Page 33

“Lass, you’re going nowhere. Save your energy.”

Baring her teeth at him, she struggled harder, although much to her embarrassment, their grips didn’t loosen in the slightest. Her breaths drew short as they exited the chapel and entered the grand hall. A lump rose in her aching throat at the destruction. The furniture was broken, the decorations destroyed, and red splatters covered the gray stone floor.

Wren’s attention moved to the bottom of the dais where she’d seen her parents last. Their bodies were gone but she couldn’t get the images of them dying out of her mind. Her bottom lip wobbled, and she sucked it into her mouth to keep from crying. She wouldn’t let the enemy see her grief.

The warriors stopped before the dais and hauled Wren to her feet. She swayed, not taking her gaze from the stones where she’d lost her parents. They were gone.

“Kneel before your lord,” the dark-haired elf to her right demanded.

Wren tore her gaze from the stones and glared up at the elf. His dark eyes narrowed as she held his gaze and stood a little taller. She would never kneel for the Verlanti.

She grunted when he kicked the back of her knee, causing her to fall. Her palms slapped against the floor as she caught herself. Her heart pounded and she glanced over her right shoulder. Wren gathered the saliva in her mouth and spit at him. It landed on his dirt-smeared boot and he took one step toward her.

“Enough,” a deep voice commanded.

A shiver ran through her body at the power in the one word alone. A small smile lifted her lips as she stared down the dark-haired elf. He clenched his jaw and retreated.

“Coward,” she rasped, pain flaring in her neck.

“Silence!”

“Or what?” she muttered.

A hand grabbed the hair at the back of her head and pulled. She winced, hating that she dismissed the redhead. Her gaze locked onto the man sitting atop the dais.

On her father’s throne.

The same man she’d tried to kill.

Rage filled her and she tried to move forward, only to be yanked back by her hair by the redhead. She clawed at his arm, and he cursed but didn’t release her hair. The other dark elf stepped in, securing her arms behind her back. Wren glared mutinously at the warrior sitting on her father’s throne.

“How dare you sit there!” she spat.

He arched a silver brow and leaned back as if to get more comfortable. “What is it to you? The man who previously held this position was weak.”

“My father was not weak. You’re half the man he was.”

A glint entered his ice blue eyes. “That was easier than I expected. Welcome, Princess.”

She frowned. What was he getting at? “What of it?”

“I would have thought your people would have hidden you away from me.”

Dread crept into her chest. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just surprised that your family allowed their only heir to wander about the keep. Especially, one helpless when it comes to battle.”

She schooled her expression. Heir? They thought she was the heir? For once in her life, she was so bloody thankful for her parent’s paranoia. They had shielded Britta from the world. Anyone outside Lorne Keep believed that there was only one princess.

Wren held her head high and eyed the bandage tied around his bare stomach. She slowly lifted her eyes to his face and smirked. “Not too helpless it seems,” she quipped.

He didn’t rise to her bait but the hands holding her arms back tightened painfully. Someone didn’t like her attitude. She gritted her teeth and glanced up at the dark-haired elf. He glared at her.

“Watch your tone,” he growled. “You’re speaking to your betters.”

Her betters? Her upper lip curled. “Did you not hear your master? I’m a princess, how dare you think to command me.”

“You’re nothing but isle filth,” he retorted. “Speak to my prince again like that and you’ll not like the consequences.”