Page 5

Time to go. The bounty on her head was enough to tempt anyone.

“Look after Lillia,” Wren said, smiling sadly at the girl. “Look after her the way I wish I could still look after my family.”

The woman’s eyes grew even wider. “You can count—”

Wren held a finger to her lips. “Can I trust you?”

The woman took one look at her daughter, safe from harm, and the coins in her hand that would feed them for months and nodded. “Of course. You are truly good and brave, Pr—”

“Call me Sparrow,” Wren cut in, winking as she got back to her feet.

The woman wrinkled her nose at the joke. “Sparrow. My name is Francesca. I hope you do not forget us, as we will not forget you.”

At this Wren laughed. “You are the kindest Verlantians I have met by far. Trust me, I will not forget you.”

“Leave now. The watch should be sweeping through this part of town in the next half hour,” the woman cautioned.

“Thank you.” Wren gave the pair a small smile.

And with that, Wren left the mother and daughter, careful to take a completely different, winding path away from their hovel to truly ensure she was not being followed. She glanced up at the sky and scowled. More time had passed than she would have liked. Wren had to make her way back to camp as quickly as possible, and was in no way looking forward to the lecture Bram would inevitably give her on why her actions were dangerous, selfish, and wrong.

But she couldn’t feel bad about helping Lillia and her mother. If faced with the situation again, she’d make the same decision twice.

Arrik was renowned for spreading death and destruction in the name of his father, King Soren, no matter how he’d tried to appeal to Wren to work with him. She was determined to atone for each of her husband’s crimes against humanity, one good deed at a time. If her existence could negate Arrik’s, then Wren knew she was doing something right with her life, even if she was half a world away from the life she longed to live.

She could handle a stupid lecture from Bram.

3

ARRIK

Of all the tasks in the world that Arrik did not wish to do, retrieving his younger brother from an opium den was all the way at the bottom of the list.

Kalles had spent much of his time in drug houses ever since Princess Wren escaped and the Verlantian palace fell into disarray. Kalles was avoiding him, Arrik was convinced, but this time Kalles had taken things too far. His brother seemed to purposely visit the most obscure, out-of-the-way drug den he could possibly find. It was bloody inconvenient.

It also just so happened to be one of the most depraved and opulent opium dens in the entire kingdom.

Kray’s Village was not a place Arrik ever enjoyed finding himself in. Why did his brother have to be such a pain? Kalles knew Soren would send Arrik after him, and it was never a pretty affair. So why did he continue on with the same song and dance at every turn?

Addiction is not reasonable. You should know that.

Arrik shoved the thought away as he wound his way through the village—which had been set up within the forest specifically with the purpose of propping up the illicit activities of highborn degenerates with too much money and too few morals—Arrik made sure to maintain his haughty mask. It would not do for anyone who frequented the village to see how much of an effect the place had on him. Arrik felt like his skin was crawling, as if being in this place, standing here, looking at it, breathing its air, was enough to corrupt and sully his soul.

Or rip it apart with old memories.

Given the despicable things Arrik had done in his life, that was saying something.

All you need to do is retrieve Kalles and get the blazes out of here.

He exhaled through his nose and forced himself forward, mask in place, footsteps heavy with purpose as he marched toward the opium den.

And then stay by his side until he’s sobered up. After that…

After that, Arrik would question his younger brother about the fact he’d given Wren a knife during their wedding celebrations and told her he’d killed his brides before they could spend a single night together. Like all of Arrik’s brothers, Kalles liked to play games, but this was out of character for the young prince. While he didn’t have the best of relationships with any of his half-brothers, he and Kalles had maintained an uneasy truce the longest. And despite Arrik’s best efforts to never let anything affect him anymore, it bothered him that his brother had acted in such a way.

If Wren hadn’t been so weak that night, Arrik was not certain he would have come out of her attack unscathed. As it was, after weeks of imprisonment in the bowels of his warship, there had been hardly any strength left in her muscles with which to attack him. But if the warrior princess had been at full health—the way Arrik had first spied her, a fiery blaze upon the back of a glittering dragon, taut and furious in battle—with a knife in her hand and him unsuspecting of this fact, Wren would have killed him, or at least wounded him grievously.

She had no idea how good it was for the both of them that she had failed. Soren was becoming more unhinged by the day. For some reason he was hyperfocused on Wren.