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She didn’t know what to say to him. She wanted to yell at him that she did want it, but there was still so much she didn’t understand. So many emotions that were at war within her. So she simply said, “Your language is out of control.”

He smiled sadly at her and moved towards her. His presence filling all of her senses. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead lingering. “I am here for you, Wren. If it is within my power, I will always give it to you.”

“But you won’t start a war for me?” she tried to joke.

He shook his head. “You didn’t listen to me, I said if I thought you wanted it.” He turned to pick up his violin and as he passed he brushed his hand against hers.

Wren stood motionless for some time after he left, his kiss still lingering on her lips and her guilt making her heart heavy.

Chapter 24

Wrenfoundherselflayingon the bench that she had previously shared with Wesley only an hour ago. The warm sunlight covered her like it was claiming her as part of the garden and Wren was loath to remind it that she was only a temporary fixture. She found she would much rather stay there and hide from the reality of what she had done. She had taken something that was safe and easy and convoluted it into something that was complicated and forbidden.

Wesley had been right. As long as she was stuck in Valmere, she was tied to Malaki. As much as she wanted to rage against her lack of autonomy, she knew she had put Wesley in a terrible position. Just when she thought she had properly scolded herself, she remembered the kiss and the heat it had brought to her. She remembered how he smelt of coriander and cinnamon. She remembered how need built in her and how his lips fit against hers perfectly. She remembered how he had pulled away from her and embarrassment flooded her soon followed by anger that there was so little she could control.

With a dramatic sigh, Wren extricated herself from the bench, knowing that she couldn’t hide there forever. She could possibly hide in her rooms for a considerable amount of time. Not nearly long enough to assuage the guilt and settle the anger raging throughout her, but at least it was something.

The halls leading to her room seemed particularly bare of servants and nobility coming and going, causing an eerie feeling to build in her. Wren rubbed her temple trying to rid herself of the confusing jumble of emotions taking up space in her.

A sense of unease and dread forced her to stand entirely still. It was the distinct feeling of being watched. She whirled around and found the Bishop watching her from the direction she had just come. His gray eyes bore into her, and she resisted the urge to scratch at her mark. Malaki’s warning to stay away from him rang in her mind. Wren shot him a curt glare before turning back to her rooms.

“Did you have a nice trip to the village yesterday?” he called in his distinct nasally voice that made Wren want to cringe. Wren turned to face him, willing her face to remain neutral.

“Forgive me, I am unable to linger, I have an appointment,” she lied smoothly, the need to be away from him growing. It was difficult to see him, let alone be near him without seeing Cara’s lifeless body. That this murderer could walk free still kept her up at night even with Malaki’s promise of revenge.

He came closer to her, and Wren fought the urge to take a step back, she would not let him see her fear. He would only know disdain and disgust from her. She wished she had some way of defending herself or at least some way to call for help, but she had the terrible feeling that if she called out no one would answer. When he was nearly to her, he fixed his eyes on her.

“Yes, I suppose your activity in the garden might make one seek refuge.”

She stared at him, feeling as if she must not have heard him correctly. Her hatred receded slightly to make room for the shock of his words.

“You will quickly learn, child, that I have eyes everywhere. There is nothing you can hide from me,” he said as he closed the distance between her and grabbed her arm, bending her finger to the point of pain in order to pull it from the hole that held her sleeve to her snuggly. She tried to pull away, but his grasp was unyielding.

Before Wren could protest, he was pulling up her sleeve and they were both looking at the tattoo marking her skin.

He smiled a self-satisfied smile. “I wonder which one of them gave you this.” He let her rip her hand away, holding it close to her body. “The king expects you at dinner tonight, your absence has been noted.”

He turned and walked away from her back into the depths of whatever crevice he had crawled out of. Wren’s heart thundered in her chest and she stumbled backwards before turning and walking as fast as she could back to her rooms. Her skin crawled and anxiety raged like a tidal wave within her. Somehow he knew about it all. He had seen her in the garden with Wesley and he knew about her mark.

The Bishop could do unspeakable damage with what he knew and Wren was sure that she couldn’t even begin to understand the scope of his ill intent. When Wren reached her door she was nearly hyperventilating.

What would happen to Wesley if he told the king about what happened between them? What did it mean that the Bishop hadn’t been surprised about the mark? Wren flung herself on the bed and let the questions crash around her until she was sure she would never leave her room again.

Chapter 25

Wrenpacedbackandforth on the plush red carpet of her sitting room enough that she was sure her heels would leave indents. She knew she needed to work up the courage to go to dinner. The Bishop’s warning had been clear and she could not afford to offend the king when the Bishop had so much power over her. She was already late for dinner despite having dressed long ago.

She told herself not to be a coward, but she couldn’t bear to face any of them. Not Wesley, not the king, not the Bishop, and certainly not Malaki. When the rush of the moment was over between her and Wesley it felt like there was a betrayal there. Even though they were forced to marry and there was no love between them, it still felt like a betrayal.

Each thump on the door was as if it were on her own skin. Her heart beat so thunderously that she would not have been the least bit surprised if it came free of her chest. She stared at the door, bringing her fingers to her mouth. Wren hadn’t bit her nails since she was a child and yet she found herself constantly reminding herself to cease the old habit.

“Wren, I know you are in there. Listen, my father sent me. He won’t take no for an answer. He sent me to come and get you.”

Wren groaned thinking there were very few other people he could have sent to torment her.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, finding Richard looking at her apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she replied, surprised at the heat in her voice.