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“If you come with me, Princess, your questions will be answered.” He gestured with his right arm toward a nearby ship. Wren stared at it, feeling stupid for having not noticed it the moment she ran into port.

It’s okay to be weak. It’s been a rough day.

She wiped at her face once more and pocketed the handkerchief, nodding at Gunn. He grinned and then turned on his heel, swaggering down the jetty like he owned the place. Wren exhaled heavily and looked down at Trove over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Quickly, Wren caught up with the pirate—a man who could very well be her brother—it was difficult to wrap her brain around that one. In silence, they made it to his ship, the waves lapping gently against the hull.

As they climbed aboard, she watched the carefree pirate with growing curiosity. “How do you know the prince? Have you been working with him since before Leif and I approached you?”

Gunn didn’t answer.

She rolled her eyes as he led her to the prow of the ship. The pirate gave her a jaunty little bow and backed away.

“Where in the blazes are you going?”

He laughed. “To my study. Now be patient and behave.”

“You behave, you cheeky devil,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Wren leaned her cheek against the rail, grateful for the rough wood beneath her red, swollen skin, and let out a heavy sigh. Today had not gone as she’d planned. Blast it all, the last few months hadn’t gone as she planned.

Her chest tightened as she thought of Rowen. She sank down, sitting on the deck. Since her capture, she’d held on to what they had to survive. But the fact that he’d been lying and using her from the beginning? It broke another piece of her heart.

“You’re always worried about something when I find you,” her husband said, his deep voice washing over her.

Wren didn’t look at Arrik as he dropped down to sit on the deck beside her. She caught movement from the corner of her eye as he stuck his booted feet between the rails to dangle his legs over the side of the ship.

“A penny for your thoughts, wife?”

“Why do you call me that?” she muttered. They weren’t truly married. They didn’t even like each other that much.

“Because that is what you are. What would you have me call you?”

“Wren.”

“Wren.”

The way he said her name was like a caress.

Wren could barely stand to look at him. Her chest constricted at his mere presence beside her. The smell of his sweat on the air mixed with spice. She needed a safer topic.

He nudged her with his shoulder. “What is wrong? Your face is blotchy.”

Lovely.

“How close do you think someone can get to breaking before they finally shatter into a thousand pieces?” she murmured, more to herself than to Arrik. She closed her eyes, still leaning on the railing as if it might ground her.

A strong breeze might be all it took to shatter her today.

“Tell me what happened, Wren. I find that talking things out helps me get my thoughts straight and levels my heart.”

She let out a dark chuckle. “I wasn’t aware you had one.”

“Just as well, because that comment would break it.”

She smirked and looked his way.