Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

WREN

Wren hated Pelias.

She had never thought she could hate anywhere quite so much.

Oh, Pelias was beautiful and refined, and her every need was catered for. She lived in a palace of white marble, perched above the perfect city, overlooking the sea. It had blue tiled roofs and golden domes. The sun always shone on fair Pelias.

But it was also shallow and petty and cruel in so casual a way. And she was trapped here.

She caught sight of Finn at the far end of the banqueting chamber and something in her chest stuttered as she tried not to call out to him or make her way directly to him. Too many people were watching. His stormy-blue gaze snagged on hers and he shook his head, barely perceptibly, before turning away.

And something in Wren died a little bit more.

She wished a thousand times every day that she was back in the forest of Cellandre, living half wild and half witch, with only Elodie as a companion.

Or Finn.

When she had been discovered and brought back here, she had thought that maybe she would be fine. She had Finn and he would never leave her. And Elodie would be here as well. And maybe, just maybe, she could get to know the man behind the austere and formidable front her father presented to the world.

But the austerity seemed to be no front. It went all the way through the Grandmaster of the Knights of the Aurum, Roland de Silvius, right to his stony core. And Elodie wasn't with her. She was locked up in the Sanctum of the Maidens of the Aurum, awaiting a trial which was seen as a foregone conclusion. No one was allowed to visit her.

And now Finn was like a ghost on the edges of her life. He had to be, he said. It was for the best. But it didn't feel that way.

She let him go on ahead before pushing her way towards the doors to the gardens, heedless of those petitioning her, or trying to ingratiate themselves with her. Or even just trying to get into a perfect position to stare. Wren knew the rumours were flying about her. And about Finn as well.

But most of all about Elodie.

The royal palace of Pelias perched high above the harbour city, built into the mountain. It was a rabbit warren of a place, full of corridors and galleries, chambers hewn from living rock and balconies hanging out over the ocean. The sound of seabirds and breaking waves was its song and the wind carried the scent of the sea. Wren couldn't have found it more alien if she had been dropped into another country altogether.

That was without the court and its mysterious rhythms and rules. Everywhere she went she found people following her, people who became silent and awkward when she tried to talk to them, or got a gleam in their eyes like she could give them something.

Wren was a disaster. She was always wrong, always. In the wrong place, wearing the wrong thing, saying the wrong words. It was exhausting. She missed the forest so much it hurt, the deep green-gold light, the sway of the canopy overhead, the birdsong so much sweeter than the wailing of the gulls.

The palace itself was divided in two, one side housing what remained of the royal court and now the regents' council, and on the other the Maidens of the Aurum in their Sanctum. The Aurum's chamber, buried in the rock face, was the bridge between them, accessible from both sides, but she hadn't dared set foot in there since that terrible night.

‘We have to be careful,' Finn told her solemnly that night. ‘If it ever happens again…'

So now he was avoiding her. Avoiding being seen with her.

She knew he still loved her. And what she felt for him was brighter than any magical fire. They only had stolen moments and those were already getting few and far between.

Great terraced gardens filled with flowers and trees overlooked the city, climbing the mountainside in tiers. From here Wren could see all the way down to the city walls on one side and the harbour on the other, and far, far beyond, across the plain and towards the hills, almost as far as the great forests, but not quite. And here she could be alone. Or as alone as she ever could be with attendants and servants and all those people who wanted something from her.

At least the air here was fresh, unlike the hot and stuffy halls, and the audience chambers they would lock her away in for hours on end, the air ripe with perfume and sweat. Here, leaves rustled, and cut the sunlight with green, and if she closed her eyes she could almost imagine she was back in the forest with Finn. Safe with him. Curled up together under Cellandre's canopy.

Where no one could touch them. Watch them. Judge them.

She thought he would be here to meet her, but there was no sign of him. Had she got it wrong? Had he meant they should meet somewhere else?

Three women sat at the far end of this particular garden, shaded by an array of parasols in red and gold, and attended by a host of silent servants who never made eye contact. Wren didn't know the woman clothed in the robes of the Maidens of the Aurum, but Lynette of Goalais sat beside her. And the other was Lady Ylena, Wren's great-aunt.

Wren froze as the old woman locked eyes with her and beckoned her forward. Behind her one of the attending servants murmured something between a prayer and a blessing and Wren had to fight not to turn tail and run.

But of course, she couldn't. Running was against the rules. There was no escaping this.

Finn must have seen them and beat a hasty retreat. Or else they had sent him away. Probably with no more than a glare.

Wren cursed softly.

One of the dour-faced attendants pulled out a chair for Wren, opposite the regent. Beside her, the Maiden of the Aurum sat demurely, hooded and gazing at her hands. A smile flickered over Lynette's lips, encouragement and comfort, or an attempt to convey both.

Don't cause trouble, Wren , she seemed to say with her gaze. This is important.

It was always important.

‘Wren, what a delightful coincidence,' said Ylena. She didn't sound like she was in any way delighted. And Wren didn't imagine for a moment that this was a coincidence. The woman had a plan for everything. She had been waiting for her. The old woman carried herself like an empress. Or a bird of prey. Wren couldn't quite decide which was worse.

‘The gardens here are beautiful,' Wren replied, noncommittally. ‘I was taking the air.'

‘You are used to fresh air and freedom,' said the maiden. Her voice was almost familiar, soft and lyrical with the accent of Pelias. For a moment Wren's heart gave a different kind of jerk. It wasn't Elodie, though they sounded similar. The woman looked up, her gaze searching, but she said nothing more. It felt like being studied by some kind of professor. ‘And select companionship.'

She saw far too much with her pale blue eyes and sculpted features. She was perhaps forty, and the resemblance between her and Elodie could not be denied. Perhaps it was the bearing. Perhaps it was what Pelias did, creating women like statues with hearts made of stone.

The regent, Ylena, was no better, just older and harder. ‘A princess has no need of such things, neither solitude nor select company. There is a whole court here and you need to become its beating heart, young lady. You have many duties here, Wren, and I have selected Lynette to help you, guide you.'

Lynette bowed her head graciously, accepting the role before Wren had a chance to interject. Not that it was exactly a surprise. Lynette had been angling for this since Knightsford and she was an expert in the political games of court.

‘Your life has changed irrevocably,' Ylena continued, ‘and Queen Aeryn clearly did nothing to prepare you for it.'

‘This was not meant to be my life,' Wren said and Ylena stiffened.

The maiden in her white robes made a noise that might have been a stifled laugh and might have been a cough. Wren stared at her, but she didn't look up again. Ylena glowered at Wren, unmoved.

‘On the contrary,' Ylena told her. ‘It always was and now it is. Accept that and we can move on. You have ancient magic in your veins, in your soul, the very light of the Aurum. You channelled it and it accepted you. Or so I am told. I have yet to see any evidence myself…But the queen says you are her daughter.'

‘Then why can't I see her?' No one answered. ‘I need to talk to her.'

‘She has other…duties to prepare for. You are needed here. I will teach you how to navigate the court. Given time you will learn how to rule.' Ylena was unbending as iron.

‘Elodie is the queen,' Wren argued again, undaunted.

‘And she decided to abandon her kingdom, and must answer to that choice. You are her heir.' Ylena leaned forward, skewering Wren with her glare. ‘This is not a discussion, child. The facts of the matter are as they are. She claimed you, publicly, and you channelled the Aurum. You woke it from slumber, if only for a moment. One day you will rule this kingdom. No one is going to risk losing another queen, so you will have to quell the headstrong ways she has taught you. You will do as Lynette, your new chief lady-in-waiting, says in all things. You will dress as she tells you to dress, learn our court and make alliances among the younger courtiers. You have the chance to rebuild what your mother squandered. You can start by taking some care of your appearance.'

That was a low blow.

‘My appearance?' Wren asked, not even bothering to disguise her shock.

As if sensing the hurt, Ylena seemed to relent a little. ‘You could start with your hair, child. You are no longer a wild thing. Appearances matter here.'

Wren flinched and before she could stop herself she brought a hand up to her hair. Its dark length was loose, soft and ragged as shadows, and moved in the breeze. Or at least she hoped there was a breeze. Because her hair had a tendency to move with her magic, and with her anger. When it got too long, things quickly got out of control. And she was already angry.

But that was not the danger here. She had betrayed her insecurity and now Ylena had a knowing smile on her face. It had been some sort of test. And Wren had failed.

Ylena couldn't know her secret but she was clearly an expert at finding a weak point and exploiting it. She wouldn't be the political powerhouse she was in this city if that wasn't the case. Wren tried to imagine what Elodie would say right now and failed.

‘Appearances,' she murmured angrily and let her hands fall to her lap. Everything here, it seemed, was about appearances. All around her the air stirred fitfully, shadows lengthening. Wren stiffened as she felt the magic rising from the ground beneath them, unfurling in the darker corners of the garden. The air around them turned suddenly cold as if something had blotted out the sun or the wind had changed to the north. Even Ylena noticed that.

‘Maryn?'

Shadows subsided as quickly as they had stirred. Not shadow kin, nothing so terrible as that. But Wren knew that the darker shades of magic followed her. They had done all her life. And that was how it always started.

Sister Maryn slowly released a breath. ‘Shadows are moving,' she murmured, and this time her eyes were distant, fixed on the far side of the garden. ‘But the wards hold firm. There is no need to fear.' When Wren frowned in confusion, the maiden smiled so briefly, a movement at the edge of her lips. ‘The whole city has wards sunken into the fabric of the stones with which it was built. Ancient protections. The maidens restore them annually with the blessings of the Aurum. Shadow kin cannot form here, although they still try. They never learn. There is nothing to fear.'

Ylena gave a dismissive snort that was decidedly unprincesslike and glanced at Lynette. ‘Back to the matter in hand then. Lady Lynette?'

Lynette's golden hair was perfect, of course. Pearls threaded through it, along with little silken flowers that matched her gown exactly. ‘Of course, Lady Ylena. I have a number of plans. The princess is a beautiful young woman. There are any number of dressmakers and?—'

She didn't get any further. Ylena cut her off.

‘Do your best, Lynette. The families of the council are meeting this afternoon. See that she is presentable. They have children your age, Wren. Make some friends. Lynette will tell you who is worth knowing.'

Children indeed. Wren was a woman, not a child. And she didn't need friends. She had Finn and that was enough for her. But clearly Ylena was not given to actually listening to anyone but herself. Too many years doing whatever she wanted. Wren was a potential new weapon in her arsenal.

Ylena rose to her feet and the others followed suit. Wren did not. She knew that was a snub and she frankly did not care. As they were so fond of pointing out, she was a princess now. Princesses could be rude. Clearly.

Wren had learned from Elodie. And perhaps she knew now where Elodie had learned herself. She wished Elodie would talk to her, help her stand up to this woman.

Or Finn. But right now she didn't dare go looking for him. She could feel too many eyes on her.

She needed something, a choice that was hers alone…