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Wren knew she had mere seconds to decide what to do. She could risk being hauled to the palace to be humiliated by Soren had been all part of Arrik’s convoluted plan… or she could run.

It wasn’t even a decision.

Though Wren had no weapon—the Vadonese dagger had been taken from her the moment the captain of the guard pulled her from the water—Wren was a savvy enough fighter to elbow the guard who still held her squarely in the face, then in the groin. His hold on Wren loosened, and she wrenched away to struggle toward the door.

ForgetArrik. Forget all of this. All Verlantians are vipers.

But soldiers began blocking the door in order to keep the hysteria of the room at bay, so Wren careened to her left to escape through a window. The throne room was on the ground floor; there would be no drop for her to brace herself for.

Jump out and run, run, run.

A burly pair of arms curled around Wren and wrenched her away from the window when she was within touching distance of the frame. “Let me go!” she growled, kicking and clawing and screaming at Shane, Arrik’s second-in-command. The dark elf tightened his grip before hauling her over his shoulder. She pounded her fist on his back and yanked at his black hair.

“Let me—” she drew up short as they passed the throne and its fallen king.

Wren caught Arrik’s eye and all noise ceased to exist.

He, alone, remained motionless and blank against the chaos swirling around him. His face was hard, haughty, alien, even as he stared Wren down.

This was the Beast of the Barbarians.

This was the Dark Elf Conquer.

That was herhusband.

Just when had Wren grown used to seeing him gaze at her with tenderness and laughter on his lips?

Everything was lies.

“Don’t do this,” she yelled.

He didn’t react.

Arrik looked every inch the stranger to her now, though by all accounts he was unchanged from the day Wren first had the displeasure of meeting him.

Heat pressed at the back of her eyes, but she didn’t let the tears fall. He didn’t deserve them.

It was as if everything that had happened between them never existed. That Wren had made it all up in her head.

“I won’t forgive you a second time,” she mouthed.

There is was. The smallest twitch of his lips downward.

Then Arrik dismissed her and turned to the queen.

So this was how it was to go.

The palace blurred by until Shane kicked open the doors to a familiar chamber.

Arrik’s rooms.

Shane stormed across the room and dropped Wren unceremoniously onto her husband’s bed and backed away.

He wasn’t getting away that quickly.

She was quick to scramble after him to try to tackle him to the ground, her feet slipping on the marble floor.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said gruffly, sharp eyes scrutinizing Wren as she sank into a defensive position.