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“No time for pleasantries.” Vienne pulled her niece in to sit upon the bed. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Queen Astrid is expected tonight.”

Wren nodded.

“Then you must know that you have to stay in here tonight. We can’t afford for her to see you. She’ll recognize you and it will put everything we’ve set in motion in danger.”

Wren merely nodded again. “Of course. I’ve learned my lesson that going off on my own helps nobody.” Her face still hurt from the last time she’d stepped out of line.

Relieved, Vienne squeezed Wren’s hand before moving to the door. Her aunt paused and peered over her shoulder. “Much hinges on your obedience. Can I trust you?”

“Yes. But can I trust you?”

Her aunt jerked back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Wren stared down Vienne. “You know what I mean. Did you know?”

“About what?”

“Stop playing coy. Did you know that Idril was my sire?” The words were bitter upon her tongue.

Vienne seemed to deflate a little bit. “I did.”

“So you knew and yet you let me walk into this place to be ambushed by that degenerate?”

“I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew.”

As if that made things even better. “You are despicable.”

Her aunt lifted her chin. “Just because you share blood doesn’t mean a bloody thing. Plus, what I’ve done is in the best interest of all the people, not just you.”

“Duly noted.” Vienne was not to be trusted. Wren crossed her arms and nodded at the door. “Get out. I can’t even look at you.”

Vienne hesitated. “You will stay here?”

“Yes. Now be gone.”

Vienne nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind her without another word.

Wren stared at the exit. Her aunt hadn’t even apologized. No wonder Ever was so angry being here. Vienne cared only about her plans and no one else.

She exhaled heavily and focused on her plan. It had been easy to lie to her aunt.

Too easy.

Wren wouldn’t blow things up like she’d done before. But there was no way she’d sit in her room when she could listen in on what was being said between the queen and Idril.

It was a good thing Leif had taught her a thing or two about disguises and subterfuge.

25

WREN

Wren adjusted her wig—the same she’d worn to sneak into the gentleman’s club several weeks before—and scanned the room. It was amazing what a change in hair color could do to one’s look. She’d been tempted to toss it, but Leif had convinced her to keep it with her belongings, warning that a person never knew when they’d need a good disguise, even among allies.

She was thankful for his forethought. No one had recognized her.

Wren ran her hands along the front of her uniform that one of the slaves had gifted her. All traces of the Dragon Princess had disappeared, leaving a dark-haired servant in her place. She adjusted the golden veil that covered her eyes.

The servants always wore veils in Lord Idril’s residence when he held revels; it helped to set them aside from the slaves on “offer” for guests. She was supremely grateful for this. Otherwise, sneaking into the party unnoticed would have been a lot more difficult. Not impossible, but not fun either.