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Idril was just guessing.

Sheathing his dagger—Idril breathed out a small sigh of relief—Arrik said, “I happen to think it would be far more beneficial for the both of us for me to threaten you into doing whatIwant, rather than what my father wants.”

“I knew I had a comrade in arms,” Idril said, a glint in his eye. “What would you have me do, in order to save me from our dear king’s wrath?”

“That remains to be seen. Consider it a debt to be repaid at a time I so wish.”

Arrik so loved favors.

Idril nodded. “Consider it done with thanks. Will you stay the night? You must have traveled without sleep, if the shadows on your face are anything to go by. Let me—”

“I’d rather sleep with a pit of vipers if it’s all the same to you,” Arrik threw back, already on his way back to the door. He turned to point at the gash on Idril’s cheek. “Though by the looks of things, your castleisa pit of vipers.”

“You have no idea,” Idril drawled as Arrik strode down the stone hallway.

He eyed the half-dressed servant who kept her eyes downcast. She even cringed into the walls as he passed. It disgusted him. No one should have that power over someone.

He ran over the interaction with Idril.

That went better than I thought it would.

He headed for the servants’ entrance to the castle in order to make as discreet an exit as possible—and to snoop. He found that the servants were always happy to throw away seemingly innocuous scraps of gossip in exchange for a few coins.

He paused as he reached the corridor, catching a flash of red creeping toward the servants’ entrance that most definitely did not belong to the lit torches on the wall. Several bodies all dressed in the same gauzy material followed the flash.

Arrik froze where he stood. He knew that flaming head of hair anywhere. The set of those shoulders. The curves of her body.

His wife.

Wrenwas sneaking out of Lord Idril’s castle…with what appeared to be most of his slaves. When she cast a furtive glance left and right, she caught sight of Arrik lurking in the shadows and she, similarly, froze to the spot.

He could do nothing but stare at her staring at him. Just what was he supposed to do in this situation? Help her out? Drag her off?

He liked the idea of the last one.

But then he heard Lord Idril calling his name and Arrik’s decision was made for him.

Time to grab his little wife so they could have a chat.

23

WREN

The plan had started out well.

Toowell.

Wren and Leif had managed to convince most of the slaves to escape, and the ones who had chosen to remain behind swore not to tell a soul what had transpired. Leif was waiting on the outside to take the slaves to the closest port town, where he had assured Wren that Gunn would be waiting to transport them back to their respective homelands.

All Wren had to do was get the slaves out of the castle.

It had been a harrowing escape, with added stress from the fact that she was half carrying her cousin. Clara was lost to opium, her eyes glassy and blank, but at least she could walk. Sort of.

Their group had almost been caught by Lord Idril’s guards when she’d liberated them from their cramped communal quarters and chains, but luck had been on their side. Everyone in the house was either inebriated or high. When a wavering man stumbled into the hall, spotting their procession, he’d only laughed and then promptly passed out.

Wren managed to sneak the frightened men, women, and children away toward the servants’ entrance to the castle.

But their luck had run out.