Wilder

Wilder rushed out of the cabin but paused when he didn't see Lydia racing up to the deck. Down the corridor, he caught a flash of dark hair and chased it.

Queen. The title rattled around Wilder's head. Lydia was queen. The regal image clashed violently with the image of Lydia in trousers and shirt, running through the palace with him. It contrasted the girl he knew who planned to travel the world, not be tethered to a throne.

Through an open doorway, he spotted her. The dim storeroom smelled of wood, salt, lamp oil, and coffee. A pleasant aroma. But as Wilder's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could tell the scent didn't have a calming effect on Lydia. She stood in a corner of the room, hands pressed against the wall like she was trying to keep them from shrinking in on her.

"I can't," she said, her voice strained. "I can't be queen. I'm not meant to be queen."

Wilder approached her slowly as if scared to frighten her.

"Ly," he said.

She spun on him, her eyes wide with panic. "No! I can't do it. We could find Uncle Kristoff, he could be king because I'm not supposed to be queen. Corwin is supposed to rule. He was born for it. No one is more perfect for the position. It can't be me. It needs to be him. He needs to be alive!"

Wilder reached out a hand to her, understanding her fear. "Ly, it's going to be okay."

"No! It's not how could it be okay! I'm alone! They left me! They are all-"

As Lydia shook her head, she pressed her palms into their eyes. She swore. "I never should have stolen the almond cakes. He looked so disappointed in me. He always told me to live up to my title." She sucked in a breath. "And I never did. I never listened and now..."

At the despair in her voice, Wilder felt his heart ache. Not only did death weigh on her but a kingdom now sat on her shoulders. Wilder took hold of Lydia's arms, squeezing them until she slowly lifted her head.

"Ly," he said, gently.

"Wilder, we never should have snuck into the kitchens, maybe if we hadn't then it would be different." Tears welled in her eyes. "I need it to be different. I can't do this..."

Wilder brushed his hand over her face and she sucked in a breath.

"Listen," he said. "You can not dwell on this right now, do you understand? The Commander always says you can not think of the outcome of the war when there is a battle before you." He cupped her face. "Right now, we need to get you out of the West Isles. Once that is complete then we will think of what comes next, okay?"

A tear spilled out and Wilder swiped it away. "I wasn't born to rule, he was."

"I know. But this battle, this moment."

The fight drained out of her and she sagged against him. Wilder held her, wishing he could make her pain go away. Wishing he could carry it for her. When she let out a slow breath, Wilder did as well unaware of how tense he felt. He pulled back from her.

"Come on, we need to see if the prince convinced Alwyn to transport us to Loria. If not..." Wilder swallowed, the burden of what to do next dropping onto him. "We'll find a way."

As he led Lydia back to the captain's cabin he worked through another plan. If they acquired a pair of horses they could possibly make it out of the city and through Whistler's Forest. There was a port towards the east. They could possibly barter for a passage on one of those ships. Depending on if the news hadn't already reached them. If it had their options were...

Before Wilder could let himself get dragged into a current of unknowns, he saw that the cabin laying empty, diverting his thoughts. Murmuring voices emanated from the deck. Keeping Lydia behind him, he climbed the stairs into the fading light. Along with Alwyn, Cyrus and Zavier were six men. One stood near Zavier and bore the bearing of a guard. An older man talked with Cyrus and Alwyn, giving the impression he was more than a sailor, which the remaining four men appeared to be.

"Do we have passage?" Wilder asked Zavier.

Though Alwyn pressed her lips together in irritation, Zavier nodded.

"We do," he said. "After supplies are bought, we will depart."

At least that solved one problem, a hundred other remained ahead of them, but Wilder didn't focus on that. For now, all they needed to do was successfully make it out of the West Isles, from there he could devise a plan on how to proceed.

As Lydia claimed the spot beside Wilder to survey their company, one of the sailors - from the West Isles by the look of him - started at the sight of her. He dropped to one knee and bent his head.

"Your Highness," he said.

The title startled the remaining sailors while Wilder grabbed the man by the arm and yanked him back to his feet. He scanned the port, looking for signs that they were being watched. A pair of sailors lugged cargo aboard a ship, a single carriage passed by, a porter argued with a captain, but no one looked their way.

"Do you wish for her to be killed," Wilder snapped.

Though he knew the man only meant respect, the fear of someone as easily seeing through Lydia's rough disguise shot fear through him. He could trust no one and that went for the men on this ship, even the captains.

Lydia put a hand on Wilder's arm, quietly telling him to let go of the sailor.

"You're Simon, right?" Lydia asked, her eyes kind.

The sailor straightened and dipped his head.

"I am, Your Highness," he said. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

Lydia seemed to almost smile but it was as if her lips couldn't quite remember how.

"My father and I would ride past your family's vineyard," she said. "On our return journey we stopped at your well, your family offered us wine and water for our horses."

Wilder noted a glint of awe and wonder enter Simon's expression. Lydia had that effect.

"Yes," he said.

Though Wilder couldn't fully understand why, something about the conversation seemed to soothe Lydia. The frantic, panicked girl from moments ago was hidden beneath a calm exterior.

Lydia directed her attention to the remaining members of the crew. "I don't believe I have the pleasure of knowing you."

Despite how much she'd always fought learning it, Wilder could see Lydia's royal upbringing sliding into place. Even dirty and dressed as a boy, she was a princess. The older man stepped forward, clearly Lorian with his angular features. "I'm Sparrow, your highness. I'm the first mate."

Lydia bowed her head to him. The other three men introduced themselves: Fynn, Bates, and Mick. With each one, Lydia held their gaze, acknowledging them and in return having them smile back at her. Wilder noticed how Alwyn watched the exchanges, rigid and glaring. He didn't know how Zavier had convinced her to take them, but one thing was clear, she loathed doing it.

"I look forward sailing with you," Lydia said.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the men. Wilder took a step forward, putting himself in front of the men. He rested on hand on the hilt of his sword, meeting each of the sailor's eyes. Where Lydia offered them kindness, Wilder offered them scrutiny.

"The royal family is dead," Wilder said. "Princess Lydia remains the sole heir to the throne." As he spoke, he eyed the men searching for hints of distrust. "Her life is worth a lot to the ones who have murdered her family."

The men shifted, Wilder's gaze piercing them.

"As her guard, that means her life is worth a lot to me. Far more than yours. I ask you now to give your oath to the princess. Swear she will not see harm at your hands. If you can not make that promise..." He tightened his hand on his sword hilt, a sword already washed in blood. "I will cut you down where you stand."

Though most of the men stood at Wilder's height and outweighed him, he held himself as he was, a solider. His stance dared them to refuse him.

"I swear," Simon quickly said.

"I swear," Sparrow said.

Fynn, Bates, and Mick added their oaths. When Wilder looked to Cyrus, he nodded. "I swear."

Alwyn crossed her arms, chin at a defiant angle. Wilder didn't understand this girl, why offer to help them and still fight them?

Her brother hit her shoulder, making her scowl.

"This is my ship," Alwyn said.

"Our ship," Cyrus cut in.

"Our ship, I will see you to Loria but I'm not swearing to your Princess, I owe fealty to no one."

Cyrus let out a heavy breath. "There is no need to kill her. Princess Lydia won't be harmed by Alwyn."

Somehow Wilder doubted this. Though the harm might not be Alwyn betraying Lydia, there was an anger in her that said she despised Lydia. Again Wilder didn't understand why. Shoving the confusion to the side, Wilder turned to Zavier and his guard.

"Our lives are linked with Princess Lydia's," Zavier said. "She is safe with Joric and me."

That would do.

Lydia gazed around the crew. "Thank you. I know sailing with me and out of the West Isles puts you at risk. You have my gratitude for your courage."

At her words, Wilder saw each sailor stand a bit taller, as if ready to take on whatever dangers they may face.

"Is there someplace I could sleep?" Lydia asked.

Cyrus exchanged a glance with Alwyn and Wilder got the distinct impression they were silently arguing some point. Alwyn pursed her lips in irritation and Cyrus shook his head slightly.

"Yes, Your Highness," Cyrus said. "You may have my bed. Follow me."

With one last nod to the sailors, Lydia trailed Cyrus, Wilder close behind. They returned to the cabin's quarters. The line of windows behind the desk showcased a setting sun that glowed over a deceptively peaceful city. Cyrus motioned to a bed on the right side of the cabin. Wilder had no doubt that the opposite bed was Alwyn's.

"Thank you," Lydia said.

Cyrus dipped his chin and left. Lydia tugged off her boots and released her hair from its tail. It barely brushed her shoulders and she absentmindedly pulled at the ends. With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Wilder," she whispered. He stepped closer, breathing in the road dust and sea that clung to her skin. "I wanted to say..." She lifted her eyes to his and he felt that inexpressible thing he always did when he looked at her. It was as if he forgot to breathe for a moment but didn't care because she saw him.

"Thank you," she said. "You are...everything. Thank you for everything...I don't...if you weren't here..."

"Of course, Ly."

The edge of her mouth curled for a heartbeat before slipping away. It wasn't much but it gave Wilder hope.

"Get some sleep," Wilder said.

As he lifted the edge of the blanket, Lydia slid underneath. Wilder turned to leave, but Lydia snagged his hand.

"Will you stay?" she asked. "Until I fall asleep."

The fear of nightmares curved a line between her brows. Wilder nodded but before he could retrieve the chair from behind the desk, Lydia shifted over, giving him room to sit on the bed. Angling his sword away from him, Wilder perched on the mattress. Lydia peered up at him, her anxiety easing. A stray lock of hair fell across her cheek. Wilder gently brushed it away and Lydia closed her eyes at his touch.

As she drifted off, Wilder bent his head. Her trust in him felt overwhelming. The reality that he alone was charged with protecting the heir to the throne felt natural and daunting. For most of his life, he knew he'd live to protect her, but it had always been along with other soldiers, with his father to guide him. Now...

Wilder dragged a hand through his hair. Now it lay solely on him. He contemplated his hands, imagined he could see the three lives taken by them. Death always lived in his future, he was a soldier after all but he'd never thought about how each face would stay with him. How their blood stained his blade, even after he'd wiped it clean. How he would see the life bleed out of them. How he would feel a piece of him cut away with their death.

But it was for her, to protect her.

Lydia murmured in her sleep and Wilder didn't think he was imagining the sound of his name on her lips. When she rolled closer to him, he rose. He needed to protect her and needed to protect himself from thoughts that would make a mess of everything.

As he closed the cabin door, he let out a breath. He remained beside it trying not to think of the burden on him or his father, how he wished he could ask him for wisdom. Ask him how he knew who to trust and who not to. Ask him if he were alive.

A breath, a single breath was all it took for everything to change.

Wilder stood by an archway, observing the royal family as they gathered together on the dais. Only Lydia was missing. He'd watched her the whole night as she moved from one suitor's arms to the next, each one smiling at her like they knew anything about her.

As he searched for her, glass shattered.

When Wilder whipped his head to the dais, he saw a red line cut along the king's throat. The disguised assassin fell a second after the king, struck down by Ror's sword. But already the damage was done. A single scream.

Pandemonium.

Nobles fled.

Soldiers surged forward.

Assassins appeared from every direction.

One by one the royal family fell.

Wilder raced into the fray, seeking his father. He found him as he battled three men. Before Wilder could even draw his sword, two of them crumpled. Fighting off the last man, Ror spotted Wilder.

"Find the princess!" he shouted. "Protect Lydia."

Wilder turned to run, but Ror stuck his sword into the assassin's chest and grabbed Wilder, his face splattered with blood.

"They got into the palace," Ror said. "You can't trust anyone. I'll cover you, find and protect Lydia."

The words were barely out before more men charged Ror. The order ringing in his ear, Wilder sprinted away, heart pounding, a need to protect Lydia burning in him.

Someone coming down the stairs stirred Wilder from his memory. He blinked, forcing away the image of his father surrounded by attackers. Zavier stopped when he saw Wilder posed outside the cabin.

"How is the Princess?" he asked.

"Asleep."

Zavier nodded but said nothing else. Wilder took a step towards him, hearing his father's final command.

"Your Highness," he said.

To his surprise, Zavier winced at the title.

"Zavier is fine," he said.

The familiarity felt unnatural but Wilder dismissed it.

"I need to know that Lydia will be safe with Alwyn on this ship," Wilder said.

"I would trust Alwyn with my life."

Wilder stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I know you can, despite her anger she clearly feels for you. But I'm not asking about your life, I'm asking about Lydia's."

Zavier pondered the statement, focusing on the stairs to the deck. Overhead they could hear the rhythm of voices and tread of boots.

"Yes, I believe you can," he said. "Her anger is, rightfully, against me."

Wilder detected a heaviness in Zavier's words that spoke of a long history, but he didn't ask for it.

"When we reach your palace-"

"My family's palace," Zavier's corrected.

"What is the royal family willing to offer Princess Lydia?"

Zavier dropped his eyes. "Protection, of course. Beyond that, regarding her throne and kingdom..." He flexed his jaw. "That will have to be discussed. We planned to make an alliance between our kingdoms, I believe something along that line can still be...arranged."

Something lay beyond Zavier's words but Wilder couldn't decipher what. For his title, Zavier seemed to be a tangle of contradictions, a prince but not wanting to be addressed as such. Born to a royal family but not glorying in his family's position. Despite Zavier offering protection, Wilder knew he'd have to keep an eye on him.

"Then we will wait until then to formulate a plan of action," Wilder said.

"That seems the best course."

When neither of them found anything more to say, Zavier left. Wilder stared after him, knowing there was more going on than he knew. The question was, would whatever it was put Lydia in danger?

**********************************************************************

"Let me guess, you have a great personality"

(Haha one of the best lines for Emperor's New Groove)

Royal decree that you must agree...to! Sharing your thoughts on the mystery of it all. Let's face it, can anyone trust anyone else in this book? It seems a toss up, what do you think? 🏹⚔️🛡

I'm not going to lie, I know I shouldn't be playing favorites but Wilder is steadily becoming my favorite character of this book. I mean the dude is simply awesome! I want a guard who will comfort me and threaten people for me!

Question for you: What is one fictional character that you wouldn't have trouble falling in love with if you met in real life?

Reader question from The_Star_Gazer29: What was ur inspiration for the Loria series??

Réponse de l'auteur (French): Funny enough this whole series was kind of a snow ball situation. I got the idea for A Vagabond's Tale (the first book in the series) from Jane Austen's Emma. Briefly gy**** are mentioned and the set me off.

Then a secondary character from that book was so loved by my sister JoymomentsSISTER that she wanted me to write a spin off. So I did and that's how we got A Pirate's Tale (the second book).

Then I realized I wanted to write a rebellion story but hate coming up with new worlds and names for places so decided to set it in the Loria world. From there I realized that I could create a new main lead, Lydia, but also have side characters connected to people from the previous two books.

So that's how it all came about, it's funny how things get more wild than you except. But I'm happy that it got me here cause I love writing this story! It's an interesting challenge.

Vote, comment, follow because I'm royal and it is my command!