Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

WREN

The little threads of magic chafed against her body, not quite painful, because Elodie would never intentionally cause her pain. She knew that. But Elodie always believed she knew what was for the best and was determined to get Wren to safety. So that was that.

The fact that she gave Wren no say in the matter didn't seem to occur to her. Nor did the utter hypocrisy of her accusing Wren of using magic to take away Finn's free will – which she definitely had not done – while doing the very same thing herself.

Her thoughts rumbled beneath the surface. She couldn't do anything to stop herself obeying. Had Elodie done this to her before? When she was younger maybe? She couldn't recall and that itself was a worry. The outrage of it all made her want to scream but she couldn't. All she could do was walk when Elodie wanted her to walk, and sit still when Elodie wanted her to sit still.

How dare Elodie do this to her? How dare she abduct her and drag her off against her will and tell her it was all for her own good?

She had always been like this. Always.

But, Wren was no longer a child.

So she answered Elodie's questions and tried to work out how to get herself out of this.

When Elodie quizzed her on the book and handed it back to her, an idea spiralled up from inside her. Like a spark of rebellion from the bonfire raging at the pit of her stomach.

Maybe Elodie was not as smart as she thought she was. Or maybe she was just too trusting.

The first of the lines of Elodie's magic that held Wren broke, and a shadow wound its way out of the pages of the book, up through the other lines, moving them aside.

Music whispered to her, words that weren't quite real, weren't quite understandable. She strained to listen as she walked, to understand. The song was there, but muffled by Elodie's enchantment. But the more she concentrated, the clearer it became.

It was only a matter of time until Elodie felt strong enough to cast her spell of transportation again, and then she'd drag Wren off to the other end of the kingdom to start over. If Wren didn't get out of this soon, she was going to be so far away from this place that she'd never make it back. She knew Elodie. She did not do things by half.

The book seemed to be the answer. It was magical, and it was trying to help her. She lingered behind Elodie and took it out, trying to read it as she walked. Again, the swirl of words and letters seemed to make no sense at first, until, at last, they resolved into something legible again.

The writing didn't look like Elodie's this time. Clearly that deception was at an end. It didn't matter, Wren decided. Now she knew it wasn't Elodie, she'd just have to be a bit more wary, that was all.

Come to the Seven Sisters , it said.

Sure, she thought, as easy as that.

And as soon as she thought that, another word appeared, one she didn't know. It was othertongue, but not in any form that she knew. The power radiating from it made her stumble and, when Elodie turned to look at her, she snapped the book shut.

‘This will have to do,' Elodie told her and held out her hands.

The strands of her spell still lingered enough that Wren had no choice but to reach out and join hands with her.

‘Please don't do this,' Wren whispered, but Elodie just tightened her grip and began to murmur the words of othertongue as she had in Knightsford. Light swelled around them, blinding and terrible, setting every nerve in Wren's body on fire. She tried to pull back, to tear herself free, but she couldn't. All the same, she struggled, panic sweeping through her.

She had to get out of this. She had to make Elodie stop.

Come to the Seven Sisters , the book had told her, and it had given her the means to do so. If she was just brave enough to do it.

The book sent out a final flicker of shadow and Elodie's spell holding Wren shattered.

Elodie's eyes opened wide as she felt it come apart, locked on Wren's face as Wren, unable to do anything else now, fixed her mind on the stone circle. She didn't know what it looked like but she tried to conjure up an image and something sprang into the forefront of her mind, like she had picked it out of the air. Tall standing stones in a ring, seven of them, ancient and cold, wreathed in darkness. Nothing grew in the middle. It was empty. The image wasn't a comfort, and it didn't feel like an escape. More like a trap.

Elodie had told her not to trust it, that it wasn't safe, but Wren hadn't listened. The book had given her a word, had forced it on her, and that was the word she said now. She had to. It fell cold and hard like iron from her lips, instead of the sweeping song she usually associated with othertongue. Even as she said it, she knew she had made a terrible mistake.

For a moment everything seemed to freeze. In Elodie's eyes, Wren saw the dawning horror spread through the blue of her irises like storm clouds.

‘What have you done?' Elodie whispered, and her voice, always so sure and certain, always so strong, quavered in horrified disbelief.