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CHAPTER TWO

WREN

W ren slept all the way through the afternoon and right into the evening, waking only when the grumble of his stomach refused to be ignored any longer.

Gabe waited for him in the parlour, a plate of food on the table in front of him that he pushed toward Wren when he stumbled into the room and blinked blearily. “As much as I love our naked dinners, maybe you’d be more comfortable with some clothes on?”

Wren glanced down and cursed before walking back into his bedroom and tugging on a loose pair of trousers that cinched with stays at the front. His hair had dried in strange, kinky waves, and he ran a hand through the mess as he sat down heavily into the chair opposite Gabe.

“Thank you,” he murmured, digging into the still-warm bread roll on his plate. “All quiet last night?”

Gabe nodded. “The witch didn’t stir and nobody disturbed us. She’s awake now, looks about as good as you feel I’d wager.”

Wren scowled. “I feel fine, prick.”

Gabe smirked and let Wren finish his meal in silence. “You going to the temple?”

Selene’s temple was where Wren would get the final ingredient for Sonnet’s spell—a blessing from the Goddess. Not easy to come by and typically only granted in dire circumstances, or in traditional ceremonies like weddings and mate bonds.

“Yes.” He would remain in worship until Selene saw fit to bless him.

He couldn’t proceed with the ceremony until he received a token of the Goddess’ favour.

It was one of the things that made soul magic so difficult to perform, the lunar witches had a stronger connection to the Goddess than most. It hadn’t been enough to protect them from the fear of the masses, however. “Is Skye still with Sonnet?”

Gabe nodded. “We didn’t want to leave her alone. Though she’s likely recovered enough that she can defend herself if needed.”

“I’d rather it not come to that,” he murmured and Gabe agreed with a grunt. It would only take a glance for someone to know what Sonnet is—the silver irises of all moon touched were a dead giveaway as to their heritage. “You’ll watch her while I’m at temple?”

“Of course.”

Wren pushed up and away from the table, retrieving a tunic top for his room and slipping it on, buttoning the front deftly.

A decent night’s sleep and a solid breakfast-dinner had him feeling reinvigorated.

He was so close to what he’d worked so tirelessly for all this time.

Now he could only pray that Selene would grant him this boon.

The Goddess’ temple was outside of the palace, in a secluded part of the grounds half-shrouded by the forest. It was only fitting for the temple to be out in nature, for Selene was the Goddess of the moon and wild things.

To entrap her place of worship among the court would be an affront.

As it was, the only material permitted for use to build the temples was moonstone that made the structures hold a glow all of their own.

Wren had always found the Goddess’ temples to be a place of peace.

The first step through the arched entry-way made his shoulders relax, cool air embracing him as he walked further inside.

No lights would be found inside the temple, the glow of the stonework enough to guide the pious to their destination.

His tension slipped away the further he walked through the temple’s tunnels.

If he followed the path all the way around, he knew he would end up in the main chamber of prayer where a moonstone statue of the Goddess watched over those who sought her guidance.

But amid the main tunnel were several offshoots that led to hollowed out nooks with just enough room for one person to stand inside.

It was one of these prayer holes that Wren sought out.

For what he’d come to ask, he wanted privacy.

Plus, only the Goddess should see the king kneel.

The path widened and Wren took the first offshoot he passed, the walls of the cave-like hollow closing around him in a soothing cocoon of luminous stone that made him feel as if the Goddess had wrapped him in an embrace.

Wren tended to pray at the temple several times per year.

Selene was the Goddess of wild things and, as such, didn’t demand tithes or strict examples of devout dedication.

Though, they did tend to celebrate the Goddess when the moon was full, or in ritual ceremonies like that of a mate blessing or wedding, as well as death rites.

More often than not for him, communing with the Goddess had been for a joyous occasion and revelries, but for his task now a more formal tone seemed necessary.

His knees hit the cold ground and Wren didn’t flinch at the impact as his eyes slid closed and his chin tilted upwards. A pressure settled between his shoulder blades, the feeling not entirely comfortable, and he knew the Goddess’ attention was placed squarely on him.

“Selene, I have come to ask for your blessing as I attempt to locate the mate who will break my curse.” The words were spoken quietly, muffled as they sank into the stone surrounding him.

The pressure at his back didn’t lessen, but nor did anything else happen.

Wren frowned. He needed this blessing from the Goddess in order for Sonnet’s spell to work.

A nudge at his back made him sway, as if a palm had rested on his spine and pushed him to continue. Perhaps the more formal route wasn’t what the Goddess needed from him.

Instead, Wren cleared his mind and focused on what he imagined for his mate, for their bond. He’d been so focused on the need to break the curse and secure his Kingdom that he hadn’t considered much about the mating itself, beyond it being a necessity for his survival.

The beast within him awoke and Wren shivered, images flashing in his mind’s eye.

Running beneath the moon, the heavy thud of paws echoed in the presence of another, warmth and bite and power…

An equal. That was what he wanted in a mate.

Someone who would fight for him and the kingdom with a passion that rivalled his own sense of duty, but could also look past the crown to the man beneath.

A tingling swept through his body and when Wren opened his eyes, his lips parted at the glowing markings that encased his hands in sweeps and flourishes of silver swirls that reminded him of tiger stripes.

His mate would be like him, then, a shifter.

And shifter forms always matched that of their mate.

Soon, if everything went to plan, there would be more than one tiger roaming the halls of the castle.

“Thank you,” he murmured and pushed up to standing as the glow in his hands faded but the silver marks remained, looking a little like a long-healed scar. The presence around him slipped away and Wren breathed in deeply before letting the breath out in a slow exhalation. It was time to see a witch.

Wren returned back to his quarters where he’d been told Gabe and Skye were waiting, no doubt with Sonnet in tow, and his jaw unclenched as he saw the three of them in his parlour.

The colour had returned to Sonnet’s face, her silver eyes gleaming as she stood and curtsied. “It’s good to see you again, my king.”

“Are you well?”

She nodded and brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. “Much better, thank you.”

They’d only met once before, last year after his father’s death when his mother had finally confessed the truth about the curse on their bloodline.

Nobody knew where the curse had originated, some said one of their ancestors had displeased a god, others that their kin had spurned a witch.

Wren didn’t care about the particulars, just about breaking it—though, even if he thwarted its hold on him it would still be passed on to his children unless he found a permanent solution.

It had been a short passing of time, and yet Sonnet looked as if she’d been wearied by the world in the year that had elapsed. Her eyes were not as wide and bright, and a perpetual tension sat in her shoulders as she assessed the room.

She looks like prey , he realised.

Her eyes dropped to his clasped hands and she nodded to herself. “Selene was amenable.”

Gabe and Skye peered at Wren’s hands, a furrow in each of their brows as Wren lifted his palms up to let the markings catch the faint light that came in through the window that overlooked the low oak table.

Selene’s blessing was the last component needed for Sonnet to perform the ritual and, somehow, being so close to completion felt much more precarious now than it had months ago when he’d gone searching for the other ingredients the witch would need.

It felt like a sword, swinging over his head and ready to drop at any moment, snatching his victory away before it could be claimed.

“When?” he asked, and the question hung in the air as a tension fell over the four of them.

Skye and Gabe shared a look, amber eyes meeting blue, and Wren ignored their obvious concern.

Yes, finding his mate was a big step, but he had no choice in the matter.

It was either perform this unquiet magic or lose his mind to his animal form.

“Tomorrow night,” Sonnet replied, the words firm despite his huff of impatience. “We need the full moon and I need time to replenish my energies. Gather your witnesses, cleanse yourself for what is to come.”

She made it sound… Frightening. “Will it hurt?” The words slipped out before he could help himself and he grimaced.

Sonnet stood and walked to him, her hand touching his forearm briefly as those disconcerting silver eyes stared into his soul.

“No, there will be no pain. But that does not mean you won’t have to give something of yourself.

” As if that explained everything, Sonnet inclined her head.

“I must prepare. Do you have a room for my use?”

Wren jerked himself out of his swirling thoughts and nodded. “Gabriel will escort you.”