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“I love you,” Britta said, her sleepy eyes gazing up at Wren.

“I love you, too.” Her sister sighed and snuggled closer, falling asleep almost immediately. “Where should I lay her down?”

Aileen pushed to her feet. “Our room.”

Wren managed to stand and moved into the couple’s room. She placed her sister’s small form beneath the pulled back covers as Aileen stoked the fire in the room. Wren dropped a kiss on top of Britta’s curls and closed her eyes.

This might be the last time you see her.

“I love you more than you will ever know.” She gulped back her tears. “Some types of love can fade, change, or betray you. But not a sissy’s love. That’s forever. I’ll come back for you, little dragon.”

She opened her eyes and pulled the blankets up to Britta’s chin and faced Aileen.

The older woman held out a change of clothes.

Wren took them gratefully and then grimaced. Despite how ruined her dress was, there was no way she’d be able to get out of it. “Would you help me?” she asked, presenting her back to the older woman.

Aileen tutted softy. “The knots are so tangled. It’s going to take a while.”

“Cut me out of it,” she said woodenly.

“If you want me to.” Aileen retreated and then pulled the top of the dress away from Wren’s back. “Here we go.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as the garment was cut from her body. It fell to the floor, and she stepped out of the ruined gown and quickly dressed in the new leathers. They were a little loose but better than her previous outfit. Aileen picked up the remains of Wren’s soiled dress and held it out.

“Burn it,” Wren whispered. “Or turn it into rags. I don’t care.” She strode to the older woman and kissed her cheek. “Care for Britta for me.” With one last glance at her sister, she left the room and Aileen began to hum a lullaby.

Cal stood at Wren’s entrance and approached her with an antique looking bow, a quiver full of arrows, and a flask.

He held out the drink and she took a slug of the whiskey, her throat burning. Cal took the flask back and had a drink too before handing over the weapons.

“I don’t want you leaving this house, but if you must, you’ll be outfitted like a queen.”

Wren pulled the bowstring back, the tension almost perfect. She lowered the bow and ran her hand over the smooth wood. “Is this Aileen’s?”

“No, lass. It was my mothers.” Cal gave her a smile. “She was a fierce woman who had more courage than a thousand men. May her bow serve you well this night.” He pulled her into a gruff hug. “May the winds be with you.”

“And with you.” Wren pulled away and opened the door. “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be waiting, lass.”

She stepped into the storm and exhaled heavily as Cal shut the door behind her.

Time to avenge her family.

7

Wren

With every step she took toward the cliffs, Wren had to force herself not to look back at the ever-shrinking sight of Rowen’s grandparents’ house. If she looked at it, she would rush back to Britta—to warmth and safety—and then all would be lost.

Don’t look back.

She did not look back, and the ragged black stone cliffs came closer and closer into view.

Turn your grief into rage. Fight for what you’ve lost. Protect those left.

Her guilt and pain stoked the ember of rage in her belly and Wren wiped away any lingering tears from her eyes. There would be a time to mourn. Today was not that day. Today, she’d wage war against her people’s enemies andwin.