CHAPTER 4 Wren #2
She became increasingly aware of how exposed the scar on her throat was, of the fine weave of the fabric swishing about her legs, of the striking man at her side – who was right in every way but the way that mattered. She could hear the hushed whispers.
‘What a handsome pair.’
‘Perhaps there’s hope for the midrealms yet.’
‘Imagine their children—’
Bile rose in Wren’s throat at that last comment. When they entered the formal banquet hall to applause, she accepted a flute of pale gold wine and tipped it back to wash out the taste.
Darian’s arm snaked around her waist, drawing her close enough that she could feel the warmth of him through his finely tailored jacket. ‘Don’t be shy, now, future wife,’ he murmured, guiding her through yet another crowd.
I can damn well walk myself, she wanted to snap at him, but she bit the words back.
An unnerving presence dominated her other side, and she glanced across to see Lord Lucian flanking her right. ‘You should smile more,’ he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and sticky. ‘You won’t win any favours with that scowl.’
Wren swallowed an array of curses, tempted to deposit the contents of the vial in her cleavage down the nobleman’s throat.
‘And what about our exchange of favours, Lord Lucian?’ she asked serenely instead. ‘I was promised methods and ingredients for the antidote to the Bear Slayer’s poison . . . and a direct line to your spies within the People’s Vanguard.’
‘All in good time, Your Highness. You’ll have what was promised when you’re married. As agreed,’ he replied. ‘In the meantime, our first priority is the war efforts affecting the people of the midrealms, surely?’
‘Surely,’ Wren replied.
‘And I trust there will be no trouble from your warrior acquaintance when we see him again?’ There was a smugness to Lucian’s words that made Wren’s skin itch, as though he was testing her control.
Control that she had to keep tightly leashed, lest she conjure a storm right then and there.
‘There will be no trouble,’ she said. ‘There will be no need to see the Bear Slayer again once you deliver what was promised.’
‘We’ll see about that, won’t we, Your Highness. Though I do hope to call you daughter soon enough.’
The sentiment made her feel as though she were sliding through oil, unable to scrape it from her skin. ‘Nothing would make me happier, my lord.’ Though she silently thought: His time will come.
When they were seated at the table, Wren surveyed the feast before them. The silver platters and crystal glasses were all courtesy of the man whose ring she wore and the alliance he offered her and her kingdom.
The man in question cleared his throat and raised his goblet. ‘A thousand thanks to our gracious hosts, Lord and Lady Briar. We are honoured to be at your table tonight.’
Was this what campaigning for allies meant? Pretty speeches and expensive wine? One display of wealth after another, indulging over and over? No wonder the common folk of the midrealms had been vulnerable to Silas’s propaganda. Beneath the table, Wren picked at the skin around her fingernails.
But Darian wasn’t done. ‘The noble house of Briar has been a friend of our family for as long as I can remember, and we have leaned on your support for many of our challenges throughout the years. My bride-to-be and I come here today to ask for that support again. Some of you may remember Delmira in its glory days . . . I’m told it was the most prosperous land the midrealms had ever seen.
Now it has the potential to reach those heights again, with one of the most valuable resources at its heart: the silvertide rose, strengthened by Elwren’s storm magic.
That is what we stand to gain with Elwren as queen, and me as her husband on the throne beside her. ’
Wren could see the greed glinting back at her, and a chill ran down her spine. Drawing attention to the importance of the roses felt wrong. They were meant to be protecting them, rallying the funds and army to help her harvest them to make the cure, not shouting about them from the rooftops.
But Darian was oblivious as he continued.
‘Silas the usurper stands for many false causes, but his biggest is the one you fear most – the threat to all that your families have built over the centuries. Your livelihoods, your wealth . . . Pledge your private armies to us, as you have done many a time before, and reap the rewards of our union when the war is won.’
Darian nodded to his father, who rose next to speak.
‘I have the first reports of the usurper’s numbers,’ Lord Lucian announced.
The table fell silent around them. ‘Our corroborated estimate is that Silas’s forces sit at around five thousand.
A large bulk of the force is made up of those who call themselves the People’s Vanguard, recruited from the common folk of all remaining kingdoms. I say we hit them with full force,’ he declared.
‘Squash them where they stand and watch their children scurry back to the hole they came from.’
‘Hear, hear.’ Lord Briar tapped his goblet on the table in solidarity.
‘I disagree,’ Wren said loudly. ‘You are lumping an entire people in with the usurper, when in fact he has manipulated them into thinking he’s fighting for them. The majority of them aren’t violent traitors. They’re misplaced and lost. They need our help.’
‘Of course, Your Highness.’ Lord Lucian bowed his head. ‘And should any of them prove to be innocent, we shall help them find their place once more. Your feminine rule is one of justice and mercy.’
Darian’s arm draped around Wren’s shoulders as he laughed. ‘Why do you think I’m marrying her, Father? The midrealms need someone like Elwren Embervale at the helm.’
Wren chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from stabbing the smug bastard with her poisoned hairpin. Instead, she cupped Darian’s face with her palm. ‘Your faith means the world to me, my love.’
The words tasted sickly sweet on her tongue, but Wren saw the nobility fawn at the intimate gesture. And so she leaned into Darian, resting her head on his shoulder affectionately for a moment before gazing up at him with what she hoped looked like admiration.
‘Tell me, if Lord Briar is generous enough to offer his support, what then?’ She kept her tone light and bland. A role, she told herself. This is a role you must play.
‘My father’s own bannermen are a force of three hundred strong, and if Lord Briar obliges us, we will journey to Lord Pendelton next to request his assistance as well,’ Darian replied with a patronizing note.
‘It will then be a matter of rallying the royal armies of Aveum, Tver, Harenth and Naarva to our cause and forming a battle plan. Tyranny threatens us all, and a usurper of one kingdom is a usurper of all.’
Wren took a sip of wine as sounds of agreement echoed down the table. ‘I trust the issues with the supply lines have been remedied?’ she asked. ‘I’d hate for any of our brave fighters to be left without . . .’
‘Nothing to worry about, Your Highness,’ Lord Briar replied with another condescending smile.
‘A sizable force was sighted several leagues from Drevenor, not all too far from here. But they changed course, splitting into smaller groups and moving on. No challenge has been issued and our supply lines remain intact. The threat is no longer cause for concern.’
Wren caught Kipp’s eye. The strategist was thoughtfully tracing the rim of his goblet with a finger.
‘My intelligence suggests that Silas is avoiding direct conflict for now,’ he said.
‘That he’s rallying and conserving his strength for a more focused attack, be that on Delmira’s heartlands or somewhere else.
But we cannot dismiss threats so easily.
Whether he knows it yet or not, the silvertide roses are the key to either stopping or amplifying his shadow magic.
We can’t afford to underestimate his movements. ’
‘My scouts have everything in hand,’ Lucian interjected testily. ‘Princess Elwren, you and your advisers shouldn’t worry yourselves about these things.’
Gentle fingers trailed down her cheek, causing her to start. Warm breath tickled the shell of her ear. ‘My father is an expert in these matters,’ Darian said. ‘Allow him the honour of aiding your cause.’
Her skin crawling at his touch, Wren caught his hand and placed it on the table, covering it with hers, but managing to dig her nails into his skin. ‘Of course,’ she said placidly. But beneath her words, there was nothing placid about her.
Her lightning promised to lay siege to their corruption, as had her poison before.