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“All of it,” he replied quietly. “For this, for that, for all of it.”

“That is terribly specific,” she spat back.

“Gods, Wren, do you want me to go into detail because if it will make amends I will.”

She had never heard the arrogant prince use such a gentle tone. For reasons she could not fathom, the attempt at remorse only served to increase her foul mood.

“Did you know what would happen that night?” It was a question that had stayed with her like a loyal companion all those months.

Richard ran his hand over his face accompanied by a large sigh. “No. Yes. I knew it would get rid of you. I didn’t know that it would trap you in between there and here.”

“Did you think I would be able to get home that night?” Wren’s voice was low and full of poison.

Richard ran a hand through his hair and wouldn’t meet her eyes. She would make him say it. He thought he could be released from this confession without speaking the words, but that was not how this would end. The silence stretched on until Richard’s handsome face twisted with frustration.

“No. I knew it wouldn’t work.”

Wren hated the silver that she knew lined her eyes. “He really did save me that night.”

“Yes.” Richard whispered.

She had spent months hating Malaki for that night. Even when she could begin to look past the biting remarks and the cold countenance he presented she could never move past the knowledge that he had prevented her from going home. There wasn’t enough time or energy to consider the implications of his actions that night.

“Why? I did nothing to you.” A rogue tear left a cool trail down her cheek.

If guilt had a corporeal form it would look like Richard did now. He took several steps back until he was supported by the wall. “You don’t understand what it’s like. What he pushes you to do and become. To everyone he’s just the king, but for Kai and I it’s different. I don’t know how Kai does it. He somehow manages to live up to his every expectation, but doesn’t have to make any of the sacrifices it takes.”

Irritation flooded Wren’s blood stream as if it were a part of her. She didn’t want his excuses or how he rationalized hurting her. So instead of asking the questions that needed to be asked she shut the door and strode past him, his footsteps following a few moments later.

Reaching the hall, Wren took a deep breath before entering allowing her anger to become her shield. The hall was abuzz with the normal chatter and it seemed that her presence wasn’t readily noted which she was grateful for. She made her way to the dais where Malaki's eyes flicked to her sharp and assessing. She wished she could tell him he needn’t bother worrying. The king only looked satisfied as she and Richard took their seats.

“Nice of you to join us, daughter,” crooned the king.

She bit back the retort that she hadn’t had a choice. Instead she only faced forward, choosing to not acknowledge the comment. The servants laid out roasted chicken and heavily seasoned boiled potatoes causing her stomach to roll at the sight and smell. The thought of eating any of it made her stomach flip unnaturally.

Malaki leaned in close to her and whispered, “Did something happen?”

Wren felt nauseous. Why would he ask her that? Had the Bishop already divulged her secrets? She shook her head and took a sip of the wine. Thinking twice about it she decided to simply drink the whole cup not caring if it was in poor taste. The king chuckled and she fought the urge to throw the empty cup at him.

“Father, what is this about? She is obviously upset, and you are obviously enjoying it.” Malaki meant to be protective of her, but she groaned into her once-more full cup of wine.

“Careful, Malaki. You forget yourself,” the king warned him quietly. It was easy to forget the king was a threat to them.

Wren remembered what she had learned about the king, seeing even his sons as expendable. He presided over these dinners with little theatrics, making him seem docile, but the voice that reprimanded Malaki was anything but docile.

Wren placed a hand on Malaki’s arm in an attempt to ease the tension building. “I am fine, truly. Just in a bad temper this evening.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe her, but let it go. She downed the next glass of wine, vowing to take the next one more slowly. Waves of anger and frustration rolled in her and she couldn’t understand the strong emotion’s presence. If anything, the time in the garden was more embarrassing than causing her anger. Even the meeting with the Bishop should have made her more anxious than angry.

“Wren, would you care to dance?” asked Malaki tentatively.

No. She did not want to dance. She wanted to wallow in self-pity and throw things against the wall.

“It will help, Wren. If not with me then someone else. I can get Wesley, if you like.”

She whipped her head towards him. “Why would you say that?” Her voice was thick with accusation.

Malaki looked at her and she could see that he was struggling to understand her anger. “Because you are at ease around him.” He lowered his voice. “Wren, you need to calm down. I’m worried what you will do if you don’t. Think of the vase.”