Page 46

He suppressed a smirk. It only worked in his favor.

His bride needed another unexpected visit.

“Done,” he said, inclining his head at his father. “I’ll leave at once.”

“And, Arrik…” Soren added, when he was halfway toward the door and basking in the livid expression on Cathal’s face at him having been given such an important mission. “…find that wife of yours.”

“It shouldn’t be long.”

“I hope that’s the case. Deal with Idril, grab the wench by her pretty red hair, and drag her with you to the Dragon Isles. I need Lorne under control…by any means necessary.”

Arrik knew what that meant. Torture Wren to break her, or torture her people in front of her—and don’t leave her any option but to serve Verlanti in bringing Lorne to heel. He knew by now of course thatnothingcould break Wren. After all, Arrik had already taken everything from her and still she fought him.

Heat curled in his lower belly.

Which was why she was the perfect equal to him, and why Wren was so imperative in Arrik’s plans.

Cathal laughed uproariously as Arrik left, his previous anger overwritten in the face of their father’s threat. Arrik would have loved nothing better than to run a sword through his brother’s contemptuous face, but he knew there would be a time and place for that.

Just not today.

Too bad.

He returned to his chambers and closed the door behind him, sensing a familiar presence. Arrik was not surprised to find Ronan, his third-in-command, waiting for him. The burly auburn-haired man stood to attention when he caught sight of Arrik, then relaxed into the corner chair when Arrik waved him off. Looking at his face, he could tell Ronan was exhausted. Beneath his beard and freckles, his skin was ashen.

Not surprising, since he’d had entrusted Ronan with tailing Queen Astrid over the last few days.

“I take it you have news?” Arrik asked, collapsing onto his bed with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He, too, was supremely tired. Ronan, along with Shane and Josenu, were the only people he trusted enough to ever show his fatigue.

And Wren.

Ronan huffed in confirmation. “She visited a few friends—nothing special, the usual revels. The normal indiscretions.”

Arrik sneered, remembering her proposition. The woman made him sick. “But then…?”

“She traveled to Delansh. In disguise.”

“Delansh?” Arrik swung upright, fatigue chased away by curiosity. “And what exactly is in Delansh?” The pirate city had been the last public place Wren had been seen. Where she’d been chased through the streets by a reward-hungry mob but had somehow still escaped.

Ronan smiled grimly. “She met with a pirate by the name of Gunn. I couldn’t make out what they discussed though, without giving myself up.”

Gunn. Was the pirate giving Wren up? Or the rebellion?

“I can work with that for now.” He sighed and waved a hand toward the door. “Go get some rest, Ronan. You can start tailing her again in two days. And my thanks.”

“Next time you want someone to spend four sleepless days tailing the queen, might I suggest sending someone far spryer than me?” his friend complained.

Arrik barked out a laugh. “You’re twenty-four, Ronan. Same age as me. We are hardly in our graves.” Although sometimes he felt twice his age. Growing up in Soren’s court made one grow up quickly.

“Yet I can feel it in my back,” Ronan teased good-naturedly, cracking his spine as he stood and made for the door. “The rebellion has some truly acrobatic spies in their midst. I think we had one of them locked up in the dungeon, actually—the one who escaped with the Dragon Princess. You should lure him over to your side.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure my natural charm will convince them to work with me. Go get some sleep, you wretch.”

Arrik watched as his friend left. The door closed with a quiet click, and he stared out at the plants that secluded his bath, mulling over what Ronan had told him. He ran a hand over his eyes. He needed more people at his disposal whom he trusted. The problem was that Soren and Astrid and his brothers had everyone else in their pockets. Gold, power, and secrets were currency. While Arrik was a collector of secrets, his family always seemed to get the upper hand with the promise of higher social standing, riches, sexual favors, or the promise of complete and utter ruin.

But not for long. He held the key.

Wren.