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“That’s not true! We would never treat people the way Vadon does. Plus, we would never sanction slavery. Vadon deals in slavery as much as Verlanti. What makes them worse is the opium trade. I refuse to let them have free rein to spread their poison.”

“Do not say that,” Vienne said, pointing a finger at Wren. “You’ve grown up on horror stories and know nothing of the real world. Vadon isn’t as bad as you think. This union is to be celebrated. Many lives will be saved.”

“I will not abide the Dragon Isles being used as abargaining chipfor another nation seeking to use our geographic position and our navy as a means to transport slaves across the sea!” Her parents would’ve never allowed such a thing. Wren wouldn’t let their legacy be tainted by anyone.

“Wren—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Wren exploded. This was it; she’d had it. “Do you mean to tell me that your wonderful solution is for us to trade one tyrant for another? Soren for Idril, then Idril for—for—for whoever Vadon decides to represent them! I won’t stand around and agree to this!” She glared at her aunt. “My mother would beashamedof you.”

Her aunt took a step toward her, but Wren backed away for the door. “You will agree with this if you would only stay and listen to what they have to say. Don’t be rash.”

“Theycan say whatever they damn well please. I won’t be around to listen.”

Enough was enough.

Wren turned around, yanked open the door, and walked straight into a body.

She stumbled back as the man clutched her biceps to keep her from falling.

“Sorry,” she muttered, and then frowned at the hands that were holding her. They were familiar. Too familiar.

Her gaze darted to his swarthy face and her breath hitched.

A face that had been bloody and broken, plaguing her nightmares and her waking moments.

Rowen.

Rowen was standing there before her very eyes.

30

WREN

Impossible.

She began to shake, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Not now. Not today.

Had she finally lost her mind?

Wren forced herself to face the truth and opened her eyes.

Rowen still stood before her.

Wren couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She’d spent the last few weeks convincing herself that whenever she hadseen Rowen it had been her mind playing tricks on her. But here he was, solid and unyielding beneath Wren’s fingertips.

“Please tell me you’re real,” she whispered, terrified her words would make him disappear. She crept her trembling fingers from Rowen’s chest to his face just as her eyes found his. Soft, dark, fond eyes.

“It’s me,” he soothed, squeezing her tightly. “I’m real. I’ve missed you more than you could possibly know.”

Her knees buckled, but then Rowen’s powerful arms encircled her and held her close.

Protecting her. Supporting her.

Wren cracked.

Ugly sobs wracked her body, making a mess of Rowen’s lovely tunic as she clung to him. It was part relief and disbelief. Relief that she hadn’t descended into madness, and disbelief that her best friend stood before her alive.