Lydia

Around Lydia, the palace buzzed. Servants scurried past, transforming the ballroom into a festive haven lined with candles, vibrant potted trees, and vases of flowers. The servants' bright voices infused the air with a happy anticipation.

It had been four weeks since the palace was reclaimed and Lydia hadn't stepped foot into the ballroom in that time.

She stood absolutely still across from the ballroom doors, forcing herself to breathe slowly. With each inhale, she willed her emotions to calm but her heart spiked in her chest.

Even with the panic she struggled to fight off, she knew the servants around her didn't see it. They didn't even see the barefoot girl who'd ran around the palace. Instead of a shirt and trousers, Lydia wore fitted pants overlaid with one of her mother's dresses tailored to her and split in the middle of the skirt. Queenly but still herself.

But what she wore couldn't help Lydia remember that she wasn't the terrified princess who'd fled from this same ballroom.

She couldn't do it.

She couldn't walk into that room and see where...

Breathe. Keep breathing.

Lydia knotted her finger together, trying to remain in control. The rapid beating of her heart made it impossible.

Breathe. Keep breathing.

When Zavier appeared before her, she blinked but found her throat too tight to push words through.

"A servant mentioned you'd been standing here," Zavier said, his polished Lorian accent gradually softened.

He cupped her cheek and Lydia let out a low breath. Encircling her tangled fingers, he brought them to his lips and kissed them. His touch grounded her. Lydia held his caring brown eyes and felt her heartbeat calm.

"I'm right here," he said. "We can do this together."

"Together," she whispered.

Gently, he untwisted her hands and laced his fingers with hers. She clung to the familiarity of it as he guided her forward. They passed through the doorway and into the bustle of the ballroom. Servants barely noticed their presence, focusing on bringing the room to life with decorations that combined West Isles symbols with Lorian ones. Strands of golden fabric wrapped around potted plants. Banners with the sun hanging between columns.

Zavier led Lydia to the center of the room, finding the eye of the storm of servants. Lydia stared at the dais where five thrones once stood.

Where it had happened.

The blood.

The screams.

The metallic smell.

She tried to portray control, tried to keep her head held high. But the memories overwhelmed her, battered against her, threatened to break her.

The light dying in her family's eyes.

The red that spread across their bodies.

Their screams that ripped into Lydia's heart.

She turned into Zavier, curling up and burying her face in his chest. He held her close and whispered to her to keep breathing, that he was there, and he wasn't going to leave her. His words kept the memories from drowning her.

Eventually, she slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. As she relaxed, Zavier let out a low breath.

"Tell me," he said, gently.

Lydia swallowed hard, diving past the horrors in her mind to the soft places where her family still lived.

"My father had a love of sweets," Lydia said quietly. "Once during a long meeting with his advisers, my mother discovered that he'd sneaked small cakes in with him and ate one when no one was watching."

Zavier chuckled and Lydia felt herself smile.

"Corwin had a crush on a girl when he was twelve and wanted to announce to the Kingdom that he planned to marry her by reading out a poem he'd written. I think Reen stole the poem and kept it. Much to Corwin's embarrassment."

Zavier rubbed his thumb along Lydia's back and she relaxed even more into the comfort of his arms and the warmth of her good memories.

"Vienna wanted to cut off all her hair because it took ages to brush out and style for fancy dinners. My mother was able to convince her to trim it instead. But there was a moment when I really thought Vienna would do it."

Lydia paused, her heart aching as she thought of her mother.

"There was no one like my mother. You never doubted she was born to be a Queen. She was strong, beautiful, and kind."

"Sounds like someone I know," Zavier said, kissing her hair.

Lydia warmed at his words but knew she wasn't her mother.

"You might not feel like it," Zavier said, understanding where her mind took her. "But it's true."

Lydia lifted her head, gazing up at him. In his eyes, she saw that he truly believed it. To him, she wasn't a girl who only needed to be protected, but a Queen who was strong, beautiful, and kind.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. It felt natural.

Even though in the sight of both Kingdoms they were married, they'd chosen to take their time. Both felt like it wouldn't be truly real until after the days of celebration and final ceremony.

But day by day as Zavier helped Lydia face endless challenges, she'd found her heart opening to him more until it felt he'd always lived there.

When Lydia pulled away, she noticed the smiles that dotted the surrounding servants' faces. It hadn't only been Lydia's love that Zavier had earned.

"How are you feeling now?" Zavier asked, caressing her cheek.

"I can do this."

"I know you can."

The doors to the ballroom opened and in strode Kristoff and Queen Gigi. True to his word, Kristoff had taken the position as Lydia's Regent. Though it alleviated a lot of the burden, it didn't mean Lydia wasn't involved. Together they'd talked over decisions, Kristoff explaining procedures and laws that Lydia had never known. He was a source of support she couldn't imagine being without.

He'd walked her through King Titus's trial and final ruling. Kristoff and Lydia had agreed that King Titus would live but had exiled him to the furthest reaches. Captain Isla had seen that it was done.

As for King Titus' soldiers, Lydia offered all who wanted it a place in her army. With the mercy Lydia had shown them by caring for their wounds, many accepted. Those who didn't say yes were taken to Loria to work as servants.

Queen Gigi had arrived and effortlessly helped set the palace back to rights. She understood how to order servants and oversee things that others would have forgotten. And she did it all with a brightness that seemed to fill each room with light.

Together these people had helped Lydia as she tried to reverse the damages that King Titus had inflicted.

Gigi saw Lydia and Zavier standing close together and beamed. She hadn't hidden her delight in seeing her son with such a wonderful girl. In turn, Lydia hadn't shied away from her praise and acts of affection.

"Lydia, dear," Gigi said. "I thought you might want some help preparing for tonight. Will you accept mine?"

"Yes," Lydia said.

She looked back at Zavier and he kissed her once more.

"I'll see you tonight," he said. "And together we will get through this."

As Lydia walked out of the ballroom with the Queen, Gigi wrapped her arms around Lydia's shoulders.

"Are you ready for what's to come?" Gigi asked.

Lydia knew she spoke of the coming celebrations and marriage ceremony, but Lydia saw the future laying out before her and saw Zavier beside her.

"I am."

*****

Wilder

Wilder shifted to the next fighting stance, his muscles aching with the movement while his healing injuries screamed in protest. Around him, new trainees went through the same motions, their untrained limbs as awkward as his.

"Commander," a servant said, hurrying up.

Hollis looked away from the group of soldiers. The servant darted a look at Wilder and Wilder took it as an excuse to stop.

"Commander," the servant said again. "I was to inform Captain Wilder when the Sea Siren was spotted making for port."

The trainees all exchanged smiles and knowing nods as Wilder cut through their ranks. Hollis motioned to Wilder that he was free to leave.

Wilder stowed away his practice sword and turned to find his father standing there. The previous weeks had helped heal the damage time in the dungeons had done to Commander Ror. Besides stepping down as Commander to train Hollis in his place, the biggest difference in his father was how he looked at Wilder. Like he couldn't be more proud of his son.

"You did well today," his father said. Wilder felt like he'd barely made it through. His father clasped his shoulder. "You did. Do not down play the small victories." Wilder nodded and his father smiled, tipping his head to the palace. "Now go greet that pirate of yours."

Wilder felt his face burn with the implications but didn't have words to disagree. He made his way out of the training grounds, his body throbbing but the pain easier to ignore with the thought of where he was headed.

Even though Wilder walked with a limp past the soldiers, they all greeted him with respect. Lydia had made sure everyone knew what role he'd played in saving the Kingdom.

At the stables, a stallion waited for him with a stool next to him. The stool was a concession to his still healing state that nagged at Wilder but he gratefully accepted the help. Despite wanting to nudge the horse into a quick pace, he knew his body would suffer for it. Instead, he made his sedate way through the palace gates and into the city.

Like the palace, the city was transformed. Banners with full moons representing Loria hung intertwined with banners bearing the woven band of the West Isles. The sadness that had permeated the air during the royal family's Burning and grieving period had been replaced with the excitement of the coming celebrations.

At the docks, Wilder watched as the Sea Siren glided into its designated berth. Though Cyrus stood at the helm, calling out orders, Wilder saw that Alwyn was in the rigging. She held onto the rope and leaned out. The setting sun haloed her figure and turned her wild blonde hair golden. When she spotted Wilder, a smile lit up her face. Wilder smiled in return. She was fiery and beautiful.

After being unconscious for three days, the first thing Wilder woke up to was a potted plant sitting on the table by his bedside. The second thing was Alwyn.

Over the weeks, it had been her mocking taunts and teasing smile that had pushed him to fight to regain his strength.

The ship stopped and Alwyn scrambled down the rigging and with a shout over her shoulder to Cyrus, she leapt over the side.

"I didn't think you would come back," Wilder said.

"And I worried you'd find some way to die while I was away," she said.

She stared up at him, her blue eyes playful. "Now, are you going to help me up onto your horse or do I need to find a small boy to assist me?"

Even though he knew he'd pay for the exertion, Wilder stretched out his hand. Alwyn grasped it and he hoisted her onto the horse behind him. His side spiked with pain but when Alwyn slid her arms around his waist, he didn't mind.

"How does your new captain put up with how aggravating you are?" Wilder asked.

"He orders me to swab the deck and as first mate I pass the order along to someone else. It works perfectly."

Wilder shook his head, but said nothing. Something about being first mate had settled Alwyn.

They left the docks and moved into the bright atmosphere of the city.

"Did running away help you decide?" Wilder asked.

"I did not run away."

Wilder could almost laugh at that. She would deny it. He angled his face back to her. "Lydia asked you and Cyrus to make your ship an ambassadorial one for the West Isles and the next morning you sail away. What else would you call that?"

"We needed a deck beneath our feet and the sea around us to think," Alwyn said. She tightened her hold on him. "I was not running away."

The strength in her hold seemed to be a silent promise, she wouldn't be leaving him. Not yet at least.

"Then you made your decision?" Wilder asked.

Wilder tried to keep his emotions in check, not wanting Alwyn to sense any of them. This decision had been for her and Cyrus to make.

"With half our crew coming from the West Isles it seems impossible to say no."

"She still will accept that as an answer."

Alwyn sighed. "I know and that's what makes it so hard to think of saying no."

Wilder gripped the reins, hating how disappointed he felt. Each day for the past four weeks she'd woven herself into his life in a way he'd never imagined.

"You will say no then?" he asked, needing to hear it.

"Oh, no, we've decided to accept. We're rotten at acquiring special items like our parents."

Wilder smiled and let out a low breathe, hoping Alwyn couldn't feel how he relaxed with the news.

"Good," he said.

"Good? Eager to have us sail away again?"

"No. As a matter of fact, while you were away, Lydia offered me a position as one of her ambassadors." Alwyn stilled. "It seems with my mind for strategy and ability to defend myself I would make an excellent one. And while I recover, I will have time to learn the politics that go with it."

"An ambassador," Alwyn murmured, her breath brushing against Wilder's neck. "I believe you'll need a ship to sail you places."

"I will."

Without glancing behind him, Wilder could picture the smile Alwyn wore. It matched his own.

As they passed through the palace gates, the guards nodded to them, their eyes lighting up at the sight of Alwyn. The sparring matches she'd taken part in over the past weeks had won her over with all the soldiers. Wilder included.

In the stables, Alwyn dismounted and Wilder swung his leg over and dropped to the floor. The impact on his healing leg made it buckle and he clutched the saddle as Alwyn darted to him and grabbed his arms. Wilder held her waist to regain his balance. Suddenly they were very close, only a breath of space between them.

"If you wanted me in your arms you didn't have to work so hard," Alwyn said, quietly.

Wilder found himself swimming in her ocean blue eyes and struggling to put his thoughts into words. They stood there, hovering before a line they'd never crossed but a line they had spent the last four weeks gradually making their way closer to.

A stablehand appeared and they broke apart quickly. As the stablehand directed the horse away, a servant appeared and dipped his head.

"Alwyn," he said. "Her Majesty wanted to ask if you'd join her in final preparations for tonight. She said to tell you that Queen Gigi and your mother are with her as well."

Alwyn looked to Wilder and his heart rose at the unspoken things he saw in her eyes.

"I'll see you at the ball," she said.

"I'm not a very good dancer," he said.

"Neither am I."

As Wilder walked along the corridors to his rooms, he heard the bright bubble of conversations. How strange that those sounds would fill this palace again when he still heard the ring of metal and death cries. His father told him that the ones he'd killed would never leave him, it was the price that was paid. But with each smiling face he passed, each burst of laughter he heard, he was reminded of what that price had bought.

Washed, shaved, and dressed, Wilder left his suite of rooms. Rooms Lydia had given to him so no matter where he went he'd always have a home to come back to.

As Wilder drew closer to the ballroom he heard the rise and fall of conversations from within. But the resonance of deep laughter drew Wilder to a hallway that butted up against the ballroom. Standing in a loose circle were Zavier and his brothers, all dressed for the night.

"I am still trying to puzzle out," the one brother Wilder had only recently met, Killian, said. "How is it that the youngest brother has managed to win the heart of a Queen?"

"It can not be his looks," Quinn said. "He is the ugliest of us all."

Zavier shoved his brother's shoulder.

Nolan motioned to Zavier. "And it is not his manners, clearly."

"His personality then?" Dimitrius asked, ponderously.

"He is too reckless for anyone to love," Killian said.

"Keep making jests and I'll use my influence with the Queen to have you all exiled," Zavier said with a grin.

The brothers all laughed but broke off quickly when from further down the hall appeared a quartet of women ranging from the palest of Talvin to the darkest of Seau. From the way all the brothers straightened, Wilder understood these women to be their wives. As one, the brothers surged forward and claimed the arm of their lady. Killian slapped Zavier on the arm.

"You will not be able to get rid of us easily," he said. "Our wives have decided to spend time in this paradise of yours."

Zavier shook his head in exasperation though his smile belied his annoyance. The easy way the brothers had with each other and the presence of their wives gave Wilder a strange sense of peace. Lydia had lost her family, but that didn't mean she would be without siblings.

As the group passed Wilder, the men all gave him nods of respect. Wilder accepted the acknowledgment, even though all the praise he constantly received felt misplaced. He was only one of many soldiers who'd helped reclaim the Kingdom.

"How did training go?" Zavier asked.

"I feel like I am eight again," Wilder said. "I don't respond as I used to."

"I heard the healer say you were recovering faster than he imagined. That isn't a small thing."

"True. But it doesn't feel fast enough."

Zavier clasped Wilder on the shoulder. "The Kingdom is safe. You made it so."

"I was only one of many soldiers to do so."

"Yes, but it was your strategy that made it possible. Give yourself time."

Wilder nodded his acceptance. Zavier was right. For now the Kingdom was safe.

"I heard Alwyn returned," he said. "Have you seen her?"

"I met her at the port."

Zavier fidgeted, shifting the gold chain that linked to the cape draped across one shoulder. "Did she tell you of her decision?"

"She and Cyrus have decided to accept the position."

"And you?"

"I have as well."

Zavier visibly relaxed. "Good. The more people Lydia has around her that she trusts will make her role easier."

This time Wilder gripped Zavier's shoulder. "She has you by her side, that already has made her role as Queen easier."

The two men looked at each other, understanding passing between them.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Wilder dropped his hand. Alwyn floated towards them, transformed from the fiery pirate into a stunning young woman with hair flowing over her shoulders and dressed in silk that hugged her lithe body.

Wilder forgot what it meant to breathe. Even though Zavier stood right beside him and looked striking in his suit, Alwyn only had eyes for Wilder.

But when she stopped before them, she focused on Zavier. She adjusted his cape and smiled sweetly.

"If you ruin this," she said. "I will be forced to stab you."

Zavier grinned. "I would expect nothing less from you."

"Good." She looked to Wilder. "Shall we?"

At the side door to the ballroom, Wilder glanced back. Lydia now stood before Zavier. He cupped her face, saying something. She smiled softly. He would