Chapter Five Wren #2
Arm in arm we strolled to the line of waiting carriages and the bored drivers manning them. When William, our driver, spotted me, he jerked upright in his seat and straightened his crumpled brown coat. Flakes of pastry tumbled onto the cobblestones below.
“Can you please take Lady Wren home?” Everett asked. “She has a horrid headache.”
William took one peek at me and I noticed the slight rise of his bushy graying brow. If he knew better, he’d understand that a headache was an excuse for something that typically caused headaches. Nevertheless, he nodded. “I’ll return for your parents once you’re settled.”
Thank the Fates.
I was being saved from the partygoers and my parents. I truly owed Everett a dance at the next event.
Everett helped me climb into the carriage, my hand in his.
I imagined for just a second that it wouldn’t be so bad being with someone like him.
He had an outstanding reputation, and his gift rendered him a master with numbers.
He kept the wiry glasses in his pocket with him at all times, never knowing when his assistance would be needed for some representative or anxious lord who’d had an evening of indulgence and worried for his estate.
“Good night, Lady Hayes,” Everett said once I’d taken my seat. “I do hope to see you soon, though perhaps next time we’ll leave out the garden escapades.”
He was very much—and surprisingly—interested. Mother would be thrilled.
“Promise,” I replied. “Thank you again.” I’d spoken the words so many times tonight.
“It gave me an excuse to play hero. While the thief managed to get away, I got a chance to spend time in your company.”
I hid my grimace well. It was a nice thing to say. A way of flirting. No matter the way it made me want to cringe. He might be nervous, I reminded myself, trying not to be cruel. Secretly, I wanted to ruffle his hair and see him break character. To uncover more beneath the facade.
Everett grinned as he shut the door gently, and the carriage heaved forward with a jolt.
Twenty minutes later, I stood safely inside my bedroom, attempting to rip off my dress. I’d dismissed our maid, Sarah, who’d gasped at my unseemly state before I shut my door.
Damn it all. I ripped at the already ruined fabric until I slid free. The remnants dropped to the wooden floor with a whoosh. My corset, on the other hand, proved harder to get out of, but I was nothing if not persistent.
Hair combed and changed into a fresh nightdress, I slid into bed and turned the knob of the lamp upon the nightstand.
In the voiceless dark, I didn’t envision Lord Everett or his handsome, kind face. I pictured him, the thief. His sneer. That exasperating smirk. The way he’d assumed me incapable of inflicting harm.
I’d been underestimated my whole existence. That ended today.
In the morning, I planned to visit the Palace of the Fates, but my thoughts were set on gleaning more information about the thief and determining how to let him know that Wren Hayes was no witless damsel of Ward One.
I woke before dawn.
My parents and Callie had stumbled, loudly, into the house hours earlier. They should be well and truly asleep for most of the day. Judging by their late arrival, they hadn’t missed me all that much at the ball.
Perfect.
Dressing in my finest to appease the Fates—an understated yellow satin number with a square neckline and short tulle sleeves—I grabbed my coat and crept down the stairs.
I avoided all the creaks I’d memorized over the years, but no one roamed the halls, and I made it downstairs unnoticed. Using the garden exit, the sun barely rising in the sky, I unlocked the gate with the brass key I’d snatched from the hook hanging in the kitchen.
Making sure to lock up behind me, I surveyed the glistening avenues of Andalay. The sunrise painted the streets in dreamlike shades of peaches, bright pinks, and dusty oranges, the colors dancing together as they illuminated the northern end and all its charmed brilliance.
Since we lived downtown, quaint, upscale shops surrounded our town house; some dedicated to fixing magical gifts, others simply boasting luxurious clothing and jewelry. The weary-eyed shop owners were only now making their way to open up for the day, flipping their Closed signs to Open.
Everywhere you looked, the upper-class merchants could be seen employing their gifts—from the realm’s most prestigious bakers using magic-infused rolling pins to craft the freshest breads, to renowned seamstresses exercising their magicked needles, which didn’t require a touch to sew luxurious garments.
They might not be noble, but their esteemed professions got them invited to numerous balls and parties, and they were often spotted frequenting the same establishments as the elite.
I passed them all, my sights set on the dusty-rose palace and its three high towers.
Hedged in on all sides, the entrance would be heavily guarded—and without a summons, I doubted they would see me.
Not that I wouldn’t try. Maybe they’d been waiting for me to visit them after I failed to receive my gift.
Perhaps all of this time spent agonizing could’ve been averted if I’d only had the courage to leave home.
Please don’t let it be denial. I’d spent too much time considering why I’d been neglected, and come up short.
While that might make me seem cocky, I was adamant that I’d spent a lifetime worshipping the immortals as they requested.
I’d always known what I wanted, and I had undoubtedly put in the effort.
A butterfly landed on my shoulder as I crossed the road to the palace entrance, its wings a vibrant pink and gold.
“Wishing me luck?” I asked cheerfully, though a slight quiver remained persistent in my voice.
It fluttered its wings in response. I smiled.
“I’ll take that as a good sign.” The little creature tickled my cheeks before flying off and leaving me to face the Fates alone.
Two guards manned the front entrance, but looks were deceiving; there should be hundreds inside if what my father said stayed true.
He’d been summoned a year before, and according to him, the Fates hadn’t deigned to meet him in person—rather, they sent an attendant who had briefly questioned him on his ward’s overall productiveness.
The whole thing lasted twenty minutes. Though now that I thought about it, he’d been absent most of that day.
Callie had been sick at home, unable to attend, but even she proved curious as to where he’d gone.
Likely the office, but Father kept his secrets close to the chest.
A deep sound of protest worked up my throat as I sat there and made excuses not to move.
Just do it, Wren. Walk across the street and ask. What harm can come?
Well, what more harm could come?
My hands were slicked with sweat by the time I faced the first guard, an older man wearing the stiff Andalay jacket of deep blue threaded with golden stitches. He awarded me a cold once-over, reminding me of Mother.
“I am here to see the—the Fates. Spe-specifically, Day.” I hated how my voice shook. It wasn’t like the guard himself was Day; he was simply one of the immortals’ lackeys.
The man’s graying brows pinched together. “And you are?”
“Wren Hayes.” I ground my teeth to keep my chin from wobbling.
Anxiety hummed like bees through my chest, my heart a fluttering mess of uneven chords.
When he opened his mouth, I assumed he’d turn me away or laugh, but then he paused.
His head cocked to the side and went utterly still as if he listened to some imaginary voice.
Abruptly, the guard stepped aside, his companion mirroring his comrade’s actions.
“You are permitted entry to the Gardens of Dusk.”
Dusk? No, surely he must’ve misheard me.
“But I said—”
“That is the only area where you are permitted…unless you’d like to turn around and return home?”
Dusk didn’t frighten me. Not like she did some others.
Yes, Dusk endured as the keeper of the dying and the dead, but she also guarded us in our older years.
Saved us from pain. Supposedly, we saw her face when we took our last breaths, and her mere existence allowed the passage of souls to the afterworld.
If she was the lone Fate willing to see me, then so be it. This would be my only chance.
I would see a Fate today. A Fate.
More sweat gathered on my brow, elation and fear mixing together to form a heady combination.
I stepped beyond the gate and past the two rigid guards.
Instantly, the scent in the air transformed from the fresh pastries being baked in the city to an overwhelming aroma of gardenias; they were my nan’s favorite before she died, and Callie and I had a fondness for them.
The floral smell invaded my senses as I stood before the palace, seconds from meeting a divine being. I’d never felt so small. Insignificant.
Three pathways had been erected, the thick trees with lush green leaves making it all but impossible to walk straight toward the palace itself.
The first pathway shimmered in golden light, jasmine blooms sprouting from the earth.
Roses of yellow and pink covered the second path, much like the ones from my own garden.
Dawn and Day. Those had to be the routes to their domains.
The last pathway lay shrouded, the air surrounding it shades darker than the others, like night itself warred to rule over the entrance.
Surprise filled me when I noted vibrant red poppies springing from the soil; the flower of remembrance.
Heart thumping in my ears, I headed for the darker of the three trails, tripping over my own feet as I went.