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“I was sold to you. Did you think gems from my own kingdom would sway me?” Not exactly antagonistic, but not the words of seductress either.

He barked out a laugh. “You’re not one to hold back your thoughts, are you?”

Her lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. “So I am told.”

His mirth faded. “It is a dangerous habit in this place.”

“Are you a danger to me?” she whispered, holding his icy blue gaze.

“I’m a danger to everyone.” The prince spoke quietly like he was speaking to himself. He stepped back and held his hand out. “Are you ready to face the wolves?” he asked, changing the subject.

Wren faced him and took his hand. “I was raised with dragons. I can handle a few wolves.”

27

Wren

The dinner was exactly what Wren had imagined it would be: overly opulent and full of snide laughter and too much alcohol. Arrik’s brothers kept making comments about her—even Kalles who had tried to help her—ensuring she did not forget how filthy and disgusting she’d been when she had been brought up from the dungeon.

I’d rather all that muck and blood to your laughter.

To her right, Arrik caught her eye, and imperceptibly shook his head. She could tell he knew exactly what she was thinking. But all he did was smile blandly, his expression giving nothing away about whathethought. This only served to annoy her further.

Don’t make a scene. Keep your head down.

She took a delicate sip of her pumpkin soup. The king’s voice rose, catching her attention. Wren tried to focus on her soup and block out his words. She had deliberately avoided listening to him so far.

“Oh, the Dragon Isles have put up far more of a fight than any of us could have expected,” he said, waving a casual hand as he spoke, “but they are now completely subdued.” A pointed look at Wren. “A dragon in chains is just a beast to be tamed, after all. And now we have many of them! Just look at Arrik’s wild bride. All she needed was a strong Verlanti hand to get her in line, just like her mother.”

Her head snapped up and Wren acted before she could think. Grabbing her goblet of wine, she tossed it into the king’s face, even as Arrik caught her wrist. But it was too late.

The entire room went quiet, all laughter and cruel jibes gone in an instant.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was clear Wren had crossed a line nobody had thought she’d dare to.

She held her breath as Soren opened his eyes, wine dripping from his hair and face. He chuckled, but his eyes were hard as flint when he stared her down. “It seems someone is yet to learn some respect for her betters. Guards, I think our feral princess is better suited to the dungeon than to the dinner table, don’t you?”

Wren said nothing.

The prince’s fingers tightened on her wrist, and he lowered her hand and the goblet to the table. His expression was like stone. Arrik had promised to protect her but she crossed a boundary. She hadn’t followed her side of the deal.

Calm down. You will be okay. The dragon is in the dungeon.

She exhaled slowly and pulled her wrist from the prince’s fingers. Wren pushed her chair out and stood from the table. She wouldn’t be dragged away kicking and screaming.

“Good evening,” she murmured.

The last thing she saw as the guards escorted her away was the prince, whose blank expression had not cracked but his eyes glared daggers at her.

Good.

She flashed a grin at him the moment before the door was closed behind her.

Be furious. I do not care. I am not your perfect bride who will do what you want.

Then why did she feel so much guilt?