Page 28 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

I’ve asked Hades whether he’s the only god who visits us. Surely he can’t be. If he walks among mortals, why wouldn’t the others? Yet every time I ask, his expression turns blank. He never responds.

I don’t think he realises that his silence is an answer in itself.

Tabitha Wysteria

Wren and Freya had stopped at the very edge of the Forest of Endless Trees, hesitating only briefly before stepping into its shadowy embrace.

After some quiet deliberation, they had ventured forward, guided by instinct more than certainty.

Wren no longer knew how long they had been wandering.

Hours? Days? Time inside the forest moved strangely, like it had slipped through their fingers and vanished altogether.

The forest itself was like something pulled from the pages of an ancient tale.

Trees towered high above them, taller than the spires of any castle Wren had ever seen, their canopies thick enough to steal the light from the sky.

Enormous flowers bloomed in every hue imaginable, so vast and soft they looked fit to cradle sleeping gods.

And the creatures... gods above, the creatures.

Wren had never even heard of such things.

They stumbled across a hidden lake, its surface shimmering with the brilliance of starlight, a cascade pouring in from above with water so clear it might have held pearls.

Perhaps it did. Still, Wren’s thoughts swirled in a haze.

She was sure she had a purpose, a reason for being here, but no matter how she tried to grasp it, the thought slipped from her like mist.

‘Get in the water, Wren,’ Freya said, shrugging off her heavy coats and furs. ‘It’ll clear your head.’

Wren narrowed her eyes. How did Freya know that? Had she been here before? But somehow, it didn’t seem to matter, not when the water sparkled like liquid moonlight, calling to her.

With a sudden urgency, Wren tore off her clothes and dove beneath the surface. The warmth of the water embraced her like a memory, like her mother’s arms once had. The thought was enough to steal her breath. She surfaced with a sharp gasp, and just like that, the fog in her mind lifted.

Before she could speak, a sharp crack echoed in the distance, branches breaking beneath weight. Her instincts sharpened in an instant.

‘Stay here,’ she told Freya as she stepped from the water, ignoring her state of undress.

She snatched up her dagger from the pile of discarded clothes and slipped into the trees, following the sound with quiet purpose.

It came from behind a cluster of orange-leafed bushes.

Likely some poor beast tangled in the undergrowth.

Unlucky for it, but a stroke of fortune for her. They hadn’t eaten in hours.

Wren licked her lips, poised to strike.

The rustling intensified. With a burst of energy, she lunged through the foliage, arm raised to deliver a swift end.

She collided with something solid. Warm. Alive.

The breath was knocked from her lungs as she landed, tangled atop a body.

A male body.

Wren screamed.

The stranger’s hand caught her wrist mid-strike, green eyes wide in shock, then wider still as he registered her lack of clothing.

‘You’re naked!’ he shouted, his voice rising in disbelieving horror. ‘Get off!’

With an indignant yelp, he shoved her off, and she hit the ground with a thud, legs splayed gracelessly, her dignity dashed alongside her breath.

‘Oof!’ she grunted, seething. His face loomed above hers.

‘Are you completely mental?’ he demanded, frowning. ‘Why in nature’s hand are you naked?’

‘If it bothers ya so much, stop staring!’ she snapped, scooping up a fistful of dirt and flinging it at him. He laughed, actually laughed, then reached to help her up.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she barked, slapping his hands away.

At last, both on their feet, Wren looked up properly, and gasped.

‘Ya… Yer a Fae.’

‘What?’

‘Fae.’

‘I gathered that bit… what’s a yer?’

Wren sighed, her patience fraying. ‘Me name’s Wren Wynter.’

‘Don’t you mean my?’

‘My what?’

He rubbed his temples as if trying to ward off an oncoming headache. ‘Never mind. You must be a wolverian.’

Wren bristled. ‘ Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?’

The stranger gave a casual shrug. ‘Everyone knows wolverians speak funny.’

Wren’s vision flashed crimson. She lunged forward, ready to land a satisfying blow, but he caught her wrist again with infuriating ease. The chuckle he released was the last straw.

‘Woah, easy there. You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?’

‘Let go, ya stupid oaf!’

His face edged closer, amusement glinting in those infuriating green eyes, until a flicker of realisation crossed his features.

His gaze dropped slowly, almost deliberately, reminding them both she was still completely and utterly bare.

Wren’s cheeks burnt as he glanced back up, grin stretching wide across his face.

He released her so suddenly she toppled backwards with a thump.

He crouched beside her, still somehow managing to tower over her. Wren, now scowling, remained still and studied him properly for the first time.

His skin was dark, his features sharp and curious.

She’d only ever seen skin so dark back in the drakonian courts, and next to her own pale wolverian complexion, the contrast was striking.

His black curls were cropped short, but intricate braids pulled the longer pieces back into a loose knot.

Then there were the antlers—tall, curved, unmistakably Fae.

‘Do you like what you see?’ he whispered, voice low with mischief.

Wren muttered a curse under her breath, shoved him out of her way, and bolted.

‘Hey, wait!’

She didn’t stop, pushing through the thickets with a frantic determination, convinced she was heading back towards the lake. Yet something was wrong. The orange-leaved bushes she remembered had vanished, and the forest refused to yield the lake's familiar glimmer .

She stopped. Turned. Nothing.

‘Wait, hold on!’ His voice rang behind her as he gave chase, but she pressed on blindly, until her legs threatened to give way beneath her.

Panting, she bent over, hands on her knees, gulping at the heavy air. He arrived just moments after, and she shot upright, scrambling to shield herself once more.

‘Oh, here.’ He slid a satchel from his back, rummaging through until he pulled out a long jacket woven from green-brown leaves. He offered it to her, uncertain. ‘It goes through the arms…’

‘I know how a jacket works,’ she snapped, snatching it from him.

He raised both hands in mock surrender. ‘Sorry. Wasn’t sure if wolverians had such things.’

‘We live in da north, surrounded by snow,’ she grumbled. ‘What do ya think we wear?’

‘So… the naked thing isn’t, like, traditional…?’

She was sorely tempted to throw the jacket in his smug face. Instead, she slipped it on with as much dignity as one could muster in the depths of a bewitched forest. It engulfed her completely, the hem trailing behind as though it belonged to him, which of course, it did.

‘I take it thank you isn’t part of the wolverian tongue either,’ he muttered as Wren stomped ahead without a glance back.

‘Where am I?’ she asked, casting her gaze skywards. ‘There was a lake here not a moment ago. Now it’s vanished.’

‘The forest shifts if you’re not Fae,’ he said, nibbling on his lower lip and lifting his brows with exaggerated wisdom. ‘But lucky for you, I am.’

‘Aye...’ Wren tried not to grimace. She pointed the tip of her knife towards his face, her stare unflinching. ‘No funny business.’

‘None whatsoever. Cross my heart.’ He placed a hand to his chest, his smile wide enough to rival the rising sun and twice as smug.

‘What’s yer name?’ she asked, slipping the blade into the pocket of the oversized jacket for safekeeping.

‘And why do you want to know?’

Wren huffed, thoroughly unimpressed. ‘So yer happy to play hero, but won’t tell me yer bloody name?’

He laughed, the sound rich and bright. ‘Arden Briar,’ he said, before pausing theatrically. ‘Sorry, you probably didn’t catch that. Me name is Arden Briar.’

Wren bit her tongue to keep from shouting several unpleasant things, which only made him laugh harder.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘Back to Floridia.’

‘No! Ya need to take me to da lake. I left me friend there.’

Arden’s eyebrows rose. ‘And why would you do something so daft?’

‘Becas I heard ya rustling about in da bushes.’

‘I was picking berries.’ He blinked. ‘Well, if she’s still there, she’s probably lost to the forest now. So... let’s be on our way. I’m starving.’

‘No, no, absolutely not . Listen to me, ya overgrown leaf-sniffer. Take me back to that lake right now, or I’ll walk da rest meself!’

Arden tilted his head, considering her. Then he gave a casual shrug. ‘All right then. Best of luck.’

He turned sharply and disappeared behind a tangle of trees, leaving Wren spluttering in disbelief. When she rushed after him, he had vanished. With a frustrated cry, Wren clutched her hair and stomped forward, determined to retrace her steps alone .

Nightfall crept in on padded feet, and still there was no sign of Freya.

Refusing to lose hope, Wren gathered branches and kindling to build a fire.

Perhaps the light would guide her friend through the shifting wood.

Once the flames danced, and the realisation struck that she had nothing at all to eat, she pulled her knees close and hugged them tight, the night pressing in around her like a cold hand.

‘Are you mad?’

Wren shrieked and spun round, only to find Arden Briar looming behind her, a scowl carved deep into his face.

‘Am I mad?’ she shouted. ‘Don’t sneak up on people like that, ya idiot!’

‘You don’t light a fire in the Forest of Endless Trees unless you fancy being someone’s supper.’ He strode forward and kicked earth over the fire, smothering the flame. Wren leapt up and tried to stop him.

‘Me friend won’t find me now! And it’s nearly dark!’