Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

WREN

‘That’s enough, princess,’ a voice called out behind her, in a kind of sing-song that was almost mockery. ‘Come back quietly now. We don’t want trouble.’

Wren froze in the middle of the sumptuous corridor, her heart threatening to tear itself out of the cage of her ribs. Her bare feet sank into the deep pile of the carpeting as if she might somehow root herself there.

Already. How had they found her already?

Three of them this time. They were all smiling, the bastards, like this was some kind of joke. And to them it was, she realised. They’d been charged with watching her. Maybe the door hadn’t been left unmanned accidentally.

They did so like their games. That was an Ilanthian trait. Games of cat and mouse, games of life and death. Stupid, cruel and senseless games.

She bolted back up the corridor, away from them, heading past the door she had slipped out of and down the stairs at the far end, their entrance hidden behind a silken wall-hanging. She had been this way before, several times, on other thwarted escape attempts. She had no idea how many times. Or how long this game had been going on.

The guards passed by the door, cursing as they ran, and headed on towards the grand gallery. They had missed her. Wren let herself breathe again.

Perhaps they hadn’t expected her to go this way. Maybe they had forgotten it existed.

The nobility of Ilanthus didn’t take the servants’ stairs, and only the nobleborn could guard the royal family and their belongings, a position of honour. They certainly didn’t use the stairs to reach the servants’ quarters below ground. They preferred to pretend such places didn’t exist, that food and wine, and their many luxuries, appeared as if by magic when they needed them, that there weren’t a thousand slaves toiling away beneath them.

They might not use the word slaves, but that was a moot point. Everyone served here, one way or the other, willingly or not. There were ways to ensure that and the royal court was very free about using them.

Finally, Wren stopped, listening hard, at the foot of the grey staircase. No one seemed to be following. She crept forward, intent on every noise around her, her eyes frantically looking for the next opportunity.

She had never made it this far before and knew she had to be careful. It wasn’t like she had a map, not even of the little of the palace of Sidonia that she had managed to explore. She had to keep going but slowly now. Above stairs there were courtiers and guards everywhere, always someone watching. She didn’t want to think about what would happen to whoever had left the door open.

Even if she made it outside, she wouldn’t know which way to go. But it didn’t matter. She had to try. That was all she had left.

Get out. Get the bracelet off. Find a way out of Ilanthus.

She had to get away.

The days flowed into each other and sometimes she was given things to eat and drink which twisted her world in on itself. She had no idea how long she had been here. Weeks perhaps. Weeks since Finn had brought her here and promptly betrayed her. Sidonia was a maze. And the palace was a maze within that maze. The royal court spent its time in revels and debauchery, laughing at her when she didn’t join in, calling her names and mocking her. When they bothered to pay attention to her at all. She bored them. They had expected so much and she had not delivered. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She just had to get out of this place.

The Sisterhood of the Nox looked on, watching her the way someone might watch a mouse trying to wriggle out of a trap. In the absence of Hestia Rayden, they were led by a woman called Lady Oriole, who never took her cool judgemental eyes off Wren whenever she was paraded out in front of them. She didn’t know what they were expecting to see or what they wanted her to do. They didn’t claim her, or help her. They didn’t do anything but watch. Same with the king.

It felt like they were waiting for something and she did not know what. And Finn…Finn was no help either.

There were racks of clothes in one of the rooms, whether in storage or awaiting repairs, she didn’t know. Everything was Ilanthian in style, naturally, but nowhere near as grand as the garments the nobles of the court above wore. They were more substantial, for one thing. At the other end from the hallway, she could hear the clatter and roar of the kitchens. But beyond that…fresh air beckoned her. Her nostrils flared with the possibility.

Knotting her hair up at the back of her head, she grabbed a headscarf to tie around it and a shawl which she flung over her shoulders. She couldn’t do anything about her own filmy clothes but try to cover them. Cover herself because the light alone knew the gown they had picked out for her did little of that. It plunged down her front and back, with little more than a twist of satin to keep it up at the nape of her neck. There were no shoes or boots so she just carried on, barefoot and desperate. She didn’t have any choice.

She almost made it. Her hand pushed open the narrow door to a herb garden and for a moment she felt sunshine and fresh air on her face. For just a moment.

Strong arms seized her, hauling her up and off her feet.

‘Got you!’

Wren didn’t waste time screaming. There was no point and no one was coming to help her. Not now, not ever. She kicked back with all the strength she could muster, felt her foot connect with something soft and, with a gasp of pain, the guard holding her let her go.

But the other one was waiting. He grabbed her arms without pause, twisting them up behind her back in a fluid and brutal motion. She pitched forward, helpless, unable to break free.

‘Little bitch,’ the first one snarled, raising his fists.

‘Stand down!’ said his companion in patient tones. ‘You don’t want to mark her. You know what he’ll do. We haven’t seen Captain Elendris since he hit her.’

Of course they hadn’t, Wren thought grimly. Elendris was dead, a smear on the courtyard far below the tower room where she was kept. And he had deserved it too. She could still feel the hand which had struck her face, the imprint of it on her cheek, the way her face had exploded in pain and white-hot blindness. And recalled everything else he’d sworn he’d do to her because no one would stop him.

That had just been the first time she had escaped.

It wasn’t the last time and neither would this be. The trouble was, she wasn’t able to get far. Not with the bracelet still on her arm, not with the eyes and ears of the whole court against her. But she had to keep trying.

She had tried to call on the light again, but in this place that didn’t seem to be possible. The Aurum was not responding, not as it had back in Pelias when she had healed Leander and made her stupid deal with Finn. Coming here had broken that connection. And the Nox…she couldn’t reach it even if she had wanted to.

And part of her very much wanted to.

There had to be a way to get the magic-dampening bracelet off her arm. Once she did…once she did, she would make them all pay. And they knew that.

‘Here, pass the stinger,’ the guard holding her said and Wren’s struggles became frantic.

‘No, please,’ she gasped but they weren’t listening to her. That got people killed as well. She’d tried befriending one of them, a younger man called Trin, in the hopes he would help her somehow. He had never even got the chance.

Trin was dead as well, strangled on orders of King Alessander, while she watched. They’d held her in place, right in front of him while he tried to babble out excuses and apologies. While he had begged for his life. They’d wound a silken cord around his neck like one of those collars they made the servants wear and then, slowly, tightened it, an inch at a time. His face had turned the most horrible shade of purple and he had wept. Or tried to. By the end he’d been unconscious so at least there was that small mercy, but he’d known all along what was happening. Guilt still ate through her at the thought of it and she woke from nightmares where he came to her and told her it was all her fault.

He wasn’t wrong.

It was getting harder and harder to tell her nightmares from reality in this place. But still she tried. She couldn’t give up. Elodie wouldn’t have given up. Neither would Roland. Nor Finn…

Wren swallowed hard and pushed the thought away as hard as she could. She had to.

‘You bring this on yourself, you know,’ said her captor, almost kindly. And then a sharp point of pain jabbed into her neck. The numbness that followed flowed through her like encroaching ice. Her body went limp, helpless, and she slumped forward. When the guard let her go she fell. ‘You put more in that than usual,’ he said to his companion.

‘Serves her right. She got me right in the balls.’

Serves him right , Wren thought bitterly, as everything went black.