Chapter 53 Wren
When Wren returned to her bedroom at Anadawn after the celebration at Lake Carranam, she could hardly feel her feet. Her body ached from dancing but her magic was wide awake and buzzing with pride for her kingdom. Her people. Her sister. Tonight had been wonderful, a time to remember those brave souls who had given their lives for Eana and to celebrate the victory they had helped Wren and Rose achieve. The darkness was at last behind them. Now was a time of peace, and hope for the future.
A future that Wren finally felt truly ready for. As herself. As queen of Eana.
And yet despite the night’s merriment, a part of Wren couldn’t help but feel sad.
She missed Tor. The Gevran army had set sail not long after the battle, returning to their country with their soldiers and their dead. Though Alarik had officially dismissed Tor from his post during their time in the Mishnick Mountains, the king and his captain had come together in the end, uniting in friendship and victory. Much to Wren’s disappointment, Tor had decided to return to Gevra with his army so he could sail on to Carrig to visit his family and help repair the damage Oonagh had done to his beloved island.
Wren understood why he had to go but it didn’t make parting from him any easier. Although a month had passed since she last saw him, she still felt the same ache in her heart and resented the icy sea that stretched between them.
Tor had promised Wren he would write to her once his feet touched Gevran soil, and he had kept that promise, sending several missives in the weeks since. Wren had worked up the courage to invite him to the celebrations at Lake Carranam, but she never received a reply, and despite her hopes, Tor hadn’t appeared. In fact, she hadn’t heard from the Gevran soldier in over a week, and the silence was starting to unnerve her.
She tried not to dwell on it as she kicked off her heels and collapsed on her bed. She was still wearing her magnificent gown, a cinched dress of midnight blue and delicate silver filigree that cascaded into a full layered skirt. She was about to call for a maidservant to help her wriggle out of it when there came a tap at the window.
When Wren saw it was a Gevran nighthawk, she rushed to the window, nearly knocking the poor bird from the sill. She hastily untied the letter from its foot, her heart hitching as she read the familiar scrawl.
Wren,
Open the gates.
Yours,
Tor
Wren cast the letter aside and raced across the room, forgetting all about her shoes. She hurtled down the tower, taking the steps two at a time and almost crashing into the guards stationed at the bottom.
‘Sorry!’ she shouted over her shoulder as she continued down the hallway, moving so fast she skidded on the stone. When she reached the bottom floor, she nearly barrelled straight into Rose, who was returning from a midnight visit to the kitchens with a pocket stuffed full of what appeared to be chocolate biscuits.
She startled at Wren. ‘What on earth has got into you?’ She frowned, then. ‘You’d better not be running away to Gevra again.’
‘Never!’ said Wren, hurrying past her sister. ‘This time Gevra has come to me!’
Rose laughed as she watched her go. ‘Well, it’s about time!’
Wren summoned a burst of tempest magic, flinging the palace doors open as she ran. The guards stuck their heads out in alarm but Wren paid them no mind. She thundered into the courtyard, making a beeline for the golden gates.
When she saw Tor standing on the other side, her heart flipped. He was no longer wearing his pristine Gevran uniform, but a simple white shirt, black trousers and leather boots. Moonlight danced along the copper strands of his hair and lit up his eyes as he kept one hand on the trusty hilt of his sword – still battle-ready, even now – and the other curled around the railings as though he wanted to rip the gates from the ground to get to her.
‘Open the gates!’ Wren yelled to her guards. ‘Hurry!’
The gates swung open but before Wren could reach Tor, Elske bounded into the courtyard and pounced on Wren.
Wren laughed as she fell, blinking up at those beautiful blue eyes. ‘Well, hello to you, too, sweetling.’
Elske licked her face in greeting. Then at a word from Tor, the wolf leaped off Wren and ambled into the palace, as if the entire place belonged to her.
Tor offered his hand to Wren. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
She grinned as she took it. ‘You’re right on time.’
He looked her up and down, his breath catching. ‘You look …’
‘Gevran?’ said Wren, tracing a swirl of silver thread on her bodice.
‘Beautiful.’ He frowned at her feet. ‘And barefoot. Why are you barefoot?’
‘Because I simply couldn’t spend another moment without you.’
His face softened. ‘I know the feeling.’
‘You’re not in your uniform, Captain Iversen,’ said Wren.
‘No. Not any more.’
Wren swallowed, overcome by a sudden rush of desire. If the courtyard hadn’t been full of guards, she would have ripped his shirt off right there and then. ‘You’ve travelled such a long way,’ she said, coyly. ‘You must be tired.’
He raised his brows. ‘Now that you mention it, I am exhausted.’
She led him into the palace, both of them exchanging giddy glances and bursting into breathless laughter.
They bumped into Rose in the hallway. ‘A clandestine midnight meeting,’ she said, by way of greeting. ‘How romantic.’ She took a bite of a biscuit, before feeding the other half to Elske, who was already sitting at her feet. Her lips curled. ‘You are most welcome back to Anadawn, Captain Iversen.’
‘It’s just Tor now,’ he said, dipping his chin in thanks.
‘I see.’ Rose grinned, flicking her gaze to Wren. ‘Well, perhaps you might find yourself a new position soon enough, Tor. In the meantime, I think I’ll take dear Elske on a stroll around the palace. It’s been far too long since we’ve seen each other.’
‘Thank you,’ said Wren, tugging Tor with her, up one flight of stairs and then another, until they reached the west tower. Wren shut her bedroom door behind them and stood with her back against it, feeling suddenly nervous.
Tor stood across from her in a puddle of moonlight.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she murmured. ‘I might melt.’
He held her gaze. ‘I am yours to command, Wren.’
‘Do you mean it?’
He nodded. ‘It’s been that way long before tonight.’
She heaved a breath. ‘Take off your clothes.’
He removed his sword, tossing it aside. And his boots, one and then another.
Wren swallowed. ‘Don’t forget your shirt.’
‘As you wish.’
Wren’s breath fluttered as he undid the top button of his shirt. ‘Wait.’
He froze. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s you. This. Us.’ Wren’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, but she couldn’t go another minute without knowing what he wanted, what lay beyond the promise of tonight. ‘Why have you come here?’
He blinked in confusion. ‘Don’t you know?’
‘I mean, what will you do after tonight?’ she said. ‘Will you leave again?’
He held her gaze, showing her the full storm of his desire. ‘What would you have me do, Wren?’ he said, hoarsely.
‘Stay,’ she said. ‘I would have you stay.’
He blew out a breath.
Embarrassment roared in her ears. ‘Unless you intend to return to Gevra. I don’t wish to—’
‘I intend to stay.’ He dropped his hands, leaving his shirt half open. ‘I won’t pretend I didn’t come here for you, Wren. That I didn’t dream of your face every night this past month, imagining all the things I wanted to say to you, all the things I wanted to do with you. But I’m no fool. I know you’re a queen and your kingdom must come first. You have duties that extend far beyond …’ He trailed off, searching for the right word.
‘Love?’ said Wren.
He smiled. ‘I only mean that Elske and I intend to make our own way in this kingdom. You don’t owe us anything. We will find our place.’
Wren understood, then. Tor had come to Eana because he loved her, but he did not wish to burden her with his presence either. Even now, after giving up everything he knew in Gevra, he was putting her needs ahead of his own, slowing his pace to match hers.
But Wren wanted to run headlong into love with Tor. Into forever. And she wanted him to know it.
‘What if your place is here at Anadawn?’ she said. ‘With me?’
He drew a breath, hope catching in the air between them.
‘You know, there are beasts in Eana, too,’ she went on. ‘Great brown bears and hunting wolves. Mountain lions and the most magnificent elk. I was thinking we could start training them. It would do no harm to strengthen our army, especially after the events of the last several months.’ She bit her lip, suddenly worried that he might rebuff the idea, that she had made a fool of herself for even suggesting it. ‘That is, of course, if you knew a wrangler that might be—’
‘I know a wrangler.’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘I’ve always thought you looked particularly good in green.’
‘Didn’t you know?’ he said, coming towards her. ‘Green is my favourite colour.’
‘Oh?’ she said, looking up at him. ‘Since when?’
‘Since you, Wren.’
She smiled, seized by another rush of heat. ‘I think I’m done talking.’
‘That makes two of us.’ Tor was upon her in three strides, grabbing her waist and pressing her back against the door. He seized her mouth, brushing his tongue against hers. She groaned, reluctantly breaking the kiss to hitch his shirt up. He tore it off, flinging it into the fireplace. The flames hissed as they devoured it.
‘Oops,’ he whispered against her lips.
Wren summoned a gust, deftly putting the flames out. ‘Shirts are overrated,’ she said, kissing him again.
‘So are gowns.’ His hands found the swell of her breasts then moved impatiently to her corset. He plucked at the laces, ripping them apart one by one. He gave a frustrated huff. ‘Why must they be so damn complicated?’
Wren rose to her tiptoes to give him better access, trailing kisses along his neck. He stiffened against her, his fingers grappling hopelessly with her corset. ‘This is torture.’
Wren smiled, tracing his earlobe with her tongue. ‘Isn’t that the Gevran way?’
His eyes glinted at her words. ‘I’ll show you the Gevran way.’ He pulled a dagger from his waistband, his free hand rising to cup the back of her neck. ‘Don’t move,’ he said, as he deftly sliced through the binds of her corset. It fell away in one piece and he groaned again, tossing aside the knife and coming to his knees before her. A growl rumbled in his throat as he tugged the rest of her dress down, pressing a kiss just below her naval. Wren’s knees trembled as he stood to unfasten his trousers. The world blurred around them as they came back together, Tor kissing her, wildly, madly, as he lifted her from the puddle of her skirts. Wren wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bed.
He set her down, gently, taking a moment to drink her in. ‘My Wren,’ he murmured, as she pulled him down on top of her.
After, when they lay blissfully spent in each other’s arms, Tor trailed his fingers through her hair. ‘After all these years of war, I have finally found my peace,’ he said. ‘You are the only cause I will ever need, Wren.’
Wren closed her eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. ‘I love you, Tor. To the end of this life and beyond.’
Tor grinned, his hand coming to his chest as if she had shot an arrow through his heart. ‘Say it again, Wren.’
She laughed as she climbed on top of him. ‘I love you, Tor Iversen.’
He gazed up at her, utterly lovestruck. ‘Show me.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Wren, leaning down to kiss him.