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“I don’t have the strength.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. That’s why I love you. Now leave me. Save your sister and yourself.”

“This is not goodbye,” she insisted, desperate to believe her own empty words. “It isn’t. I love you. We shall see each other again, and soon.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Rowen said, clearly lying. He coughed, and it was full of blood, and Wren’s resolve faltered. “Go,” he muttered again. He let go of Wren’s hand.

She hauled Britta back into her arms and she forced herself to her feet though her legs shook. “I’ll be back,” she murmured.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Wren blew him a kiss and then turned on her heel, fleeing down the darkening corridor with Britta in her arms. Every step she took seemed to carve another piece of her heart away.

“I’m sorry, sissy,” Britta sniffed.

Wren licked her lips and pressed a kiss to the top of her little sister’s head. “So am I.”

Tonight, she’d lost the love of her life and her parents.

But she’d not lost everything.

She hugged Britta closer to her chest.

She still had her sister.

6

Wren

There was no time to comprehend what she had just lost. All Wren knew was that she and Britta had to run, run, run. Away from the noise and the danger. Away from the swords and the steel and the blood.

Away from their parents.

Away from Rowen.

“We can’t leave them,” Britta cried as they fled the chapel. “We can’t leave Mum and Papa and Rowen. If we don’t save them, they—”

“We have to get you out,” Wren cut in, not meaning to be so harsh with her little sister but finding it impossible to be gentle. Her grief hurt so much. “If we stay, we’ll die.”

“That isn’t true! We can fight—”

Wren clamped her sister’s mouth shut, half to stop her words from filling her ears and half to silence their escape across the courtyard. They had to remain as quiet as possible to re-enter the castle unseen and unheard. The hidden underground passages were their only hope of escaping with their lives. Hopefully, all of them hadn’t been breached by the enemy.

She pulled in a deep breath before crossing the courtyard. The elves were everywhere. Tense and frightened, Wren kept to the shadows, her heart galloping as the sounds of fighting filled her ears. The storm whipped her torn dress against her bare legs, and Wren squinted as Britta’s loose hair flew into her face.

The skies broke open once more and she shivered as heavy rain drops fell from the darkened sky. She grimaced as her feet slipped in mud and Britta’s arms tightened around her neck. Wren paused next to the servant’s entrance and kicked off her shoes. She wouldn’t leave a trail for anyone to follow. Her sister shivered and began to cry softly against Wren’s shoulder. She kissed Britta’s now-sodden blond head.

“Be brave just for a little while longer,” she whispered to her sister before checking inside the entrance. The lanterns were dark, and no one was about.

Now or never.

Wren rushed through the room and down the corridor, sprinting toward the kitchen. They were almost there. Behind them, a banging noise from the courtyard alerted them to the presence of more Verlantian soldiers closing in. Wren ruthlessly shoved down the panic that threatened to drown her. There was no time to waste: a secret entrance to the underground passages through the larder was their best bet for escape.

Get to the larder. Get to the larder. Get to the larder. One more step and then you’re there. Just one more, and one more.

It was a bloody miracle that they reached the larder without Britta slipping into one of her fits, or Wren losing her composure. She closed the door behind them and edged through the room. It was well-stocked and heaving with the produce of summer. Her pulse ratcheted up a notch as a series of curses echoed in a nearby corridor.

It was only a matter of time before they would be spotted if Wren didn’t move faster.