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It was unfathomable.

Her greatest enemy had offered her power and freedom.

It has strings and you know it. Don’t forget what he’s done.

Yet the way Vienne, Ever, and Bram had discounted her observations about the prince and his motives only served to incline Wren to trusting her own instincts more and more. They had never served her wrong before—not on the Dragon Isles, not in the Verlanti dungeon, not in trusting Leif, not when she escaped upon the back of a dragon.

And if that were the case…

Did that mean Wren should trust everything Arrik had told her too? Was siding with him actually the best thing she could do right now, despite everything he’d done?

She shook her head.

It was too difficult a situation for her to work through right now when a meeting with Lord Idril was imminent. She needed her wits about her for that, if Leif’s comments were anything to go by.

Prepare yourself.

“Stop,” Vienne said in a clipped, hushed tone, holding out a hand to make the rest of their group pause.

Wren peered through the darkness and the trees, wondering what had caught her aunt’s attention. Then she saw it: a flash, there one moment and gone the next. It reappeared a few seconds later.

Torchlight reflecting off armor. Wren had experienced it plenty of times before to know exactly what it was.

Soldiers.

Josenu had warned them about the increased patrols happening throughout the forest. They had been lucky so far in that they hadn’t come across any of these patrols—Arrik’s own soldiers earlier that day notwithstanding—so it felt like an inevitability that they’d finally happened across one.

Nobody moved. A single motion, a single noise, a single word, would give them away. Wren hardly dared to breathe. Her attention wavered away from the soldiers and to the edge of the forest. It would be so easy to use the distraction of the patrol to slip away from the rebellion forever. Find Trove. Follow her own path.

Running away is never the right decision.

Before Wren could ponder the idea further, the patrol disappeared, and Vienne motioned for the group to continue.

Half an hour of silent trekking later, they came upon Lord Idril’s residence. It appeared quite suddenly. One moment Wren was surrounded by trees and the next she was standing in front of the high stone walls of a castle.

It was larger than the Dragon Keep.

“It’s stunning,” she gasped, momentarily awed by the towering, dark, smooth-stoned surface of the castle. It reflected the forest back at them. Every few feet the stone was punctuated by lanterns and torches, hundreds of them in total, twinkling like stars in the inky night sky.

It should have been quiet. The forest had been silent after all, and it was the middle of the night. But music, singing, shouting, curses, and dancing spilled from open windows.

The group approached the castle, only to be halted by a huge elf dressed in armor from head to toe. He stood at the base of the stairs and sketched a bow to Vienne. “My lady, Lord Idril awaits your arrival.” He scanned the group. “Accommodations have been made for your people and animals.”

“Thank you, Satire.”

“My pleasure, my lady.”

He nodded to the guards at the entrance to the castle. They pulled open the double doors and Wren flinched at the cacophony of sound that rushed out to great them. It was the loudest thing she’d heard since the Verlantians stormed upon the Dragon Keep.

Her aunt drew near to Wren’s side. “Keep your mouth shut and your head down. Cover your hair.”

Wren nodded and yanked up her hood over her curls. Even if she wanted to say anything, no one would be able to hear her over all the racket. Her pulse leapt as they ascended the stairs and entered the castle, footsteps echoing absurdly loudly on the flagstones. For a few moments there was nothing to be seen but a wide, empty corridor, adorned on both sides with sumptuous curtains and tapestries. A male servant dressed in nothing but a gaudy robe and a translucent veil directed them up a grand flight of stairs to a large room filled to the brim with bodies.

Dancing bodies.

Writhing bodies.

Wren blinked slowly and coughed as embarrassment heated her face.