Page 42 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

The Fae can be remarkably complex. They are incapable of lying, but they have a talent for twisting their words to get exactly what they want. One must always tread carefully when making deals with the Fae.

You will lose.

Tabitha Wysteria

‘So, what’s your masterful plan then…?’ Arden asked dryly as they reached the very edge of the Forest of Endless Trees after days of travel.

With him by her side, navigating the tangled wilderness had seemed almost effortless, as if the forest itself had chosen not to hinder them.

Dressed in fresh clothes and with a warm meal settling in her belly, Wren felt almost invincible.

A dangerous illusion for someone like her, who had a knack for courting trouble.

‘Well… I’ve been thinking.’

‘That’s rarely a good sign. Why do you say it like that, as though even you know it’s a bad idea?’

‘I need to slip in undetected.’

‘Slip in where, exactly?’

Wren winced, her voice dropping into a murmur. ‘Da Kingdom of Fire. ’

‘You are mental.’

‘No, listen!’ she insisted, the words tumbling out quickly.

‘There’s someone that well, I thought she was a friend, though now I’m not so sure.

But I need to speak to her. If I can reach her, then perhaps…

’ The sentence trailed off, unfinished. Her so-called plan, flimsy at best, sounded laughable even to her own ears.

And yet, she had to try. Wren Wynter didn’t give up, not when it mattered.

Arden sighed the long, suffering sigh of a man who knew he should walk away but wouldn’t. ‘Very well then, little wolf. We’ll find a way to sneak you in… but not tonight. It’s late.’

For once, Wren didn’t argue—a rare and telling silence.

Of late, something inside her had shifted.

The brightness she’d once carried like a flame had dulled, hollowed by recent horrors.

The laughter came less easily now. Even when darkness had clawed at her heels before, she had always managed to keep her spark.

But now… she wasn’t sure who she was without it.

‘Just let it be,’ Arden said, crouching to light a fire, the kindling crackling under his touch.

Wren scrunched up her face and sat down, feeling the weight of it all.

‘You keep getting that look,’ Arden continued, tossing another branch into the growing flame.

‘Like the world doesn’t make sense anymore. I’ve seen it before. It’s all right.’

‘No. It’s not. Nothing is all right.’

He shrugged. ‘No one likes change. But it comes for us all.’

‘I don’t want to change.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘Becas I like who I am.’

Arden chuckled as he stood, brushing ash from his fingers.

‘Perhaps,’ he said, voice softening, ‘the moment you stop fearing the change, you’ll realise there was never anything to fear in the first place.

And then, little wolf, you might see the change wasn’t as great, or as terrible, as you thought. ’

Wren bit her lip, her focus lowering to her hands.

There was so much she wished she could say, but words felt too small.

All she could see, over and over, was the memory of Hagan snapping Haven’s neck.

Kage’s helpless expression. Mal, a phantom of fury and pain, entering the castle with death on her heels.

And Wren…Wren had done the only thing she knew how to do.

She ran.

‘Why are ya helping me?’ she asked suddenly, breaking the silence as Arden settled beside her. Her voice was quiet, vulnerable. ‘No one just drops everything for a stranger.’

Arden said nothing for so long that Wren began to wonder if he’d heard her at all.

He busied himself with his travel bag, sifting through its contents until he produced a modest assortment of provisions.

Selecting a curious yellow round and slightly dimpled fruit, he bit into it, the juice spilling carelessly down his chin.

Mid-chew, he paused and fixed his attention on her, and for a moment, Wren wished she could take the question back entirely.

Perhaps it was better not to know. He was here, after all.

He was helping her. That should have been enough.

But it wasn’t.

That restless part of her, the one that was always digging deeper, always seeking truth even when it hurt, refused to be quiet.

‘I like adventure. And the unknown,’ he said at last, with a nonchalant shrug, as though the words bore little weight.

Wren narrowed her eyes, not convinced. She didn’t know Arden well, not yet, but she had always possessed a sharp instinct for people, and the lie in his voice was as clear as dawnlight on snow.

Still, she said nothing. Pressing him too far might see him vanish into the trees, and the truth was, she couldn’t afford to lose him.

Whether she wanted to or not, she needed him.

‘I thought ya weren’t supposed to light fires in this forest,’ Wren said, her voice quiet, thoughtful.

Arden chuckled, the sound low and rich. ‘I like that you actually listen to me, little wolf. You’re quite right, it’s usually unwise to strike a flame beneath these trees.

But we’re on the very edge now.’ He shrugged, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his green eyes.

‘Besides, you needn’t fret. I’m a butcher, I know my way around blades. ’

‘I’m not worried,’ Wren replied, tilting her chin ever so slightly. ‘I’m not afraid of anything, Arden Briar.’

The Fae snorted, clearly unconvinced.

And yet, as Wren sat beside him, the firelight dancing across his antlers and casting sharp shadows across his face, she couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, he was right.

There was no need to fear what dwelled in the forest’s depths, because the most dangerous thing within it was already sitting beside her, smiling in the dark.

…

‘The city of Spark lies a few days’ journey from here,’ Arden said as they emerged from the shadows of the Forest of Endless Trees.

The woods had allowed them passage without resistance.

A small miracle, though Wren suspected it had less to do with mercy and more to do with the Fae at her side.

Arden’s presence, she had to admit, was proving invaluable.

Still, her thoughts wandered to Freya. Had the valkyrian reached her homeland at last?

‘Villages aren’t our best option,’ Wren said, eyes scanning the vast stretch of land ahead. ‘We’d be betta off slipping through a large city.’

‘We could head to the capital.’

‘Do ya think it’s fallen?’ Wren had shared the full tale with him of what had unfolded, what had been lost and still, it amazed her how so many walked the world blissfully unaware that an entire kingdom was on the brink of ruin.

‘We won’t know until we get there,’ Arden replied, voice unreadable.

Wren blew an errant strand of silver-white hair from her eyes, sighing in irritation. The road to Fireheart was long, and civilisation still lay many miles ahead.

‘You’re rather impatient, little wolf,’ Arden teased, watching her with a sidelong glance.

‘Am not,’ she snapped, marching ahead with renewed energy. ‘But a kingdom is burning.’

‘And we can’t walk any faster than our legs allow.’

‘Are ya certain?’ Wren frowned, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Don’t da Fae have magic?’

‘It doesn’t quite work like that,’ he said with a soft chuckle, clearly entertained. ‘Fae magic is... difficult to explain.’

‘I heard ya lot are tricksters.’

‘Oh?’ His green eyes sparked with something unreadable, concern perhaps, but it vanished beneath the lazy veil of amusement. ‘Is that what they say?’

‘They say Fae can’t lie, but ya twist da truth until it sings for ya. Always getting what ya want.’

‘Sounds rather like most people I’ve met,’ Arden replied smoothly.

Wren wrinkled her nose. ‘And how many of those weren’t Fae?’

He laughed. ‘I’ve travelled more than you might think.’

‘But ya work in da kitchens. Why would ya travel?’

‘A chef must chase new flavours,’ he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘King Florian has a fondness for my dishes. I roam on his behalf, finding new delights to... satisfy his palate.’

Another lie. Or perhaps a truth cloaked in riddles.

Fae couldn’t lie, not exactly, but they danced so artfully around the truth, it was difficult to spot the illusion until you’d already fallen into it.

Wren could ask. The questions were pressing at her lips.

But fear held her still. What if she didn’t like the answer?

The war came first. The witches and the kingdoms were what mattered now. She needed him. Whatever he was hiding... she would uncover it later.

‘Tell me a story, Arden Briar.’

‘A story?’ he echoed, one brow lifting with faint amusement.

‘I don’t usually care for them much,’ Wren admitted, folding her arms over her chest. ‘But me sistas do. And I—I need to feel a little closer to home today.’

Arden inclined his head, as though he understood more than she had said aloud. ‘Have you ever heard of the Black Lotus?’

Wren gave a slight nod, though her knowledge was threadbare at best. ‘They say… many years ago, a Fae prince fell in love with a peasant girl. He married her in secret, knowing his father—da king—would neva give his blessing. But when da king found out, he sent soldiers to find her. They dragged her from wherever she was hiding and killed her right in front of da prince. A lesson, they called it. But da prince… he neva forgave. He pretended to, kept smiling and bowing, but when da old king grew frail, da prince, now a king himself, unleashed da Black Lotus to make his father suffer. They say he’d been gathering orphans for years.

Children lost to da world, shaping them into something else. Servants of vengeance.’

Arden nodded slowly, chewing on the thought. ‘You know it well. That prince, once crowned, was no longer a man, nor truly Fae. Revenge had hollowed him out. The Black Lotus became his shadow, his unseen blade. And every king after him kept them close.’

Wren tilted her head, eyes wide with curiosity. ‘Has anyone eva seen one?’

‘They say they hide in plain sight,’ Arden said. ‘Always watching. Always waiting.’

‘But why are they feared so much?’

‘Because of how they’re made.’ A wry smile curved his lips, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Taken young. Broken. Their pasts stripped away, their minds shattered and rebuilt. They are remade into perfect killers, ones who feel nothing.’

Wren’s nose crinkled. ‘That’s awful. No one should be allowed to do that.’

Arden gave a noncommittal shrug. ‘Most of them were orphans. Left to rot. Some say it’s a mercy, better than starving on the streets.’

She frowned, thoughtful. ‘Maybe… but I don’t think so.’

‘Oh? And why’s that?’

‘No matter how bad things get,’ she said, her voice soft but resolute, ‘I’d still want to be free.’

For a glint of a moment, something passed through Arden’s eyes, something raw and haunted. He nodded, gaze drifting ahead as though searching for something far beyond the road in front of them.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Freedom… perhaps that’s what we all want, deep down.’

Wren didn’t think. Her hand moved of its own accord, brushing his lightly, a gesture meant to comfort, though she didn’t quite know why.

Perhaps it was the way his eyes had lowered, as if the weight of something unseen pressed heavily upon him.

She only knew that she didn’t want to see that sadness in his face.

‘Can I trust ya?’ she asked, her voice barely more than a breath so quiet that she wasn’t even sure she’d spoken aloud.

He looked at her then. Not just looked, saw her. His stare lingered a moment too long, lips parting into a smile that was charming, yes, but far too practiced. Beneath it, his jaw tightened subtly, but enough. Wren noticed.

He turned away. No answer. No words. But he had heard her.

And he had chosen silence.