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“Not planning on it,” she murmured.Hopefully.

“You are looking a bit green,” Rowen teased, his teeth bright against his swarthy face.

The crowd snickered.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

“That’s right, missy,” Dara crooned. “Let him have it. No sense in letting him think he’s getting a docile bride.”

The king chuckled, giving Wren’s shoulder a pat. “If he wanted a docile woman, Rowen would have run screaming for the seas already.”

“Oh hush,” she chastised, squirming just a bit in her seat. “Let’s get this over with.”

She laid her left arm across the table, wrist up. Dara’s warm reedy fingers curled around Wren’s hand, holding her still as the old woman lifted the needle. Wren locked eyes with Rowen. This was it—the final sealing act of the ceremony.

No longer would she belong to one house, but two.

Not two souls, but one intertwined forevermore.

Her heart thundered with excitement.

Almost done.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Dara leaned in, and then she couldn’t help closing her eyes.

Thunder boomed, shaking the building.

Wren’s eyes popped open. What the bloody hell?

Dara hesitated, and Wren looked around. Dust from the rafters fell from above, and, for a moment, everyone was still.

Bjorn seemed to shake it off first, his bushy brows furrowed. “What kind of storm—” But he broke off as another boom rattled the keep.

Wren’s stomach dropped.

That wasn’t thunder, but an explosion.

Her eyes widened as she stared at Rowen.

An attack.

Another bang went off, the vibrations rattling her teeth in her skull. The tension broke, and everyone went wild.

“Everyone, out!” her father bellowed over the screams of frightened children. “Stay away from the windows and move into the cellar, now!”

Numbness kept Wren rooted to her seat even as Rowen shot up from his own, his normally jovial face set in harsh lines of worry and anger. A high whistle filled the air as he reached for her, making to grab for her hand but not quite reaching it as the next explosion went off.

The blast tossed her from her chair. Wren tumbled to the ground.Hard. Her palms stung as she tried to sit up, her ears ringing.

“Wren!” Rowen called out over the sudden cacophony of panicked screaming. Rubble began to fall from the ceiling. The wooden rafters groaned and swayed ominously. “Run!”

Horror filled her as one of her friends was crushed in his flight from the chapel. She grabbed the hem of her dress as she staggered to her feet, the floor rolling beneath her. Her eyes watered from the stench of smoke and debris in the air. Where was her family? Wren searched the chaos, not seeing any signs of them.

Move, Wren, or you’ll die.

She lurched toward the nearest doorway as the telltale whistle filled her ears.

Get to safety. Get armed. Then fight.