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Wren snorted at his arrogance. “As if he will get me back and be able to do such a thing. They will fight him until the bitter end.”

“Not if you’re at his side.”

She started. “I willneverrule at his side.”

Josenu studied her, his eyes roving over her face. “He has a way of getting what he wants, Princess. I’ve met no one who can outwit or outrun him.”

“I’ve done both, haven’t I?” she murmured.

“For now.” His ominous reply made a shiver run down her spine.

“You are right about one thing,” she admitted. “I need to keep my wits about me. Being emotional will get me nowhere.” A pause. “How can you stand to work for him, even if youarespying on behalf of the rebellion? You seem too…good.”

Too kind. Too concerned for Wren’s wellbeing to be a heartless Verlantian.

Not all dark elves are evil.

It was a disturbing thought. Their kingdom had always been the monsters looming on the horizon.

“I’ll take the compliment with thanks,” Josenu replied, a wry smile on his lips. “And as forhow…that is something you will work out, given time. Hopefully.”

“And what isthatsupposed to mean?” She crossed her arms and arched a brow. The spy seemed to get more cryptic by the minute.

“It means be careful, don’t underestimate Prince Arrik, and don’t trust just anyone with your secrets and your concerns.” He glanced back in the direction of Vienne’s tent, then murmured, “Blood doesn’t make someone honest. What you saw of King Soren with Arrik should be proof enough of that.”

As the two of them made their way back to camp before Wren’s absence could be noted, Wren pondered what Josenu had meant. Certainly, it was true that her aunt was clearly keeping something from her. But wasn’t that reasonable, given the fact much of the rebellion did not yet trust Wren? Plus, no one owed anyone all of their secrets.

So why did he compare her to Soren, and the way he is with Arrik?

Just what was Vienne up to…and how was it going to affect Wren and the Dragon Isles at large?

She peeked at Josenu from beneath her lashes. And what game was the spy playing? Was he trying to sow doubts in her mind about her kin? Could she trust him? Or any of them?

Trust only yourself. For now.

Josenu was right about one thing. Wren had to keep her wits about her, keep calm, and think with her head.

“I’ll hunt you.”

And not only when she was dealing with her barbaric husband.

6

WREN

Wren didn’t know what she had expected of the port city of Delansh, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The city was a mess of confusingly-laid-out spindly streets, crisscrossing over each other with barely a single marketplace available for trading and shopping. The buildings, their roofs, and their doors were made of seemingly any material the residents could get their hands on—brick, steel, slate, wood, straw, rough cloth, mud, clay—which resulted in not a single street looking the same.

Smells of fish, spices, bread, smoke, and salt filled the air. It seemed to chase Wren everywhere she went, and only got stronger as she forced her way through thousands of faceless bodies toward the port proper.

The city was busy. It was hectic. It was stressful. It was overwhelming.

But she liked the chaos. She was just one face among hundreds trying to scrape out a living.

When Wren reached the port, Delansh finally opened up into perhaps the largest, busiest, sprawling market Wren had ever seen. All manner of ships were docked along vast timber jetties, sailors and merchants alike hollering for help or heaving immense barrels and boxes on and off the harbor.

She sighed, feeling all at once at home. The sea and ships had always called to her. It was where she belonged. Her lips twitched in humor. While she was comfortable in the port, it was nothing like home.