CHAPTER 73 Wren
Wren
‘Poison is often treated with poison. Venom is used to counter venom. There’s a certain poetry in this symmetry’
– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations
IN THE DAYS that followed, it became clear that what little had remained of Delmira’s capital had been destroyed.
The air was still thick with the scents of smoke and blood, and the faint trace of chemicals that lingered from exploding alchemy.
The medical tents were full of those wounded in battle.
Knowing that her skill set was needed there, Wren delegated the handling of prisoners to Kipp and Torj, while she, Dessa and Zavier joined Farissa and a handful of other healers who’d made themselves known to deal with the casualties of war.
Every dawn, a list was brought to her, naming those who hadn’t survived the night.
Wren forced herself to read every name, to write to their families herself, to remember that the people of the midrealms who’d fallen were not just numbers on a piece of parchment.
They had been people who believed in her claim enough to die for it, and that lit a fire beneath her, to see that right was done in the world.
‘Your Majesty,’ a young messenger said with a bow as he handed her that day’s list.
She still wasn’t used to the title; it felt foreign, and she often caught herself suppressing the urge to look over her own shoulder, searching for someone more regal than she.
‘Thank you,’ she replied as she took the scroll.
As much as she had played the part of alchemist and healer over the past few days, she knew that time was coming to an end.
She told herself that she was both queen and alchemist, and that perhaps that was exactly what her people needed – a leader who understood both the cost of war and the price of healing.
‘Have you slept?’ Torj’s voice came from the tent flap.
Wren huffed a tired laugh and motioned to the purple smudges beneath her eyes, her bloodstained apron. ‘Not so much.’
‘I didn’t think so.’ He pressed a hot canteen into her cold hands. ‘Drink that.’
Removing the cap, she stifled a moan as she smelled the steam drifting from the liquid. ‘Peppermint and ginger?’ she asked, taking a grateful sip.
Torj nodded. ‘Dessa told me it would help with the fatigue.’
Wren smiled at the thought of her great Bear Slayer discussing herbs with her friend. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m afraid you’re going to need it.’ Torj guided her to a seat, gently pushing her down into it.
Wren’s stomach bottomed out. ‘Oh?’
‘We’ve had word from Darian.’
‘Is he alright?’
‘He writes on behalf of his father . . .’ Torj said slowly. ‘Lord Lucian wants an audience with you, to plead for a pardon.’
Wren blinked, her tea forgotten. ‘What?’
‘He insists that Silas had some kind of mind control over him and King Leiko, similar to what Artos used on Leiko during the shadow war. That they were forced to help him . . .’
Wren brought a hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose to alleviate some of the pain blooming behind her eyes. ‘What does Darian say?’
‘Nothing,’ Torj replied. ‘He simply relayed his father’s message, and Lucian’s intent to speak with you in private.’
Wren nodded. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow.’
She laughed at that. ‘Doesn’t sound like a request, does it?’
‘We both know that’s not in Lucian’s nature,’ Torj said. ‘Kipp’s had reports of forces gathering at the Devereux estate. Regardless of his claims, his influence is undeniable.’
‘And do you believe his story about mind control?’ Wren asked with a raised brow.
‘Not for a second. You?’
‘I trust that bastard as far as I could throw him.’
‘I thought you might say that.’ There was a hint of a smile on Torj’s lips as he ducked out of the tent, only to return with a square box.
Wren set the canteen aside and stood. ‘What’s that?’
Torj slid the box onto the nearby table. ‘Something you’ll be needing before long.’
Opening the box, Wren peered inside, moving the wrappings aside to spot something achingly familiar. She looked up at Torj, whose answering grin was wolfish, and then she laughed. She laughed until she cried.
Wren didn’t know where to start when it came to ruling her kingdom.
Dorinth had been all but razed to the ground, and the broader lands of Delmira had no people, no established regions.
Aveum and Harenth’s forces had begun the march back to their own kingdoms, and the ruins grew emptier by the day.
It would take decades to rebuild. There was a chance the task might not even be completed in her lifetime.
The mere thought was enough to make Wren want to crawl back into bed.
But the next afternoon, she spotted the Devereux banners on the horizon, and steeled herself for what was to come.
Darian rode at Lord Lucian’s side, his face a mask of indifference, but for the slight dip of his chin when he saw Wren.
‘Welcome to Dorinth,’ she greeted the noblemen as their horses reached the fallen gates of the city. ‘It’s my understanding that you seek an audience with me, Lord Lucian?’
‘It is, Your Highness,’ he said, dismounting with a bow.
‘It’s Your Majesty now,’ Torj growled from Wren’s side. ‘Our queen was officially crowned several nights ago.’
Lord Lucian gave another elaborate bow. ‘My apologies, Your Majesty. I am not as up to date with current events as I once was.’
‘Apology accepted,’ Wren replied with a wave of dismissal. ‘If you’ll follow me, we’ve prepared some refreshments for our meeting, though you’ll have to forgive the simplicity. We are still on rations here.’
Wren and her guard led their guests to the makeshift council tent, where Kipp had set up a table and chairs for the occasion. She motioned for her guests to sit as she took her place at the head.
Lord Lucian took the seat at her left side, with Darian to his left. Torj stood just behind Wren, and she could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, vibrating down the bond they shared. She didn’t risk a glance back at the warrior. She had to do this on her own.
‘So, tell me, Lord Lucian,’ she said slowly, ‘why have you sought this meeting?’
‘Your Majesty, I wished to explain my actions in the recent conflict, to provide you with some much-needed background information as to why my forces were not here to defend you.’
‘By all means, continue . . .’
‘As my son outlined in our correspondence to you, both King Leiko and I experienced a fog over our mental capabilities at the hand of the enemy Silas. Without King Leiko’s previous experience, we would not have recognized it at all, but he was able to identify it in the days after battle, once Silas’s hold had loosened. ’
‘I’m familiar with the mind control used over King Leiko in the past,’ Wren replied evenly.
‘You’re sure it was the same? Back then it was a near-lethal combination of sovereign and shadow magic, utilizing the former King of Harenth’s empath abilities .
. . As far as I’m aware, the only person in the midrealms with an inkling of empath ability is Regent Liora, and as a distant relation, her magic is diluted.
Not to mention, she’s an ally of Delmira. ’
Lord Lucian sat back in his chair, seeming to relax as he forged on. ‘King Leiko swears it was of the same ilk – the same symptoms, the same level of control over our mental faculties. We were forced to hold our troops back. Forced to ally with the tyrant.’
‘And this mind control . . . Was it also responsible for your promise of a poison formula that didn’t exist? And that particular taunt that was sent to me via our outposts?’ she asked casually.
Lord Lucian nodded fervently. ‘Yes, the very same. I hope you know I would never wish harm on the midrealms. I have done so much to rebuild it after the shadow war.’
Wren considered him. ‘I’m aware of how much you contributed to the restoration of Tver’s castle.’
‘And I would be willing to do the same for Delmira,’ Lord Lucian added. ‘It would be an honour to see this mighty kingdom restored to its former glory.’
‘A generous offer,’ Wren replied. ‘In exchange for what?’
‘A royal pardon,’ the nobleman said. ‘For all the former . . . indiscretions.’
Wren rapped her fingers against the table. ‘I see.’
‘I hope you do,’ Lord Lucian continued. ‘With my resources behind you, we could have the city of Dorinth rebuilt within five years. We could have it trading with the other kingdoms within a matter of months, particularly given the nature of the land. We could reach out to farmers and agriculturalists from other kingdoms, offering land in exchange—’
‘We?’ Wren interjected.
Lord Lucian placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. ‘Yes, Your Majesty, we. You would have my full support in every avenue of development.’
‘Even though I have no intention of marrying your son?’
‘I would advise against two husbands for the time being, Your Majesty.’
Wren studied him before motioning to Kipp, who brought over the food and drink they’d prepared. ‘It’s a fair proposition, my lord.’
‘Then smile, Queen Elwren. History is being made at this very moment!’ Lord Lucian declared, his chest puffing out as he gestured to his own people, who brought bottles of wine from their supplies. ‘You will have a fully established kingdom at your feet in no time.’
Wren declined the wine offered with a wave of her hand. ‘I’m avoiding such vices while I rebuild my kingdom,’ she told him. ‘Let us toast to our alliance in a simpler manner.’
She watched as the refreshment tray was placed in front of them, and the Lord of Larkwood Valley was handed a small ceramic cup. He blanched at the sight of the teapot before them.
‘I prefer to toast with wine, as is customary,’ he said stiffly.
‘Given all that you’ve been through, I made something special for you,’ Wren said, her voice softening. ‘It’s the same concoction that helped King Leiko all those years ago. It’s a preventative against any empath mind control. You’ll never have your free will taken from you again.’
Relief washed over the nobleman’s face. ‘You’re too kind. I suppose you’ll be drinking this as well, then?’ He leaned forwards, eyes narrowing slightly. ‘You can never be too careful.’
‘Of course, Lord Lucian.’ She lifted her own cup in a gesture of goodwill. ‘I’m always careful.’
And then, Wren did smile.
She smiled as she poured his tea from the Ladies’ Luncheon Teapot.