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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

WREN

T hey had searched for Castor right up until the deadline for the ceremony, when they’d had to admit defeat.

He would be there, Wren was sure. But it still felt like he’d failed his mate in not being able to find her.

The shackles effect on her magic had dampened the fragile thread of their bond so that he couldn’t even follow that to find her.

Wherever his uncle had her tucked away had to be one of the infamous, secret rooms built into the palace.

Wren had found many of them over the years, but plenty still eluded him.

By now, the court would be gathered and waiting for him and Neah, ready to celebrate their bond.

Except, Neah wasn’t there. The breath caught in his chest and Wren coughed lightly as he adjusted the cuffs of his custom ceremonial wear and straightened his golden crown.

The details were lost on him as he kept imagining the worst, Neah’s body lifeless at the altar, his uncle waiting for him with a smile next to her body.

Wren shook his head, as if he could rid himself of the image by force.

A steadying hand touched his arm and he nodded when Skye asked if he was okay.

The truth was that he was a wreck. He was trying to be strong, but rage and sorrow waged a war inside of him that left him shaken.

“It’s time,” Sonnet said, cutting through the buzzing that had risen up around him and left him unmoored. “Are you ready?

Wren nodded. He could do this. For Neah.

He pushed a smile onto his face and let Sonnet walk into the great hall first, Gabe and Skye at her side. Waiting a beat, Wren looked to the floor and tried to slow the racing of his heart before jolting at a touch on his inner arm.

His mother smiled at him. “You didn’t think I’d let you walk alone, did you, cub?” Wren’s shoulders eased and he managed a wobbly smile back. “There. You see? No need to be nervous. Your other half is waiting for you.”

He swallowed thickly but nodded. Nobody knew the ceremony had descended into a farce, little more than a trap for his uncle, but they would soon enough.

Wren walked into the hall with his mother on his arm and wrath in his blood.

The room had been decorated for the occasion, an arch stood at the back of the room, haloed by the setting sun through the back window.

Pale flowers twined and cascaded over the structure and a white strip of material had been laid on the ground as a walkway that led to the altar where Sonnet stood.

It was beautiful, and it would have been perfect for their bonding ceremony.

It was a shame that fate had other plans.

His mother kissed his cheek when they reached the front and he squeezed her hand gently before she moved off to the right to stand with Gabe and Skye.

Ingredients for the spell were laid out on the moonstone altar beneath the arch, a white ribbon, white sage, and a ceremonial knife for their blood with a hilt made of jade.

Wren turned to face the crowd, his kingdom and court, and the dark expression on his face made the smiles in the rows of seats falter.

“Well, Uncle? Are you going to make me wait?”

Silence fell before a rush of murmurs swept the room like the buzz of an insect, cut only by the chuckle of Castor as he stood from his seat within the crowd and made his way out into the aisle.

“You always were a clever one. So unlike your father in that regard.”

Gasps rang out and Wren was glad to hear it, to know that Castor’s poison hadn’t spread everywhere in the palace just yet.

“Castor, what are you saying?” His mother had moved closer to Wren, the shock on her face authentic, and he allowed himself a moment of relief to know that whatever his uncle had planned, she’d had no part in it.

“Oh hello, Fortuna dear. You deign to speak with me now, hm? It only took some attempted murder and the attention of the entire court to gain the honour, but no matter. Bygones.” Castor laughed without humour and Wren nudged his mother back toward Gabe and Skye.

“Where is she?”

“Straight to business? Well, alright then. For anyone unaware of the king’s current predicament, he’s waiting for his mate, his queen . Except, she won’t be arriving. Not while I hold her in the old cells beneath the palace.”

Cells . Wren saw red, a growl leaving him that shook the petals of the flowers on the arch. Sonnet moved to his side and he took a breath, nodding at her in thanks. He needed to play this right, or they would lose Neah for good.

The court sat silently, shocked, though a few had started to rise and creep for the exit. Wise, if the bloodshed Wren anticipated proved to be true.

“What’s to stop me from killing you and retrieving her?” He kept the words smooth, controlled, and Castor’s smile was mocking, as if he could see every inch of the struggle beneath Wren’s facade.

“If my men don’t hear from me within half an hour, they’ll kill her.”

Within half hour. Wren did the math and ground his teeth. He wouldn’t get there in time if he killed Castor now. The tunnels that led to the old cells were extensive. Traversing them would be faster on four feet, but he couldn’t gamble. Not when it came to Neah’s life.

Resigned, he took a step down from the dais and toward his uncle. “What do you want?”

“What should always have been mine.” Castor’s face screwed up into a scowl and oddly, Wren thought it suited him better than the faux-pleasant mask he always wore. “The crown for your mate.”

“That’s not?—”

Wren cut his mother off, eyes on Castor. “You’ll relinquish Neah, alive, to me?”

“Wren! You cannot do this. The crown was never meant for him!”

“Why is that, Fortuna? Oh. He told you didn’t he?” Castor chuckled as he approached, brushing past Wren like he was little more than an irritant. “Naughty Theodore. He was supposed to take that secret to the grave. I suppose I should have killed him sooner.”

Wren froze and then slowly turned, breaths coming sharp and fast. “What did you just say?”

“Ah. You hadn’t put that part together yet? Surprise,” Castor said dryly. “Daddy’s dead and it’s all mean Uncle Castor’s fault.”

It was at that moment that Wren realised his uncle was unhinged. How hadn’t he seen the madness lurking beneath the surface before?

“So you see,” Castor continued, cupping Fortuna’s face tenderly enough that Wren felt sick.

“The crown should always have passed to me. No pesky curse to worry about from the illegitimate brother, an heir ready to go…” Castor dropped his hand and turned to face Wren, the hatred in his eyes burning deeply as the fading sunlight cast shadows onto his cheeks, making him look hollow. “But you were chosen. You .”

Wren straightened, doing his best to look impassive even as internally he reeled from the truth of his father’s death. “Are we going to chat? Or crown a new king?” He’d meant what he’d told Neah before. His crown and kingdom meant nothing without her. She was his priority.

He took off the crown and cradled it in his palms, eyes following the swirls and knots and the roaring tiger’s head that made up the carved centrepiece. Then he tossed it to his uncle.

Castor caught it, bemused. “There’s a little more to it than that.”

“By all means. We’re all here.” Wren swept his hand out to indicate the half-full room. Many of the inhabitants had stayed, out of loyalty or just curiosity, he didn’t know. Others had fled the upcoming conflict.

“Here.” Castor beckoned him closer and Wren didn’t hesitate, showed no fear. “Kneel. Repeat after me. I, Wren Ainsworthy, ” Castor intoned and Wren rolled his eyes as he knelt to the ground and complied. “ Do freely surrender my throne, my crown, and my title.”

Wren cleared his throat to continue, just wanting it over with. Wanting Neah back where she belonged: by his side. “Do freely sur?—”

The doors to the hall crashed open, stealing his words.

Golden eyes met his own and lips he’d tasted mere nights ago tipped up in a smile.

Blood and streaks of dirt covered her skin, the remnants of bruising fading before his eyes, as Neah walked into the room as if this were an everyday occurrence.

“Sorry I’m late. I seem to have misplaced my dress,” she said lightly, but the look she levelled on Castor would have driven enemies from their door in fear. “Oh good, Castor. I was hoping to catch-up with you.”