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“Don’t leave,” he pleaded. “Please.”

She shook her head and spun on her heel, leaving without another word.

“I love you,” he called after her.

One tear dripped down Wren’s cheek.

His love was a lie.

She rushed down the stairs, leaving the stranger she’d once so desperately loved in a small room alone with part of her broken heart.

31

WREN

Wren raced down the stairs.

Rowen was alive. Alive.

And he’d been playing her from the beginning.

You still care for him.

Angry tears tracked down Wren’s cheeks and she slipped, letting out a little scream. She clawed at the wall and caught her balance, heart pounding as she swiped at her traitorous tears, and hiccupped as she heard the telltale sound of someone coming down the staircase.

Rowen no doubt.

If he grabbed her and begged for her to stay and talk—if he embraced her, if he kissed her—then her fury was sure to dissolve as easily as seafoam. But she didn’twanther rage to dissipate.

Her entire life had been controlled and dictated by everyone but her. She was tired of it. Sick of being manipulated. Wren pushed away from the wall and started her descent once again. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed out.

Her footsteps rang through the quiet temple as she sprinted for the door, heart in her throat. Her mind shut down as she inhaled the clean air of Othos and entered the mass of people flowing through the streets.

Before she knew it, she had stolen through the streets of Othos toward their port. It wasn’t as large as the capital city’s port, nor as chaotic as Delansh, but it was still large and sprawling. The sound of the waves lapping against the docks soothed some of the ache within her soul. The ocean had always been a balm for her wounds.

Workers, fishermen, merchants, and sailors moved freely between ships—like ants on a log. It would be easy to get lost within the madness.

To hide away from everyone who would be looking for her.

Wren shoved her hands into her pockets as she decided which direction to go. Her right hand curled over the cool loose black diamonds from the mask Arrik had gifted her. Thank the stars for her good sense in packing them and that her aunt had returned Wren’s weapons.

Time to find a friend who could help.

She crept from pier to pier on the lookout for a quiet place to gather her thoughts and hum a gentle song.

To summon a dragon.

She spied an abandoned, dilapidated pier and made for the end of it. She carefully walked down the length of it, making sure to avoid the potholes along the way. Once she reached the end, she closed her eyes and began to sing. Pain along with loneliness and betrayal turned the melody sad and broken. It was a lament.

Wren didn’t know when her eyes had closed, but she opened them slowly. The water rippled gentle below her. It didn’t take long for Wren to recognize the dragon lurking beneath the surface. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the area. Luckily, because it was now late morning and the fish market had long since packed up, the port wasn’t nearly as busy as it could have been. Nobody spared a moment for the lone person at the end of the pier. A drunk swayed and plopped himself at the entrance of the dock, his legs dangling over the edge of the sea.

Wren turned back to Trove, admiring how his scales shone beneath the waves. “Hello, friend,” she murmured.

The dragon stayed beneath the waves watching her with fathomless eyes.

Here was her escape. She didn’t need anyone else but her sister, Clara, and Leif.

A melancholy smile curled her lips as she reached over the wooden banister of the jetty, ready to abandon everything, fly back to Britta and—