Chapter 5 Wren
Wren stumbled through the smoke, trying to outrun the shrillness of Oonagh Starcrest’s laugh, but the piercing sound echoed in her ears. She wasn’t sure which was more terrifying – the idea that her ancestor might be at Lake Carranam, or that she alone was hearing Oonagh’s voice in her head.
People jostled Wren as she ran, their screams joining the chorus of panic around them. Wren didn’t dare stop. Soon, the smoke would clear and they would all see their queen for what she really was – weak. Frightened. Tainted by forbidden blood magic.
She couldn’t let her people see her this way. She couldn’t let Rose see her this way.
Up ahead, the ancient trees that surrounded Lake Carranam swayed in the smoke. Wren made for the forest as nausea roiled in her gut. She tore her crown off and tossed it in the long grass, searching for some relief. None came. Her magic was twisting and writhing inside her, like an injured animal.
When she reached the first of the trees, she braced her hand against it. The bark was rough against her skin, grounding her.
Breathe, she told herself.
This feeling will pass.
After all, this wasn’t the first time her magic had acted up in the last three months. And it wasn’t the first time she had heard that awful, screeching laugh. She often dreamed of Oonagh, wandering through the snow-capped mountains of Gevra, smiling at her with blood in her teeth. Sometimes when she woke, Wren could still hear her ancestor’s voice in her head, taunting her.
You are tainted like me, broken bird.
There is no going back now.
Wren lumbered to the second tree and then the third. She wound her way deeper into the forest as the smoke cleared behind her. The screaming stopped. Somewhere in the distance, Rose’s voice filled the strained silence. Wren blew out a breath of relief. Her sister was taking charge, soothing their subjects with steady words, a careful laugh. Not for the first time, Wren thanked the stars for Rose. She was the queen that Eana truly deserved. Ever since Wren had returned from Gevra, she felt more and more like she was hanging on by her fingernails. Not just to the throne, but to herself.
After a moment, the laughter in Wren’s head began to fade. She became aware of her surroundings, the trees looming in the darkness, the solemn song of a nightingale perched somewhere overhead.
Wren was suddenly conscious of the pain flaring in her wrist. It felt as if her scar was on fire, as though a cattle brand had been seared into her skin and it was burning through flesh and bone.
She pitched forward, vomiting on the forest floor. The terrible heat remained.
‘Hissing seaweed.’
She rolled her sleeve to her elbow, inspecting the jagged silver crescent. It glowed softly in the fractured moonlight, the pale skin around it reddening as it burned.
Wren cursed again. This was not the first time the scar had caused her pain, but it had never been this bad before. She grabbed a fistful of dirt and smeared it on her wrist to cool her skin. Her stomach lurched and she vomited again.
She crawled to a nearby tree, pressing her forehead to the trunk.
Help me, Eana, first witch of this land.
Let this horror pass.
Wren didn’t know how much time went by as she knelt by the tree or how many breaths it took to calm the poker-hot pain in her arm, but after a while, the leaves around her rustled and a familiar voice rang out.
‘Wren? What’s going on?’ Shen Lo came through the trees like a brisk wind, making no sound at all. A determined crunch announced the presence of Rose, who was following close behind.
‘Wren! Oh, thank the stars you’re safe. I was afraid …’ Rose’s voice wobbled as she held up Wren’s crown, which she must have plucked from the grass. Now that she could see her sister was all right, Rose’s concern quickly turned to anger. ‘What are you doing hiding in here? You completely abandoned me out there!’
‘Sorry,’ said Wren, pulling herself to her feet. ‘I … needed a minute.’
Rose folded her arms, glaring at her sister. ‘Well, I needed you. And you disappeared. Again.’
Wren knew Rose still hadn’t forgiven her for sneaking off to Gevra in the dead of night all those months ago. And she didn’t know the half of what had happened there.
‘She’s been sick,’ said Shen, coming to Wren. His eyes were filled with concern. ‘You don’t look well.’
‘I’m all right.’ Wren wished her hair was loose so she could pull it around her face. Shen was doing that annoying thing again, where he saw right through her. ‘It was Cam’s chocolate stars. They were so rich.’
Rose wrinkled her nose. ‘I did say you’d regret eating seven in a row.’
Wren forced a chuckle. ‘Banba always said my eyes were bigger than my stomach.’
Shen was still frowning. Wren wanted to shoo him away and tell him to mind his own damned business. He was too nosy for his own good, and it didn’t help that as her best friend, he knew Wren better than anyone. He knew the cadence of her lies, the sound of the truth in her mouth.
He knew she was lying now.
‘What about the crowd?’ said Wren, quickly changing the subject. ‘Did you manage to calm them?’
‘Once the smoke cleared,’ said Rose, with a sigh. ‘I had to ask Rowena to help. You know how I struggle to harness the wind.’ Wren heard the unsaid accusation in her sister’s voice: that if she had been there, Wren could have helped Rose banish the smoke. ‘But we got through it.’
‘Good,’ said Wren, looking everywhere but at Shen.
Rose frowned as she went on. ‘The spell must have grown too big. It became unwieldy.’
‘That must be it,’ said Wren, trying to keep the guilt from her voice.
‘But it was brilliant, wasn’t it?’ said Rose, with an uncertain smile. ‘At least for a while.’
‘It really was,’ said Wren, relieved to have found a kernel of truth in this moment.
Rose was finally softening but much to Wren’s annoyance, Shen was growing more suspicious. ‘Uh-huh,’ he muttered, his gaze falling to the scar on her wrist. Wren tugged her sleeve down but it was too late. He opened his mouth to speak.
‘Don’t,’ she hissed. ‘Not here.’
‘Wren,’ said Shen, sternly.
‘What is it?’ said Rose, coming over.
Wren grabbed Shen’s shoulders and turned him around. ‘Hey, do you hear that?’ She gestured back towards the lake. ‘The minstrels have started playing again. You love this tune, Rose. If only you had someone to dance with.’
Shen scowled at Wren. ‘I know what you’re doing.’
Rose misread his annoyance, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. ‘I think you will both find that I have many people to dance with.’ She picked up her skirts and spun on her heel. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, at least one of us should be getting back to the festival.’
She strode off, her skirts swishing back and forth behind her.
‘Rose! Wait!’ Shen hurried after her, but not before tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder.
Wren knew that look well.
This isn’t over, Greenrock.
No, she thought, as she refixed the button on her sleeve. It isn’t over. Whatever this trouble is has only just begun.
But Wren would worry about that tomorrow.
For now, she needed to dance with her sister and welcome the spring.