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Heat pressed to the back of her eyes as she entered the cocoon his body and tail created. Wren curled against the dragon’s warm belly, leaning her chest on his smooth scales, listening to his hearts beat.

“How did I get here?” she asked after a while. The crash of the waterfall was soothing, and loud enough to block out her thoughts and lull her toward drowsiness and the promise of sleep. “What has my life become? Why can’t I just—just run away for good?”

But Wren knew why.

So long as there were people she needed to protect—so long as her sister still lived, and her kingdom was valiantly fighting in her place against the Verlantians—Wren could not run. The thought had haunted her for months on end, taunting her, scaring her with how enticing it was, but Wren knew to run away was to surrender.

And a dragon never surrendered.

Trove purred, curling in tighter around her until Wren was suffused with heat.

But a dragon still had to sleep, so Wren slept.

29

WREN

Wren’s entire body ached when she woke the next morning in the cave just before sunrise.

She’d spent too long with the dragon. It was time to go home.

“Trove,” she murmured to the still-sleeping dragon, immediately alert and filled with urgency despite her fatigued muscles. “Trove, you must return me before I am noticed missing.”

The dragon huffed his dissatisfaction and cracked open an eye to look at her with disdain as if he loathed the mornings as much as she did.

“Please,” Wren whispered.

His other eye snapped open and the spines along his back rose, sensing her urgency. He heaved to his feet and ambled over to the waterfall and lapped at the small pool at the bottom. She followed him and drank from the crystal-clear water before clambering onto his back, right in front of his haunches. She once again grabbed the frills along his head and braced herself.

He spread his wings and launched through the waterfall.

Wren squeaked as the freezing water drenched her once again.

The sky in the east had just begun to color as they flew over the trees. She shivered, her teeth clacking together at the chill in the air. With winter on the horizon, Verlanti was finally beginning to cool down. It was to her advantage that it was getting later in the year, for the sky was dark and the grounds around Lord Idril’s castle empty when they arrived.

She scanned the castle, noting a large fire where several guards were warming themselves, completely ignorant to her arrival. She hated the wind but was thankful for the sound cover it provided. Trove flew lower and hovered by Wren’s window.

This was where it got tricky.

She slowly climbed to her feet and balanced on his back. Wren prepared herself and dove for her window. She cleared the balcony and rolled to her feet. Her heart pounded in her chest and she spun around with a grin. It wasn’t her best dismount but at least she hadn’t lost all of her skills.

“Thank you,” she said to Trove, leaning out her window to caress his neck. She kissed his snout when he pressed closer. “Now I know it is useless to chase you away, I shall be sure to ask for your help or company the next time I need it.” She chirped softly to him in farewell and stepped back.

Trove trilled in assent, then retreated from the window and flew across the forest at breakneck speeds. She watched him until he disappeared from sight.

A shiver wracked her body.

It was bloody cold.

Wren stripped out of her wet nightgown and wrung it out over the balcony before hanging it over the edge to dry. She tiptoed to the bed and yanked the coverlet around her shaking body. The blanket was freezing to the touch, and the fire in her hearth had burned down to mere embers.

Lovely.

You only have yourself to blame.

It had been worth it.

She rubbed the blanket against her arms to create friction and heat. In no time she’d warmed up enough to put on new clothes and somewhat dry her hair. Her eyes burned from fatigue as she climbed back in bed.