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“If I could have some of what’s in that pot, it would be more appreciated than you know,” Wren said, pointing toward the pot in question that contained the delicious smells. “Please.”

The cook blanched. “No thanks is needed.” She retrieved a wooden stool for Wren to sit on and placed it next to a long table in the middle of the room covered with herbs. The cook ladled out a bowlful of what turned out to be chicken and rabbit stew. She set food before Wren and went back to her work. Wren could not believe her luck. Then the woman gave her a plate with several slices of thickly buttered bread that was still warm from the oven.

“Thank the tides,” she whispered.

She sat there in silence for several minutes, reveling in the warmth of the bowl between her fingers and the delicious taste of the stew that passed her lips. It reminded Wren of home, which was bittersweet because her home was now in the hands of her enemies. The servants cast nervous glances in her direction. It was clear she was not supposed to be here but it gave her time to think.

Kalles had given her a weapon. Even now it dug into her breastbone. What was the meaning of it? She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. Was he setting her up? It was a possibility. Wren’s mother had told her the elves were partial to hiring assassins. They didn’t like to get their hands dirty.

Was this Kalles’ plan? Did he expect her to kill his half-brother? Arrik certainly had garnered the attention of his father. Were his other sons jealous?

She finished her soup and then rubbed her temples.

No one in this bloody palace seems trustworthy. They are all vipers.Truly, it seems as if the mad bard in the dungeons is the only one who speaks any sense around here.

She chuckled and ignored the looks tossed her way. The poor servants probably thought she’d lost her mind. Her laughter faded as she stared down at her wedding dress. She ran her fingers over the black fabric. Wren wore her husband’s colors.

Husband.

She was well and truly married to a monster. What had happened to the prince’s former wives? Had he killed them all? If he came at her, she’d strike him down. She would not become his next victim.

Wren chuckled at the thought, which caused the cook to furrow her brow in concern for her. “Is everything… Will you be all right?” the woman asked.

Wren waved her away. “I will be. I swear. Thank you for the food—it is the only true kindness I have seen in this land.”

Wren stared hard at the floor. Hiding in the kitchen wouldn’t be an option forever. Someone would soon look for her, if they hadn’t started already. The servants could be punished for harboring her.

Wren stood from the stool and trailed to the exit. She had too many things weighing on her conscience already. Pushing through the door, she wandered through the hallways, trying to remember the way back to the bathing room.

Somehow, she found what she’d been searching for. She’d almost given up at one point. All the hallways looked alike. It was a veritable maze.

Wren pushed open the door and stepped into the room. She froze as she spotted an unexpected woman inside. Queen Astrid sat on a striped chaise lounge. She straightened when she noticed Wren and stood, gliding forward.

“I…” Wren began, though she did not know what to say.

The queen moved toward her and took her hands. “I figured that when you ran off, you might find yourself back in the only room you knew,” she said, squeezing Wren’s fingers. It was a gesture Wren’s own mother used to do to make her feel better, which hurt her very soul. “It’s not safe to wander, my dear.”

“So I am told.”

Astrid nodded, her deep brown eyes scrutinizing Wren. “You are a princess.”

“I am.”

“With privilege comes responsibility.”

Wren cocked her head. “True.” What was the queen getting at?

Astrid sighed and pursed her lips. “Did your mother prepare you for what’s to come?”

What’s to come…the wedding night. Wren thought she might be sick.

“You are young,” the queen continued. “I don’t want to shock you.”

She shook her head. “I was taken from Lorne on my wedding day,” she reminded her. “Trust me, I know what is to come.” Not thatitwasgoingto happen. The prince would not be touching her this night. Nor any of them. The queen didn’t need to know that.

Astrid’s shoulders sagged in relief, and a small smile graced her face. “I’m happy to hear that. I’ve never had to have this conversation before.”

Wren gave the queen a weak smirk. “Not even with your sons?”