Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

WREN

Finn woke Wren far earlier than he normally rose, his tone curt.

‘We don’t have a lot of time. Make yourself presentable.’

Confused, she pushed the fall of her dark hair out of her face and found the room full of servants. Not the usual ones either. Not the lithe, seductive and desperate souls he normally surrounded himself with since they had come to Sidonia. These people were older, with downcast eyes and impassive faces, wearing ornate livery or simple robes of pale colours. There were more women than men and they all busied themselves with various tasks. Several filled a large bath with steaming, fragrant water, while others laid out a selection of gowns the like of which Wren had not seen since coming here.

They reminded her of Lynette, if you took all her fire and independence from her. At the thought of anyone from Pelias, that same pang of loss and regret stabbed into her and Wren winced, trying to push the memories away.

She had taken it all for granted, hated it. And now…she only wanted to be back there. She wouldn’t even argue with Lynette over the array of clothing the lady-in-waiting laid out before her. The outfits and the hairstyles could be as elaborate and ridiculous as her heart desired. Anything, aside from a crown. The thought of that and all it implied still chilled Wren to the bone. Now more than ever.

‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

Finn paused in the doorway and cast a glance over his shoulder. ‘The king wants to see us. Formally and in front of the whole court. Don’t make trouble, Wren. It will not go well for you if you try anything.’

Try anything? What was she going to try? She was helpless here, his captive and by extension a captive of the royal court of Sidonia. All that had been made perfectly clear.

Wren felt listless and lost.

She had tried to reason with him, tried to work out what had happened and why he was behaving this way. The court was one reason, of course, and the excuse that he was protecting her had worn very thin. He wouldn’t take the bracelet off her wrist and let her protect herself. Nor would he hear any thoughts of letting her go, or the two of them escaping together.

Part of her wished she could just curl up in the night and never wake again. If the Nox came to her now, she’d welcome it with open arms and a willing mind. Perhaps that was his intention.

True to his word, he hadn’t forced himself on her. Oh, he teased and tormented, and indulged his own needs with various bedchamber companions whenever he wanted. And she hated him for that.

None of this was an act of love. He wasn’t really trying to protect her. The emptiness in his eyes as he watched her told her that. He wanted her to want him, to beg for his touch.

And that just made her even more resolved. He had betrayed her. Whether it was in the act of protecting her, or in order to blend into this terrible place, it didn’t matter. From the moment they had arrived, he had changed and she would not change with him or accept the man he was now.

The royal servants washed her and dressed her. They fussed over her hair as if it was a treasure, threading it with silver and jewels. It tumbled down her back, glimmering like the night’s sky. No one was allowed to cut it and she was certainly not permitted near anything she might use as a blade. The king himself had forbidden that, she had been told.

The gown was in the Ilanthian style. It clung to the curves of her body, accentuating her form. It was black as well, and shot with sparkling threads. A silver sash cut a line from her shoulder to her hip, fixed in place with a brooch like a crescent moon.

She slipped her feet into the tiny slippers made of silk, and stood there, hardly recognising herself in the mirror. They had transformed her from a half-wild captive into something else.

A princess.

Or a goddess.

The thought sent a chill down her spine.

It had taken hours to prepare. The servants bowed, as one, and stepped back, gazing at her as if in adoration, and Wren frowned. She didn’t like that one bit. And yet inside her something dark and hungry uncurled in pleasure.

‘Good,’ Finn said. He too had bathed and changed. He was dressed to match her, black breeches which moulded against his legs and hips where they rode low. He wore only a silver sash across his bare chest which gleamed with a perfumed oil. The muscles seemed even more defined than usual and Wren’s gaze followed the dusting of dark hair which trailed down his chest, to his abdominal muscles until it vanished beneath his waistband. Slowly, carefully, she drew in a breath.

When she looked up again he had that insufferable, knowing grin on his face that she had never seen before they came here. Like he could read her mind. And her stray thoughts amused him greatly.

‘What is happening?’ she asked in as cold a voice as she could.

‘My father wants to see us, to see what progress we have made. So unless you want to be handed over to him, you’ll cooperate. Adore me, Wren. Show him that I’ve tamed you. Otherwise…’ He shrugged, as if he didn’t much care what happened to her.

It made the dark anger she was nurturing in her depths surge up and she drew in a breath as, for once, the bracelet didn’t suck it all away in an instant. Anger, she realised. Anger she could use. She just had to hold onto it, control it.

‘That isn’t actually an answer,’ she told him.

‘It’s a party,’ he went on. ‘For us, I imagine.’

‘Why for us?’

‘Oh,’ and that cruel smile which didn’t seem to fit on his face was back again, ‘perhaps we’ll announce our engagement. Wouldn’t that be nice?’

No, she did not like the sound of that one bit, not that her opinion mattered. But when he offered her his arm, she took it. What else could she do? She was not going to be dragged out in front of the whole court kicking and screaming.

It was a ball. She heard the chatter of the assembled court long before they arrived and her first instinct was to pull back. She had no intention of letting him parade her around in there in front of the entire court, like a trophy or a pet. But Finn just clamped his arm on hers and carried on, until she had no choice.

They burst into a wall of sound and motion. Music was playing far too loudly as the two of them descended the curved staircase. It drowned out the conversation and the next thing she knew all eyes were on her. It was so much worse than the ball in Pelias. Here she felt helplessly exposed and alone. No one here was on her side.

‘I…I don’t want to,’ she whispered, praying once again that he would listen to reason, and somehow be the man she loved once more.

‘Don’t make a scene,’ he told her curtly. ‘Smile.’

As if she knew how. Her stomach twisted.

‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Because I have to. Because I can. Now do as you’re told.’ She started to walk again, but he couldn’t make her smile. Nothing in the world could do that now.

A young voice cut through the noise around them. ‘Prince Finnian? Oh thank the sacred night, it’s you. I’ve been trying to see you since we got back.’

A boy pushed his way towards them through the crowd, as finely dressed as any of the rest, wearing a tunic rather than being bare-chested like the Ilanthian men around them. His sash was a dark green and he looked exhausted. But his face was lit up with hero worship. She remembered him, she thought, from the Ilanthian embassy, Hestia’s son.

‘Laurence?’ Finn said in a cool voice. ‘This is not the time.’

‘I know, but please, I need you to intercede. Gaius has tried. He’s still trying. They have my mother captive.’

‘Who do?’

‘The Asterothians. She was left behind with Prince Leander and…please, my lord prince, the king can negotiate for her release along with that of his son’s. She always spoke so highly of you, and you have connections at the court in Pelias. And with the princess here…’

He trailed off, staring at the two of them, so hopeful.

‘Your mother,’ Finn said softly and the words turned into a laugh. Laurence blanched and pulled back a step. Wren watched that hope die and wondered how many times that had happened to him already. He couldn’t be more than fifteen. ‘Your mother meddles far too much in things that don’t concern her. It was only a matter of time before she landed herself in trouble. Asteroth will never make peace with Ilanthus. Now, if you please, this is no place for children.’

Finn swept by the devastated boy, dragging Wren behind her.

The Finn she had loved beyond reason was gone. Wren understood that now. This man, this Ilanthian prince, was someone else entirely. Cruel without need, heedless of anyone else. He couldn’t even be kind to a boy seeking his aid.

With that realisation she felt something inside her crack open, leaving only a hollow emptiness, dark and frantic. The anger was there, but so was something far worse. She didn’t know its name, but it felt like despair.