Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

WREN

The bed felt strange and the air too still. There was no breeze coming in through the window and no sound of birdsong. She scrunched up her face against the light. Why was she in bed in daylight? Her body ached everywhere and she felt… strange. Different.

‘Wren?' said a voice she didn't know. ‘It is Wren, isn't it?'

She opened her eyes to see a man she didn't recognise standing at the far side of the room. Not Finn. His blond hair caught the light behind him like a halo. He was wearing some kind of uniform but his face had a gentleness that made her initial panic subside.

‘Who are you? Where am I?'

‘I'm Anselm Tarryn. I'm a friend of Finn's. He's just… he had to see the healer or he would have been here. And then he had to report. I offered to stay with you. We didn't really expect you to wake up… Please, don't be scared.'

Wren pushed herself up on her elbows even though every muscle in her body protested. ‘Was Finn hurt?'

‘No. He says you saved him.'

Had she? Or doomed him? What had she done? Even she didn't know. It had been like a fever dream of light and darkness.

She let herself slump back down again. Anselm had answered only one of her first questions, she realised. ‘And where are we?'

Anselm smiled what was clearly meant to be a reassuring smile. ‘Knightsford. At the garrison. We arrived to the encampment just in time. They would have killed him. I saw what you did.'

She closed her eyes. He'd seen. Which meant they'd all seen. Seen her embrace the darkness and reach out to whatever place the Nox still lurked. Connect with it, begin to draw it back from exile… At least that was what she thought had happened. But why wasn't she locked in a cage if that was the case? Why wasn't she in the same horrible chains that had bound Finn?

‘What I did?' she echoed hollowly.

‘You sent up the beacon to call us. You threw yourself between Finn and the blade. You set the world ablaze with the light of the Aurum. The Paladins felt it. The knights too. I've never experienced anything like it. Even the Grandmaster?—'

The Grandmaster. Roland de Silvius. Her breath caught in her throat and she stared at Anselm, who gazed back unerringly, his green eyes very sharp. Oh, he missed nothing, did he? He knew. They all knew.

Just not exactly what she had feared.

She forced herself to breathe. They hadn't seen the darkness in her. Not yet. They had only seen the light when she had drawn the darkness away, into her. Because if you took away darkness light got in. That was one of Elodie's first lessons, when she was small.

But the very first was to never reach for the darkness in the first place.

Oh, she had made such a mess of this. She had done everything wrong. And they were going to find out eventually.

‘He would like to talk to you,' Anselm said at last. ‘I'm to escort you there, when you're ready. If you want to.'

‘Finn?' she asked, distractedly.

A smile tugged at his lips. ‘No. Grandmaster de Silvius.'

Oh. Of course.

What else could she do? It didn't sound like turning it down was actually an option, no matter what Anselm said. What could she say? She was too weak? She didn't want to? She just wanted to leave and run back to the safety of the forest? She still needed to go to the Seven Sisters and find Elodie.

If she didn't go to see the Grandmaster, eventually, he'd just come here instead. And that would be so much worse somehow, that she'd dragged him away from whatever he was meant to be doing because she, like a child, refused to move from her bed.

‘I need…' She looked around and had to push the length of her hair back from her face. It was everywhere, spilling around her, half out of the braid someone had attempted to make of it some time ago. Her clothes… were probably back in the Ilanthian encampment. The robe Leander had given her was nowhere to be seen and she was wearing a simple white shift.

Someone had undressed her. She folded her arms around her chest as the thought of it made her whole body go cold. What else had happened?

Anselm seemed to recognise her distress. ‘The healers looked after you. They are honour-bound to care for the sick and those in need, and to do no harm. Finn stood guard all the time. He refused to budge, the stubborn fool.'

Finn had been there. At least there was that. He had stayed with her. Even though he too had to know what she'd done. They'd been entwined together in that maelstrom of light and darkness. He had to know. He'd begged her to stop.

‘Where is he? Is he in trouble?'

‘Finn?' Anselm laughed. ‘No. The Aurum bless you, no, of course not. But he refused to let them heal him until you were sleeping peacefully and even then… You can wait for him if you prefer. But the Grandmaster's time is precious.'

Would she prefer to have Finn with her when she faced the man who might be her father? Yes, of course she would. But she couldn't put it off forever either. And she suspected this was a conversation she wanted to have alone with Roland, even if she dreaded the thought. And her parentage, whatever it might be, was the least of her concerns.

‘I'll… I'll need something to wear.' She wished her voice didn't shake quite so much.

‘It shall be done, my lady,' Anselm said, with a bow, and left the room for a moment to issue some orders to someone outside.

My lady. This was not good. Not good at all.

Her eyes fell on the book lying on the bedside table. No sign of the locket. It wasn't around her neck nor anywhere in sight. She prayed she hadn't lost it. Apart from the diary, it was the only thing she really had of Elodie. Maybe Finn had it? Maybe he was looking after it for her? But she only had Anselm's word that he was safe and well, that he wasn't dead, or still in chains, or…

She grabbed the book and opened it. Elodie's writing spilled over the pages, Elodie's hopes and dreams, all the things she'd wanted to do, an Elodie who wasn't much older than she was now.

‘Where are you?' she whispered.

The writing slid away again as the enchanted book revealed new words, the words of Elodie now. It had to be Elodie.

Come to the Seven Sisters. Now. You are not safe there.

Easier said than done. ‘How do I get out of here? I don't even know where I am.'

But the words remained there, stubborn and insistent, just like Elodie. As Wren watched, three more words formed from the swirling ink.

Don't trust them.

Anselm coughed discreetly as he entered the room again and Wren snapped the book closed. ‘Someone will be along with clothes and will help you shortly. If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask. I'm here to help.'

Don't trust them.

‘I'd like to see Finn.'

He smiled again. ‘As soon as the healers are happy to release him, I'm sure he will be here. We could barely tear him away from you to begin with. Are you hungry? Thirsty?' Wren shook her head, watching him carefully. She saw his eyes flick down to the book in her hand and back up to her face. Had he read it? Had it worked for him the way it did for her?

‘My other belongings…' she said and then paused. Most of her things were lost in the forest somewhere when she'd first fled Leander.

‘The Grandmaster will explain everything, I'm sure, my lady. And we will provide whatever you need.'

So that was that. No more answers were forthcoming until she saw Roland de Silvius. ‘I'm not a lady,' she whispered, more to herself than him. ‘I'm just Wren.'

For a moment she saw pity in his eyes, she was sure of it. If not pity then at least understanding of a kind. ‘I'm afraid many things are about to change, Wren,' he said. ‘You know that, don't you? Being who you are?'

Who she was? At least it was a who and not a what…

She shook her head, and then sighed when her hair fell over her face again, a veil of black silk that seemed to whisper around her. How she longed for a knife to hack it away and leave her free again. Maybe she should ask him for that?

But no. She doubted they'd give her a knife right now. And she doubted that any lady was meant to cut off her hair as short as possible. Certainly not Roland de Silvius's daughter.

That was who they all thought she was, wasn't it? That was what she thought, even though the idea terrified her.

And Elodie's only advice was not to trust him, which did not bode well. How could it? Elodie had been hiding from him for all of Wren's life. And hiding Wren from him as well.

Why? What had Roland de Silvius done to her all those years ago?