Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

WREN

The next morning Finn was gone.

It shouldn't have hurt quite so much to wake up next to the space where he should have been and know that she wouldn't see him today and that she didn't know when she would see him again. Honour and duty made sure of that. They had made love, worshipped each other throughout the small hours of the night. He'd called out her name and she had whispered his. And now he was gone.

Wren dragged herself out of her bed far later than she should have, and made her way to the training yard where she was to meet her guards.

She was dressed now in a simple tunic and breeches instead of the gowns and dresses which had been forced on her since coming here. ‘You look more comfortable in yourself, my lady,' Olivier Arrenden said.

It was the first time in weeks she had felt comfortable at all. And yet without Finn she felt like a hollow shell of what she had once been.

‘But not like a princess,' she told him.

‘Always that.' The tall, austere knight bowed gracefully. He was handsome but she wondered if he ever smiled. There was something terribly proper about him. A marked contrast to Anselm, who had that kind of open, honest face that had invited her to like him instantly from the first moment they met.

Where was Anselm? she wondered. She'd thought he would be here as well. The other guards were introduced but she barely noticed their names. Rude, she warned herself. She would have to make up for it later. Right now it didn't matter, she would only be training with Olivier for the time being.

‘And within this square, you are Wren,' Olivier told her. ‘Titles and honours will get in our way. We're here to train in combat, not politics, not magic. And while we won't hurt you, no one learns anything if there isn't some effort put into training. Pull no punches, give no quarter. We will train like your life depends on it. Because it does.'

It sounded so solemn, like another vow binding them together. She wasn't sure she liked Olivier Arrenden, but she respected him. He treated her like a person and called her by her name.

Without Finn, at least she had this.

And oh how she ached later on. Every muscle in her body, even ones she didn't know she had, made its displeasure known by the time they finished. Wren was exhausted and longed to sleep but that was not to be.

Every second of her day was mapped out, it seemed. And that helped in a way. She still missed Finn, but time went by quickly.

In the afternoon, she made her way to the Sanctum where Maryn met her at the gates, shutting those guards who had accompanied her outside.

‘You're here to learn focus and control,' the Maiden of the Aurum told her. ‘You grab the power in the land like a greedy child. I'm going to teach you to be a surgeon. You need to control the magic in you, not allow it to control you.'

The afternoon was an interminable round after round of creating a glowing sphere, expanding it and then shrinking it down to nothing again, all the while listening to Maryn's instructions and then mentally trying to adjust them so that they would work for her, while never letting on what she was doing. By the time that was done, her mind was as wretched and exhausted as her body. And while Maryn treated her as a student rather than a friend, it was still better than being a princess.

At least she got to see Elodie, even if only briefly. They sat together in the garden, where Elodie brushed her hair, and trimmed it, and whispered about memories and dreams. When Wren asked her about seeing Roland, what they had spoken of, Elodie smiled and changed the subject.

Wren didn't mention Maryn's suspicion that someone had tried to kill him. Perhaps she had told Elodie herself, or perhaps Roland had but she doubted that.

The time she and Elodie had was precious. They spent it on themselves and no one else. And somehow, after all the training of her body and her mind, even half an hour with Elodie soothed her and healed her.

Elodie didn't mention Finn either. Perhaps she didn't know. But, no. Even now, there was little Elodie didn't know. Word came that Elodie had a visitor and Wren had to leave. She wondered if it was Roland and was surprised to find that she hoped it was. Because suddenly the thought of seeing anyone reunited with the person they loved was important.

She knew from Elodie's reaction to the news that it had to be someone she loved. Even if she would not admit it anymore.

In the evening there was yet another banquet, another court event Wren tried to circumvent and escape. As before, when she couldn't, she lingered as much in the background as she could and left at the first possible opportunity. She didn't have Finn to shield her, to escape with. She didn't have anyone.

Lynette was beside herself. ‘You can't keep doing this,' she said as she found Wren back in her rooms just after dark.

‘They don't even need me there,' Wren protested. ‘All they do is stare anyway.'

‘That's because they don't know you. Befriend some of them. It isn't hard.'

Easy for Lynette to say. Wren had never done anything like that. She'd grown up with only Elodie for company, and the children of the village had hardly been what you might call friends.

She had never felt so lost as the days slid by, each one the same.

Lynette had picked out a ballgown which was more ornate and ostentatious than anything so far. Wren stared at it in abject horror as they dragged it over her body and she stepped out from behind the screen to see herself in the large mirror which had been hauled in along with all the other paraphernalia which was part and parcel of this nightmare. The gown was scarlet trimmed with gold, layer upon layer of silk and lace which hardly seemed to cover her properly at all. It hugged her waist and slid off her shoulders, and there was far too much of it around her feet.

‘I can't wear this,' she said.

‘This ball will be the most formal event of the season, Wren,' Lynette told her, threading her fingers through Wren's dark hair as if she might make it longer through sheer will alone. ‘Of any season. You can't turn up in something plain. Or in those breeches you love so much.'

Wren wished she could. With a sword too. That would be a look. Aware of how Lynette would react if she suggested it, Wren wisely stayed silent.

Lynette continued fussing over her hair. ‘Guests are arriving in from the outer provinces already, and delegations from the neighbouring kingdoms will be at it too. You need to make a good impression. Dazzle them. You must be the princess you were born to be, everything they expect. And you will be. Look.' Lynette turned her towards the mirror. ‘You're beautiful.'

‘I look ridiculous,' Wren countered, scowling at her reflection. She didn't look like herself. She looked like something out of a story book or one of those interminable ballads the minstrels loved to sing.

‘Saying things like that about yourself is ridiculous. But Wren, my dear, you are not. You're a princess of Asteroth. The heir to the throne. No one in their right mind is going to call you ridiculous. They'll be too busy picking their jaws up off the floor.'

‘Do I have to go?'

Lynette's temper snapped. ‘Please stop acting like a child. You're a grown woman. This is no laughing matter. Everything depends on how you deport yourself at this ball. Everything. Carlotta? Where is the girl? I swear, she's always off somewhere or the other.'

Wren watched her lady-in-waiting smooth the lines of her furrowed brow. Lynette didn't talk to her like that. Ever.

Carefully, Wren gentled her voice.

‘Lynette, why is this ball so important? There have been other balls. What's so special about this one?'

For a moment Lynette said nothing. Perhaps she didn't intend to answer at all, but then she relented. ‘The ball is to welcome those coming to witness the trial. It's traditional.'

Elodie's trial. It was happening then. Wren felt a wave of nausea wash through her and all the fight in her fled.

‘We're celebrating the trial? With a ball ?'

‘Not celebrating the trial. The ball is a mark of respect for those who have travelled here. Even the Ilanthian ambassador is expected?—'

‘The Ilanthians are coming too?' Wren couldn't believe that. The very idea was abhorrent, but Lynette shrugged her shoulders in a brief and elegant gesture.

So that was why they were really here, Wren thought. Not to reopen the embassy, but to witness Elodie's trial. To see her suffer.

Wren clenched her fists in the fine fabric of her dress, twisting it around her fingers.

‘They are our neighbours, after all. And this is an overture of peace. If there's any chance…' Lynette sighed, and tried to detach the material from her death grip before she damaged it. ‘We have to try, Wren.'

Try? How was that possible?

But, if the Ilanthians were coming, did that mean Finn would be with them? She would get to see him, if only for an evening. That would be a small comfort.

Carlotta appeared moments later with a length of gold braid which Lynette proceeded to arrange in Wren's hair.

‘Not a crown,' Wren said rapidly. ‘Please, Lynette.' She couldn't keep the fear out of her voice. She couldn't wear a crown, or anything that looked like one, to a ball celebrating Elodie's upcoming trial. The whole concept sickened her.

Lynette paused in her labours and gazed at her steadily for a long moment, as if she could see into Wren's mind. ‘It isn't a crown, my dear. I promise. Just a headdress, a frivolity to match the gown.' But all the same she withdrew it and handed it back to the maid. ‘But you will have to get used to the idea eventually. One way or the other.'

‘Not… not yet.'

Never. That was what she wanted to say. But she couldn't.

Lynette would start asking questions as to why she would even think such a thing…

If Wren was crowned before the Aurum the flames would turn black and she might let the Nox in to kill them all, that was what she was afraid of. Or whatever the stupid prophecy meant. Elodie would stand alone against her enemies and fall. How could she admit that to anyone? Who would believe her? At best, they would think her mad. Or foolishly superstitious. But if they did find out what she was, what she could do, the darkness lurking inside her, then Elodie wouldn't be the only one facing the flames.

And oh how the Ilanthians would love that. Their crown prince most of all. She could just picture Leander's triumphant smirk, and it sent a lance of ice down her spine.

‘I can't, Lynette. I just can't.' It came out too loud, too sharp, and Wren tore herself free. A terrible silence sank around them and she was sure she heard laughter. The shadows moved and Wren closed her eyes tightly, willing them to go away as hard as she possibly could.

A soft voice broke the silence. ‘Perhaps some flowers, your highness? If my lady will forgive me. Above the princess's ear? It's all the style in the lower city at the moment. Less formal and it would be much more becoming.'

They both turned to look at Carlotta who instantly bobbed a curtsy. Wren could have kissed her and when Carlotta straightened she gave Wren a shy but complicit smile.

‘I suppose that would do,' Lynette said thoughtfully. ‘Yes, very well. Good thinking, Carlotta. Fetch some flowers. We'll use them instead.'

Carlotta bobbed into a curtsy again and left, taking the gold thread with her.

Wren gave a long sigh of relief and Lynette took her hands, leading her over to one of the chairs in the corner. ‘You're shaking like a leaf. What happened? Are you feeling quite well? Perhaps you're doing too much, all this nonsense about swords and magic.'

She was exhausted. But none of that mattered. Not anymore. Not the stupid rules and regulations of her life, the cogs and wheels of the court of Asteroth which ground on around her…Neither did learning to fight, or use magic. It wouldn't do her any good. Nor would having Finn here. None of it mattered.

She couldn't explain it to Lynette. It was no use.

In a few days' time, Elodie's trial would begin and, one way or the other, Wren's fate would be fixed.

A knock on the door distracted them. Anselm stood outside, Olivier behind him. Both of them looked cagey and uncertain.

‘What's wrong now?' Wren asked, before anyone else said anything.

‘I need to talk to you,' said Anselm. ‘I would have come sooner, but I had to be sure. It's about Finn.'