Page 40 of Fated to the Wicked King

“This is it,” I breathed.

A heightened sense of instinctive knowing tugged at my entire being.

I knew what this was. I felt intimately connected with it.

The king scooped me up in his arms.

I jumped in surprise. “What are you doing?”

He shot me a glare. “If you think I’m risking going through that abomination separately, you are mad.”

Thirteen

FRESH TIDES

Propelled out of the maelstrom, I caught myself before I slid out of the king’s arms, and the phenomenon dissipated behind us with a fizzle, its brilliant light blinking out.

He braced his hands on his knees, coughing.

I made a face. “What happened?” I was reaching out to pat his back when I looked up, and my jaw dropped. “Oh, my…”

We were surrounded by a lush green rainforest. Ancient ferns and towering banyan-like trees tangled together in a dense canopy, their gnarled roots twisting through a damp, uneven floor. Slick moss and rotting leaves carpeted the soft, sinking earth. The air hung heavy with the rich, cloying scent of wet soil, decaying wood, and resinous sap.

Way in the distance, the ominous haze above the flowing river was a fluid-like opaque ribbon churning beneath the sky, an impassable barrier between that side of the land and this.

I looked around again, bewildered, astounded. “We really have crossed the river, haven’t we?”

My desert was always dry. Tulgey Woods was a lively, well-regulated ecosystem. This forest seemed more marshland than anything else.

I glanced back down at the king, who was still bent down, catching his breath, and wrinkled my nose. “Are you not well?”

He didn’t answer right away. He clutched at his chest. “My insides feel as though they’ve been squeezed.”

I blinked. “Odd. I don’t feel anything.” Looking down, I patted myself over to check. “Are you injured?”

His hands were still braced on his knees, his head down.

I frowned. “Maybe you need to lie down, see a doctor. I am sure you recall I am not that sort of doctor. We must hurry to Lucerne and get you some help.”

His tone was resolute. “I’m not entering another kingdom when my powers are drained like this. It won’t be safe.” He took a deep breath, his gaze off toward the horizon. “Besides, I’ll be fine once the overnight tides replenish my magic. It should be soon.”

I looked up at the quiet night and forest. “How do you know?” I didn’t carry a timepiece. I had no idea what time it was. Based on the position of the moon, I could only guess an approximation.

His eyes slid to me for a moment. “You don’t feel it coming?”

“Feel what…?” I looked around slowly.

It must have been the exact stroke of midnight.

A hush fell over the forest—and then the magic came, rolling through the trees in a slow, luminous tide.

Mystical silver-blue fog swept between trunks and over roots in a shimmering surge, pooling in hollows and spilling across moss and stone, bending branches in its wake. It swept over us, swirling around my ankles and climbing up my body—cool, silken, weightless.

I’d always heard about this phenomenon, but had never actually seen it before. This was the source of all magic on Wünder. I couldn’t help the smile of absolute wonder and awe on my face as the entire world sparkled.

It was glorious.

The moment the tide reached the king, the air around him softened and glowed, rising in a glimmering swell from the ground. It curled around his form in quiet, graceful ribbons, lifting the edges of his coat and stirring his hair. Eyes closing, his silhouette was lit from within by the pale, living light that pulsed beneath his skin. He stood at the center of it all as the magic moved through him—untouched, unshaken.