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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WREN

G etting Lady Zennon alone felt like an impossible task. Wherever she went, Neah followed. It offered him no opportunities to pry for information, not when Wren had seen how effortlessly Neah had charmed and eluded the ladies of the court. She would see right through him in an instant.

But he could be patient, waiting and watching for the right time to strike.

His chance came late in the afternoon, the day after he had spied on the girls inside the palace, while they attended an afternoon gathering.

The rain had been annoyingly persistent, though he knew he’d be glad for this rainfall early next week when the lunar hunt was due to take place in, hopefully, drier conditions.

Neah had walked away from her sister in order to talk to a young nobleman across the way and Wren had seized the opportunity while she was distracted.

“Lady Zennon! It looks as if the rain has eased. Would you care to take a turn with me around the gardens?”

Zennon smiled and nodded, relief sharp on her face as she left the clutches of three Ladies who were likely intent on prying information out of her. Not that Wren was any better.

“Thank you,” she said a few moments later as he led them out of the room and toward a hidden exit that opened straight into the gardens. “The offer of fresh air couldn’t have been better timed.”

“You’re not enjoying your time at court?”

Pink stained her cheeks and her fingers tightened on the inside of his arm as they walked at a sedate pace.

The wet grass dampened the hem of her dress from blue to indigo, but Zennon showed no sign of caring.

“I like court very much, Your Majesty. But, as you might have guessed, I don’t have much experience with the intricacies of court machinations. ”

He chuckled, unable to help himself. “If by that you mean that the court is full of incorrigible gossips, then I agree.” A cool breeze drifted over them, lifting the ends of Wren’s hair. “They have their uses though.”

“Oh?” Brows scrunched together, it was clear that Zennon couldn’t imagine how that could be the case.

“Allies,” he said, matter of fact. “Take Melinda Bashwather, for example. An odious woman, but a rich one. Where she spends her coin, others tend to follow.”

“You’re the king, what use could you have for coin?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s less about what I do or do not lack, and more about what that support could do for our enemies.”

They paused by a row of bushes decorated with tiny lilac flowers, droplets of rain caught on their petals.

“You know, I have quite a lot of money.”

Wren bit his lip to hide his laugh. “Humble, too.”

Zennon laughed and it rang high and pure, like the wind chimes at his father’s hunting cabin. “I only mean that I am a less odious woman than that of Melinda Bashwather. And yet, until now, you have made no requests of me.”

This was true, but largely because money didn’t always equal influence and, for the most part, Lady Zennon was an unknown. She kept to herself on her estate and lived a quiet life—or, that’s what he’d believed until he’d seen her with Neah the night prior.

“What about your family?” He hoped the transition was smooth and breathed easier when she seemed unalarmed. “Must you split your many coin with them?”

She laughed but the sound faded quickly. “No. I am the last of my mother’s line and my parents have been gone for quite some time now.”

Given that Jamison and his wife were very much alive, Wren could only assume she referred to the parents from whom she claimed her name.

Wren sniffed delicately but couldn’t detect even a faint trace of shifter or magic on her.

Either she was being cloaked by someone, or some thing powerful, or Zennon truly was human.

“You and Lady Neah are very close,” he said carefully, keeping his tone light and smile unconcerned. “How did you cross paths?”

To his surprise, she grinned. “You know, I can’t remember the exact moment we met. Sometimes it feels as if I’ve known her forever.”

He understood the feeling. “I’m the same way with Gabriel and Skye.”

“Not Sonnet?”

They turned away from the flower bush and continued walking, doing a loop of the stone fountain up ahead and coming back the way they came. “No, Sonnet is a more recent and temporary addition to our group.”

Zennon hummed, the sound amused. “She may become more permanent than you realise.”

“Oh?” Wren frowned and followed the direction of Zennon’s gaze when she nodded to the shrubbery to their left where Sonnet and Skye stood beneath a leafy canopy, arguing by the looks of things. Although…

“It’s strange, isn’t it? How attraction can blur the lines between hatred and desire.”

Desire. Skye didn’t desire Sonnet, did he?

And Sonnet… Well, there was clearly no love-lost between the two of them.

But the way they stood, their eyes wholly focused on the other, Skye’s large form bent over Sonnet’s, her hands curled into fists that occasionally sparked silver…

It was enough to make a king doubt himself.

Wren looked away, unsure what to make of the tense altercation, and Zennon chuckled quietly.

“Do you believe in honesty, my king?”

The question startled him and Wren looked up at Zennon in surprise, taking in the warmth in her brown eyes and the gentle kindness of her face. “Yes. In fact, I prefer it. As king, I’m too often capitulated to—it’s infuriating.”

She nodded, her dark hair falling into her face.

“I believe in honesty too. But please know that it brings me no pleasure to say this to you.” She took a deep breath and Wren’s mouth ran dry as she took his hands in hers and pulled them to a stop, facing one another.

“Your spell is inaccurate. I would be glad to consider you a friend, but I feel nothing more for you than that—and I never will.”

Wren recoiled, his hands slipping out of her soft grip. “But?—”

“You can’t tell me that you truly believe we are fated.” She laughed and patted his shoulder. “We have about as much chemistry as a wet log in the mud.”

He knew she was right, had said almost the same thing to Skye himself, but to have it confirmed… to know for certain that he was back at square one… It was more than he could take. His face crumpled and he dragged a palm over it, not wanting Zennon to think his despair was caused by her.

“Oh,” she said softly. “I–Um, I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I had thought you felt similarly to me. Perhaps I was mistaken?—”

“No,” he said, the words guttural, and he cleared his throat before trying again.

“No, I believe you are right, Zennon. And please, for the last time, call me Wren.” She still looked worried, eyes crinkling at the corners as her brow pinched with concern.

“Sonnet assured me the spell worked—and so did Skye, there’s no way he would lie to me. ”

Zennon looked away, biting her lip, and he knew this was his chance.

“Do you… know something? Was someone else there that night?”

Voicing the question aloud felt freeing, even as Zennon shut down. Her face pulled perfectly blank even as a new tension settled in the lines of her shoulders.

“I don’t know what you mean. There was nobody there but me.”

Lie . He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he would have bet his life that she was hiding the truth in that moment. The only logical reason he could think of was that she was protecting someone.

Neah , his mind supplied and he tried not to fixate on the thought or the hope it reared in his chest. But why did Zennon think that Neah needed protecting? He would never hurt her, nor blame her for being hesitant to accept the enormity of a mating bond.

Sensing if he pushed, Zennon would shut down further, he instead nodded. “Okay.”

Thunder rumbled faintly and the rain began again, this time in a subtle mist that was visible only in the strands of their hair and the tips of their eyelashes.

Zennon didn’t seem to mind the damp though, and nor did Wren, and so they continued their slow walk back to the palace in a silence that he found comfortable.

He hadn’t gotten all the answers he’d wanted, but he’d learned a lot just the same.

In some ways, Zennon had cut to the heart of the issue—she wasn’t his mate.

The realisation brought more relief than panic the second time he repeated it, like the Goddess had been waiting for him to catch-up to what his instincts already knew.

“Thank you,” he said to Zennon as they reached the arched door that would lead them back into the castle. He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand and smiled. “Your honesty was exactly what I needed to hear.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned away and left her in the doorway. Now that he had parsed out some of the truth, he needed time to process it, to let his mind settle the best way he knew how.

Heavy paws hit the earth with only half a thought and he heard Zennon gasp as he shook out his fur and stretched his claws.

For now, he needed to silence his thoughts. He needed to run .