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CHAPTER TWELVE

WREN

“ S omething doesn’t feel right.” Wren pitched his voice low and Skye looked at him in surprise.

Their footsteps were soft as they walked through the forest, petrichor filling their senses.

Not long after their impromptu archery session, the sky had darkened and the air became heavy and then the heavens opened.

The smell of the rain and damp earth was soothing, clarifying, and Wren breathed it in deeply as they walked their usual route through the trees.

“What do you mean?” The concern in Skye’s eyes was cold, assessing, and Wren fought back a grimace. Skye looked ready to face a legion of assassins, but this enemy was far less tangible.

The forest floor gave beneath Wren’s feet as he walked, soft from the heavy rainfall, and mud covered their boots before long.

“I mean exactly what I said, something just doesn’t feel right.

” He had deliberately waited until he and Skye were alone to have this conversation, not wanting Gabriel there listening while his motives were in question.

“I think something went wrong with Sonnet‘s spell.” Skye may have had his own biases against the witch, but Gabriel…

Well his vision had been clouded in a different way.

At least Skye would hear him out, even if what Wren was saying felt wrong—like a betrayal.

“The spell definitely worked, Wren. You know I’d be the first to tell you if it hadn’t.” Skye seemed surprised by the turn in the conversation and his eyes scanned the trees around them as if checking for prying eyes or ears. “What exactly do you think went wrong?”

Wren sighed and his skin prickled like the beast beneath his skin was aching to be released.

“Maybe it’s nothing.“ Wren bit his lip as golden eyes flashed in his mind‘s eye. Why was he questioning his instincts? Because of propriety? Social expectation? No. He knew what he felt, pretending otherwise wouldn’t help anything. “No—there’s definitely something wrong. It’s Zennon. ”

“The Lady seems a good match, doesn’t she?” Even Skye sounded unsure as he spoke the words.

“Does she?” Wren looked away from his friend, letting his gaze wander amid the oak trees surrounding them.

In a week’s time, they would be out amongst these trees again for the traditional lunar hunt.

Typically the hunt was nothing to worry about, but with the Goddess’ involvement in his mating ceremony and Wren’s fresh doubts, it was all too likely that Selene would be paying very close attention to what happened beneath the leaves once his beast was unleashed.

“When I was at Temple and I spoke to the Goddess, when she gave me her blessing… I would’ve staked my life that my mate was a shifter.

Like me. Someone strong, fierce, a protector.

” He glanced at Skye and found his friend already watching him.

“Does that sound like Lady Zennon to you?”

“Perhaps her strength is less obvious. She could be fierce of heart, strong of soul. What more could there be?”

Neah, he thought but didn’t say. Instead, he spoke hesitantly, “I feel a strong connection to another.”

At the words, Skye’s mouth dropped open. “You don’t think Zennon’s your mate.” It sounded more like a statement than a question, but Wren nodded all the same.

The soft patter of rain began once more, dripping onto the leaves in the canopy above them, and Wren and Skye paused for shelter beneath a valeneos’ thick branches.

“Have you seen anything?” Wren didn’t mean with his eyes, and Skye understood.

He shook his head and Wren wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

On the one hand, a lack of pressing visions seemed to indicate that everything might turn out fine.

Alternatively, it could just mean that the magic from the ceremony was too strong for Skye to see past.

“Maybe both things are true,” Skye said slowly as the rain came down harder. “It’s possible that something’s not right, as you say, and that the spell worked as intended.”

“How?” Wren frowned. The two statements seemed completely at odds.

“I find it impressive how quickly Lady Neah arrived after Zennon sent for her. Don’t you?” Skye raised a brow and Wren’s heart thumped harder, his mouth running dry. He hadn’t even mentioned Neah’s name, so if Skye thought it was suspicious, it had nothing to do with Wren’s intrigue with the woman.

“You think she was there that night? In Midmyr Forest?” It would make sense, he realised, even if it was more than he dared to hope for—that the connection he felt to her was not something for him to be ashamed about.

Neah was certainly capable of taking on four assassins,if her skill with a bow spoke anything of her proficiency in battle.

Skye lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I think it’s worth finding out where exactly the lady was when her friend summoned her to court for her to arrive so quickly.”

“I think you may be right.”

Wren felt ridiculous. He’d taken Skye’s advice… in a roundabout way. It felt too strange to just come out and ask Neah where she’d been when she’d received Zennon’s summons—too accusatory.

Following her around the palace felt worse, somehow.

He remained out of sight, the hood of his cloak draped in his face to hide his identity from curious passersby who otherwise might have cornered him for chit-chat.

So far, Neah hadn’t done anything untoward. She’d accompanied Zennon to tea with a retinue of ladies—since Wren had danced with them both at the feast, they’d drawn a good amount of speculation as to their familiarity with the king.

Neah had expertly dodged all prying questions while effortlessly appearing charming, it was a masterclass in etiquette if ever he’d seen one.

Then, the two had returned to Neah’s room and had left in fresh dresses several hours later.

Nothing was outwardly strange about their ensemble, but the tension in Lady Zennon’s shoulders made him wary.

The corridors were much quieter in the early evening and Wren had to work harder to avoid notice, dipping into the occasional alcove where possible to avoid being seen.

To his surprise, they turned away from the main corridor that led to the hall where dinner was served nightly for the court. Instead, they wound around the outside of the palace until they approached a small doorway that led to the keeper’s quarters.

Neah glanced over her shoulder as they nudged the heavy door open and Wren ducked back around the corner, peering out only when he heard the door shut and then following.

They hadn’t gone far, but the corridors in this part of the castle were narrower, more winding, and he would have lost them completely if not for him being able to follow their scent.

He hurried along, careful to keep his steps quiet lest Neah sense his approach. A door opened down the hall to his right and Wren paused in place, hidden around the corner, as Neah greeted the person waiting out of his line of sight.

A familiar smell tickled his nose and Wren frowned, trying to place it before recognising the soft floral scent.

It had been present a few times when he’d spoken to Jamison, his captain, but he wasn’t sure why it would be here in the keeper’s quarters.

Jamison certainly had his own rooms, as did Neah, so why?—

Wren peered around the corner in time to see Neah step inside with Zennon on her heels. She paused to hug a small woman with hair the same honeyed shade as Neah’s. Jamison’s wife.

Things started to fall into place in his mind. Neah’s protectiveness of Zennon, the secrecy of this visit… Jamison had long been protective of his wife, and mate, guarding her whereabouts fiercely to prevent her from being a target for the king’s enemies.

It wasn’t until Zennon pulled back from the woman that it all clicked, though. “Mama, I’ve missed you.”

The door closed and Wren forgot how to breathe for several seconds. Mama . Zennon and Neah were sisters? Jamison had never mentioned a second child, why hide one and not the other?

Nothing made sense, but at least Wren now knew that there was more to the both of them than met the eye. However, he also knew that in this exact moment in time it was none of his business. Their secrets were of no pertinence or danger to him, so what right did he have to poke around further?

Satisfied that his spying had yielded nothing that pointed toward a deliberate deception, beyond familial ties that Wren would wager had been hidden by Jamison rather than his daughters, he decided to give up and return to his rooms. Maybe he would have to confront Neah directly in order to get answers to his questions.

Or, perhaps… Zennon. She seemed more unused to court games than Neah, who had grown up in the palace for the most part, so maybe it would be easiest to extract the information he wanted from her.

It would save him from an awkward confrontation if he could instead subtly coax the truth from Zennon—plus, he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top in a conflict with Neah.

Whatever manner of animal lurked beneath her pretty exterior, Wren was certain that coming face to face with it might spell his death.