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“You asked me to take care of him and I did.” He was pushing his sire’s temper if he judged how Soren’s eyes flared.

“How do you figure that?” the king snapped.

“I sent the queen to him.” A calculated risk.

His father stilled, like a serpent before it strikes. “And?”

“Idril took the bait. Within weeks, Astrid will own the slave trade and the elf lord will believe it was all his idea. None of his sycophants will try to rise up against the queen. You will own his trade without a civil war through your lovely wife.”

The idea had come to Arrik as soon as Soren had sent him to take care of Idril. It would have been easy to kill him as the king expected, or to expose him for his dealings with the rebellion, but neither suited Arrik. He needed to distract the queen with a new conquest andto keephis sire happy with the outcome.

It was perfect.

The king slowly smiled. “You are a clever fox, my son. And my wife? How did you get her to agree?”

“I didn’t. I just mentioned that you were unhappy with his murmurings and that I’d be dealing with him soon. I arrived first and put him on edge, then all I had to do was wait. My queen swooped in afterward as I expected, and insinuated herself into his business. You and I both know that she likes to collect valuable things.”

Soren chuckled, the sound sinister. “That she does.” He began walking forward once again and Arrik followed suit. “It seems I shouldn’t have been planning your punishment but your exultation. What do you wish for?”

“Nothing. I am content serving as your shield.” Another lie. He’d be much more, but not because his sire deigned to give it to him. But by his own merits.

“Such modesty. Maybe I’ll find you another wife if yours never shows up.”

A backhanded compliment veiled as a threat?

Arrik’s jaw tightened. “My men are close. I’ll have the dragon princess within my grasp in a few days.” How would his father react when he saw Wren in a few short hours?

“Good. She’s stirred up too much trouble. It’s your job to break her before you return to the isles. We need her to control the people. She’s the key.”

Wren was the key. Just not Soren’s key.

His.

27

WREN

It was easier than Wren had thought it would be to sneak away from the rebellion to get ready for the masked ball and spirit away into the forest. She had a servant slip her something at lunch that made it appear as if she had food poisoning, which was sufficient for Vienne and Idril. They’d sent Wren to her room to be left well alone until at least the next morning. After vomiting up the drug, Wren easily recovered.

Arrik had sent Josenu upon horseback to collect her from the forest just before sundown, a starlight-colored mare waiting for Wren to ride to the ball. In any other circumstance, Wren would have found it highly amusing to be riding a horse dressed in such splendor.

Josenu blinked slowly as she approached him, his eyes running down her frame. “You look stunning.” A pause. “Although not very suitable for a ride, no?”

Wren gave him a wry smile. “My thoughts exactly.” She gestured to the gauzy train of her dress. “Not sure how I’m supposed to get on the horse in the first place with all of this.”

The spy grinned and beckoned Wren to his side. He whispered to the mare and the majestic animal gently folded its front legs until it was lying on the ground. Josenu held his hand out and helped Wren to settle. Her bare thighs clamped against the horse as it stood back up. Wren ran her hand along the mare’s neck and crooned softly.

Josenu gathered up the train of Wren’s dress and haphazardly tucked it around her. He grimaced. “That will have to do.” He strode over to his own mount and swung into the saddle. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Her fingers tightened on the reins and she nudged the mare forward. They reached a road and they began trotting. Her dress slowly slipped out of its confines and waved in the breeze behind her.

It had been a long time since she’d ridden a horse. It was jarring compared to a dragon. Wren laughed, imagining that she looked like the mistress of death with a liquid black dress and riding upon a pale horse.

Josenu broke to the left, taking a small trail through the woods. Wren followed him.

Rowen would have gotten a kick out of this.

Her chest tightened. He had always been more adventurous than Wren. She hadn’t seen his ghost since Delansh. Clearly she had imagined him, otherwise she was sure she would have spied him again.