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The one she’d made a deal with.

A rush of memories of the last however many hours flooded Wren’s brain in one confusing, overwhelming swoop.

He’s a prince.He was supposed to kill me, yet here I am. A prisoner, not dead.

Wren didn’t know which one she preferred.

Her focus moved to her bare legs and the long black shirt that covered her to her knees. Someone had undressed her. She swallowed hard and steeled herself before meeting the prince’s gaze again.

“Did you undress me?”

“No.”

“Did your men?”

“A healer.”

“You didn’t kill me.” A statement.

The man neither smiled nor frowned nor gave away any other sign of emotion as he stared at her. His ice blue eyes darted from Wren’s to her hair and back again. “Yes,” he finally said, so softly she barely heard him over the quiet roar of the sea. “It is me. You did not expect to still be alive, did you, Princess?”

She held his gaze and rubbed at her left wrist, her shackles clattering. “Your kind aren’t known to keep their word.” He didn’t react to her barb. Not easily ruffled. That was good to know. Wren cocked her head and kept silent. She watched his eyes go to her hair again, as if he found it impossible not to stare at it. Why did this strange Verlantian warrior keep looking at her hair? Hadn’t he seen red hair before?

Maybe he has a fetish.

She glared at him, feeling exposed and angry.

“Are you in shock?” he asked. “It would not surprise me if you were. You’ve been through much.”

Wren did not know how to answer that—nor if sheshould.For of course she was in shock, but that was not why she hadn’t answered the man’s question. She had far too much to process and work out to do what he wanted. And besides…she peered through the darkness to try and grasp the lines of the man’s face; she was dealing with the Beast of the Barbarians. Wren had heard of his interrogation techniques during her training. He was known for his brutality. She had to tread carefully. He thought she was the heir and that would keep her safe.

At least for now.

As if reading her mind, the man’s gaze fell to her chest, though not with the lecherous look in his eyes she had become accustomed to from some of the less savory traders who occasionally came to Lorne.

It was assessing.

“You agreed to a treaty between our two nations through marriage, but I have a feeling it’s not as simple as that. Are you going to be difficult?”

She stayed silent. Her shoulders ached and she rolled her left one. They’d put her shoulder back into place. That was a good sign at least.

Unless they want you to be healthy when they start the torture.

He sighed before standing up and stretching his huge arms up and behind his head. Wren heard one of his shoulders pop, and the man sighed in satisfaction. “Ah, I’ve been trying to work out that knot in my shoulder since I ordered you to be shot from the sky.”

She stiffened.Aurora.

The prince glanced in her direction, and he gave her the barest hints of a smile. “Yes, that was me. You truly were a sight to behold. I did not know Oswin had trained his daughter to be so fierce. You risked much by flying with the warriors. You could have died.”

Wren was disgusted by the compliment. Every word that came out of the man’s mouth felt manipulative and soaked in poison. The prince seemed to like twisting words to get his way. She could see why he’d received the reputation of being a serpent. He could make anyone his pawn, but not her. She’d win. He just didn’t know it yet. She had to keep calm.

He killed your family.

She battled back her rage, barely keeping herself from trying to tear his face off.

“Have you forgotten how to speak? Should I remind you?” the man asked, his hand lingering over the pommel of a dagger in a move that was clearly meant to be frightening. And Wrenwasfrightened; she was not so foolish as to not admit to that. The Verlantian prince was tall and broad and fierce, with his sharply handsome face and even sharper mind, she was in danger if she didn’t play her cards right.

Get yourself together.