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With strength she didn’t possess, she hauled her sister closer and ran to the end of the larder.

“I have to put you down, little dragon,” she whispered to Britta. With shaking hands, she put her sister down for just a moment, breathing heavily as she struggled to lower a wooden shelving unit to the floor, pears and apples tumbled across the floor. She winced at the noise and wasted no time in rushing behind the hidden door the shelf revealed.

“Are we going to hide?” Britta asked, watching Wren close the door behind them and barricade it shut with the curious innocence that only a six-year-old could have in the face of danger.

Wren knelt in front of her sister, so their eyes were level with one another and held her sister’s tiny hands in her own. “No,” she said. “We are not hiding, Britta. We are going to run away.”

“To where?”

“Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here will do.”

Wren didn’t have it in her heart to admit out loud that she did not know where on earth they could go. She helped Britta through and then righted the shelf as best she could. It wouldn’t hide the entrance very well but maybe it would give them enough of a head start. Wren squeezed into the gap between the door and the tunnel and closed the door.

Her sister whimpered and Wren picked her back up. Even though her arms screamed it was better this way. Britta hadn’t memorized the passageways yet and would only slow their escape.

For several torturous minutes, Wren stumbled through the darkened tunnels, not daring to light any of the torches in the sconces for fear of giving their position away to anyone who might be lurking in the passageways.

Her lungs and legs burned.

Wren slowed and deposited Britta on her feet. She handed her sister the ruined edge of her wedding dress.

“I need just a little break,” she panted. “Don’t let go of my dress.”

“Okay.” Britta’s voice wobbled.

“You are doing amazing. What a brave warrior you are,” Wren encouraged softly as she began to walk forward, ears straining for any noise.

“Your dress is wet and sticky,” her sister whined, hysteria coloring her tone.

“Just a bit of water and maybe some dirt.”Probably blood.“Do you remember what mum used to say? A little bit of dirt never hurt anyone.”

“It’s ruined,” Britta whispered. “Your pretty dress. Papa said it cost a fortune.”

Wren bit her bottom lip as it quivered. She didn’t want to think about her wedding dress, nor why she was wearing it. If she did, everything that had gone wrong today, and all that she had lost would overwhelm her. She’d be lost.

You are lost.

No, she would not think like that. She would let her and Rowen’s last words to each other ring in her head.They would meet again. Again, and soon. He was not gone.

The ground began to slope upward, and Wren slowed their pace. If her memory served her right, this tunnel exited on the very fringes of the town surrounding Lorne Keep. She ran her left hand along the uneven surface of the wall and stopped when she felt the edges of a door. Britta bumped into the back of her legs and Wren leaned her left shoulder into the door. It gave way with a groan that was far too loud.

Wren pulled Britta in after her.

“Something is in my hair!” Britta exclaimed. “Is it a spider?”

The very thought made Wren sick. By the tides, she loathed those eight-legged beasties. She closed the door and brushed at the top of her sister’s head and flinched when webs caught on her fingers.

Don’t think about it. Elves are worse than spiders.

“All done. No spiders,” she lied.

They continued up the sloped hallway, as a little bit of light filtered in from another doorway just ahead. Wren held her fingers to her lips as she caught sight of the fear on Britta’s face. No explosions or fighting could be heard from the tunnel. Could it be that the fighting hadn’t reached the common people? Wren prayed it hadn’t.

She took a deep breath to ready herself. Britta emulated the action, clearly deciding that the best thing to do was to directly copy her big sister. It filled Wren’s heart with affection, which only served to enunciate the ache in her chest. She gave the little girl a smile and grabbed Britta’s hand, trying to ignore how badly her own shook, and approached the small door.

She leaned her ear against it and listened.

Silence.