Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

WREN

The truth. What was the truth? Where did she even begin?

Wren didn't know the start of it and Roland might have a better idea of it than her. Her hands shook and her hair seemed to stir of its own volition, longer than it had been, far longer than it should be. Self-consciously, she tried to smooth it down and tame it. There had been so much magic in the Sacrum, both light and dark, and Leander of Sidon had spilled his blood to summon the Nox and…

‘I can't,' she whispered. ‘Please. I don't know everything.'

‘You know enough. Start there.'

But where? He was asking the impossible.

‘I-I can't.'

‘Is Elodie your mother?'

‘She raised me.'

His temper finally snapped. He had been trying to keep it in check for so long, she realised, for her sake, for Elodie's, but even he couldn't manage the impossible. ‘That's not the same thing!' he roared.

To Wren's surprise another pair of arms pulled her into a gentle embrace. Lynette held her close, protecting her.

‘Enough,' said Ylena, in as quiet and crisp a tone as Wren had ever heard Elodie use. It was not to be argued with. Wren turned, hiding in the lady-in-waiting's arms, sobs breaking out before she could stop them. The lady regent glanced at her and then scowled at Roland de Silvius. ‘You forget yourself, Grandmaster. You are overwrought, to speak to a girl like this.'

‘She's no girl.'

Just three words and Wren's world began to crumble and fall apart. What was she then? What did he think she was? It was her worst fear, not to be human, not to be who she had always thought she was. But the events in the Seven Sisters had shown her part of it, a new truth, and she was terrified of it.

Ylena, however, didn't back down. She was not cowed by Roland and never would be. Her voice filled with scorn. ‘Of course she is only a girl. Look at her. Whatever else she might be, she's a child.'

Roland ignored the old woman. ‘Lynette, let her go.'

‘No.' Lynette stroked Wren's hair, her body shaking with anger. ‘How dare you do this, Roland? She has no lived experience, certainly no court experience, and yet you drag her back here and thrust her into this world and expect…what? What do you think she owes you? I would tell Yvain to thrash you to within an inch of your life if you spoke to a daughter of mine this way. Elodie would never forgive you.'

That seemed to steal the ability to speak from him. He cleared his throat and Wren dared to glance at him again. He looked like someone had punched him in the stomach.

Wren never imagined anyone would speak to Roland de Silvius that way. Perhaps not even Elodie. Lynette stood like a statue, glaring at him, completely unafraid, as if she was Wren's only anchor right now.

Carlotta was still pressed against the wall, staring at them in horror, clearly praying she could stay out of sight if she wished hard enough. Wren felt the same way, but that was not an option for her.

Ylena sank back into the chair as if it was a throne. ‘Now take a moment and collect yourself, Grandmaster. Then we can talk like civilised people. Agreed?'

Roland raked his hand through his hair and tried to calm his breath. ‘I need to know the truth. Are you my daughter?'

Wren wanted to shake her head. ‘I don't know,' she whispered. More of a whimper if truth be told. ‘She never said. Never called herself my mother, except recently, and never…never spoke of you to me. She woke up from nightmares calling for you though. That's how I knew your name. But she would never explain.'

His face froze, and then fell, horrified. ‘Nightmares? I was in her nightmares?'

Was he? Maybe. But then Wren had always thought Elodie was looking for him rather than trying to escape him.

‘No, I didn't mean…'

A hammering of mailed fists at the door spared her having to say anything else and cause any more pain.

Roland turned away, his voice hard with command once more. ‘Come!'

Olivier opened the door, his face ashen. ‘Sir, there's a…a problem.'

‘What kind of problem?'

‘The queen, Grandmaster. The queen is gone. She's been taken.'

At first it was chaos. Wren followed in Roland's wake and no one seemed to be willing to tell her not to, or to send her away. Right beside him seemed like the safest place to be right now and it seemed that the host of knights around them both agreed.

Elodie had been taken from the Sacrum itself. That should not have been possible. Sister Maryn had been assaulted and no one seemed to have an answer as to what was going on. The knights Roland had assigned to guard the door between the Sacrum and Sanctum had been murdered.

‘Sassone and his men,' said Maryn, as she tried to wipe blood from her face. She winced whenever she touched it. Though the other maidens were trying to tend her, she waved them away impatiently. ‘But what he's planning I do not know.' She glared at Roland. ‘He said the regents' council had ordered it.'

‘We did no such thing,' Ylena snapped. She was pacing back and forth in front of the Aurum. Wren watched her silhouetted by the low flames, afraid of drawing the attention of Elodie's formidable aunt. She need not have worried. The regent had no time for her right now. The kindness, however hard and unyielding it had been, was gone. Wren stood forgotten at the back of the crowd with Olivier. ‘Get Leyden and the others. Someone will answer for this and if any of those snivelling fools had a part in this…Where has he taken her?'

‘To her execution,' said Maryn. ‘It sounded like he plans to torture a confession from her first. With Elodie out of the way?—'

Ylena's sharp eyes fell unerringly on Wren, who shrank back again. She fought to keep calm. She was already too close to the power of the Aurum. It made her skin prickle and tug, as if torn between throwing herself at it and getting as far away as possible. Her hair tickled her upper back now, already growing far too fast in the presence of magic. She only prayed with everything else going on no one else noticed.

‘We will find her,' said Roland, ignoring the implication. His tone was almost gentle, as if he sought to reassure Wren. But his gaze strayed back to the bodies of his knights, covered now with their cloaks and laid out, ready to be taken away, and something seemed to snag in his throat. He bent down and scooped up a scrap of metal from the floor. Wren recognised it at once – Elodie's locket. Roland closed his hand around it, making a fist. ‘We have to. What is he thinking? And why now?' He raised his voice all of a sudden, turning sharply on those accompanying him. ‘Anselm? Explain this to me. What is your father planning?'