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The boy could only laugh. “I was not captured in Verlanti because I am mad, Wren.”

It was the first time he’d said her name. The first time he’d acknowledged his own so-called madness. Wren was wary as much as she was intrigued.

“Whoareyou?” she asked, but the boy merely grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Later,” he said. “For now, we must be quiet.”

The pair of them tiptoed down the pier and past the houses, through the market and the first alleyway they came across. The boy led Wren beneath stone bridges and through narrow corridors with practiced ease, which only served to fuel her suspicion that she had completely underestimated him.

“Where are we going?” Wren whispered after another ten minutes of twisting and wandering through the midnight streets of Verlanti. Luckily, anyone around ignored them.

“Here,” was all he said, before leading her through a large wooden door which opened silently on its hinges.

Inside, the building was so dark Wren could not even see her hand in front of her face, but then one lantern after another lit up all around her—revealing that she and the boy were surrounded. A dozen masked people, all wielding swords or spears or daggers, formed a tight circle around them, and Wren’s heart sank.

This is not happening. I did not escape the Verlanti Palace and all of its barbaric people just to die like this.

“Leif? Leif, is that you?”

“Aye,” the boy said, grinning. “So please don’t skewer me.Ormy companion.”

The person who had spoken—a woman—took off her mask to peer at Wren.

She froze, not believing her eyes as she stared at the woman. It was her mother.It can’t be.“You died,” Wren rasped.

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “I am not your mother.”

“Then are you a spirit here to torment me for my failure?” Wren whispered, not taking her gaze off the apparition

Sympathy filled the woman’s expression. “My dear, I am your aunt, Vienne. I’m so glad Leif was able to get you out.”

Aunt?

“Shegotmeout,” the boy who was called Leif replied. He sounded pleased about it. Proud. “On the back of a dragon, no less. It was bloody terrifying.”

Wren was beyond confused about what was going on. She focused on the woman who’d removed her mask. Vienne was petite and the same age as Wren’s own mother, with lines on her face that suggested she’d seen more than her fair share of hardships.

“What have I been brought into?” Wren asked, her voice slow and soft and steady—unlike her throbbing, nervous heart.

Her aunt smiled and opened her arms wide. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Myths, Dragon Princess. We’d sincerely hoped to run into you.”

Wren frowned. “The Kingdom of—”

“Myths,” Leif finished for her, squeezing her hand before letting go of it. “It’s an order designed to balance out the world. And damn if it’s out of balance right now.”

“We seek to take out and replace those who are corrupt,” Vienne added, when it was clear Wren was no wiser about what the Kingdom of Myths did.

And then it clicked.

“Like…taking out the High King of Verlanti?”

Vienne’s smile became a feral grin. All around her, the masked faces of the people grew wild. “Of course. Why else would we be here? And so, the only question I have for you, Princess, is this: won’t you join us?”

Wren hesitated. Running back to Lorne had never been a good solution to her situation—not when Verlanti had taken the country over. But dispatching King Soren…

That would free the Dragon Isles for good.

Verlanti and its king will pay for what they’ve done.