, his eyes burning with something that reiterated the fact that Lydia wasn't the only one who'd changed.
"She saved herself," Zavier said, awed. "She escaped and swam back to Loria. I reached the docks moments after she reached them." He smiled. "She did it."
Wilder would have staggered back if not for Zavier's hold.
"She escaped?"
Zavier let go and nodded. All Wilder could see was how previously Lydia shrank away from the attackers on the other ship, how she'd hid behind Zavier. She'd been strong enough to escape on her own.
Wilder sat, hitting the edge of the settee. He dropped his head into his hands, fighting back relieved tears. She wasn't lost. She'd found her strength again. The fear of thinking the girl he knew had died along with her family slowly released its hold on Wilder.
Zavier gripped Wilder's shoulder and despite having wanted to tear the man apart moments before, Wilder felt comforted.
"I can't believe she did it," Wilder said.
"I found it hard to believe as well, but she did. And she can hold a sword without panicking."
"How did you manage that?"
Zavier grinned down at the floor and Wilder looked away.
"I told her the truth, that anyone who could save themselves was strong enough to defend themselves."
Zavier's soft tone was too much for Wilder and he stood, needing space.
"Thank you," he said. "For all that you've done."
Zavier made for the door. "I would do anything for the Princess."
After what he'd seen, Wilder didn't doubt this and somehow that calmed and hurt him. Zavier opened the door but paused.
"I do not know if you have been told," he said. "But her uncle arrived in Loria the same day Lydia and I were attacked. I have heard his story but I know you will want to hear it yourself."
Confusion and apprehension tugged at Wilder but he held them at bay. He would wait to hear this story himself before making judgments. But the fact was he didn't like the timing, something felt strange.
*****
Wilder walked into the war room, clean-shaven and smelling far better than he had an hour before. He still felt tired and ragged from the journey but those were discomforts he could handle for now.
The room was crowded with the royal family, Lydia, Alwyn, and her family as well as Sparrow. Meeting the Crown Prince, Dimitrius was like meeting a younger version of the King, straightforward and commanding without being domineering.
As Wilder found an empty spot at the table, Alwyn met his gaze. She nodded. The simple gesture somehow said so many things: they would figure this out, together they could reclaim the kingdom, he wasn't alone.
When the doors to the war room opened again, Wilder straightened as Prince Kristoff walked in. Though it had been over a year since Wilder had seen the Prince, he looked the same, only a little gaunt. Beside Kristoff were four guards, ones Wilder didn't recognize but that didn't surprise him. The West Isles army was vast, Wilder couldn't have met all of his father's soldiers.
"Thank you for coming," Wilder said, quieting the side conversations.
Kristoff bowed his head and claimed a seat across from Lydia. She sent her uncle a smile and he returned it. In the exchange Wilder could see the trust Lydia had for her uncle. Wilder only hoped after hearing his story that he'd feel the same way. The guards spread out around the room.
"You can wait outside," King Thayer said.
Wilder appreciated him saying this, the information they were about to share couldn't leave this room. It didn't matter if these guards were loyal to Kristoff or not.
"We are here to protect the Prince," one of the guards said.
"The King gave you an order," Nolan said, narrowing his eyes.
"Our duty is to the Prince, to his protection," the guard said.
Wilder pressed his hands into the table and staring down the guard. "I will tell you this, if I wanted to kill the Prince, your presence would not be enough to stop me. I could have a dagger in his chest before you could take a step. Now, leave."
The words weren't simply to make a point to the guards, it was a warning to Kristoff. Wilder didn't trust him. Not yet. The guards paused, sharing looks.
"Leave now, or I force you out."
Kristoff nodded to the guard nearest him and still the guards hesitated. But then he motioned for his men to follow him and they left.
"Can anyone hear us from outside?" Wilder asked the King.
"No."
"Good. Now, I want to know everything," Wilder said.
Wilder sat back in his chair and listened to Kristoff's story.
Unbelievable. The entire story was unbelievable, yet it made sense.
When Kristoff finished, no one spoke. It was Nolan who had the head to keep everything moving forward. Always a commander. Wilder appreciated that about him.
"What did you discover in the West Isles?" he asked.
Wilder glanced at Lydia but she sat with her fingers laced together, resting on the table as she contemplated them. His heart went out to her, strength wasn't always the same in every situation. Zavier touched Lydia's arm and she raised her head to him.
"This is what we know," Wilder said, needing not to think about the things said in those two gestures.
He broke down all they'd learned: the soldiers in the jail, the ports closed off, how inaccessible they were with a ship intercepting vessels, the North Isles coming into the city under the guise of support, King Titus continuing the charade of Corwin alive but wounded in order to control the people, Titus in control of the palace, and the men locked away in the dungeon only alive because of the few remaining loyal servants.
Wilder omitted the fact that his father was one of those prisoners. With the state he was in, he wouldn't be able to fight even if Wilder did free him. Instead, they needed to focus on what was important, getting into the city.
The silence that followed all the information lasted far longer than the previous one. The impossibility of the task hung over all of them. Wilder knew of the strength of Loria's army. But what good was an army if they were stuck in a ship at sea? He knew how Isla performed some impossible break-in schemes but what good was one person or even a few against an occupied city?
Slowly, ideas started to make their way into the room. No one had to shoot them down, the facts did that for them. As time slipped away, Wilder felt helplessness seep in. How do you defeat a giant when you're an ant? Wilder's mother had told a tale when he was little about a single boy taking on a goliath, but that was a made-up story.
Lydia rose, the action silencing the room. She didn't look at anyone. "I believe we all know what the clear choice is." She swallowed and Wilder saw how her breathing faltered. "Ever since leaving the West Isles, King Titus has wanted to capture me."
She lifted her chin, even as she squeezed her clasped hands tighter.
"If I sail home, he won't turn me away and we will have our way into the city and the palace."
**********************************************************************
"All it takes is Faith and Trust."
(I feel like Peter Pan was saying that to you about me...the author...the author you know...the author you know and love and adore and occasionally receive ice cream from)
Great seas!! The tides have surely turned! Or that's how they appear to me. What do your sailor eyes tell you, First Mate? I must know! (Also if you get my vague reference I love you!) 🏹⚔️🛡
I mean am I wrong or was there a little something something going on between Wilder and Alwyn. *raises hands* Hey, I'm just saying it like I see it. And that fighting was pretty intense, but not a I-hate-you fighting, more of we-match-and-this-is-awesome-fighting.
As for Zavier...woah! Our prince was definitely showing signs...and when I mean signs I mean signssss.
As for our wonderful princess, Lydia smiling, laughing, being brave enough to suggest she go to the palace! Dang, our girl has found her gumption again! So proud!
I think it's time to draw another line in some metaphorical sand.
Date a royal.👑
Date a pirate.⚔️
Date a royal guard.🛡
Which side am I on you ask. I'm going to go with the royal guard turned prince/pirate. That's right, I want me cake and eat it too. That means I'll have two cakes!
Vote, comment, follow because if you don't I might keep going and I know you just want me to shut up at this point and get to the meme already well here you go!
Honestly I don't have friends on instagram to post about me so I'm saved from this. I only have my booktok reels to make me look like an idiot.
Is this self promotion for my Instagram *cough* joymoment *cough*? Please, like I would stoop to such levels, I simply lie down instead, it means I can take a little cat nap when I'm done.