Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, Wren woke in a strange bed to a deafening crash accompanied by Alaric swearing viciously.

  She saw him in her periphery, throwing a glance her way. “I woke you, didn’t I?” he laughed.

  She nodded absently, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She felt his eyes on her as she took in her surroundings.

  It was messy, for a prince’s bedroom. She didn’t know why, but the room just felt like Alaric. The early morning sunlight filtering in through the windows and glass doors that led out to his balcony, combined with the books scattered around put a small smile on her face.

  Alaric walked to the bed and sat down on the edge near Wren. She avoided his gaze, picking at the sheets instead, trying not to think about how she’d failed her escape attempt.

  And now she was back here, trapped.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, ducking his head to try to meet her gaze.

  Wren turned away, kicking off the sheets and moving to the opposite side of the bed, swinging her feet to the floor.

  It hit her then that she was in the Crown Prince’s rooms. In his bed.

  Three hells and gods save me.

  She put her hands on her head, inhaling and exhaling in deep breaths.

  Alaric circled around the bed to her. “Hey.”

  She looked at him then, his sea green eyes piercing. “You didn’t—I mean, we weren’t—”

  His smile spelled out the word benevolent. “I made use of the settee.”

  She nodded, reassured. Wren pushed the hair out of her face, biting her lip. “Um, I should probably go. Dahlia will be looking for me.”

  “Just… I’m here if you need me, Kerensa.” His words were emphasized with a weighted glance.

  “I know,” Wren expressed, rolling her eyes slightly. He chuckled as she walked past him, but instead of heading to the door to the hall, she turned to the glass doors on her left. Opening them, she walked through and took in the morning scene.

  A gentle breeze kissed her cheeks, the sun warmed her skin, and a clear, blue sky panned out above her. Wren sighed, closing her eyes briefly.

  “What are you doing?”

  Alaric’s voice interrupted her peaceful moment.

  With a groan, she refused to answer him. She strode to the edge of the platform and assessed the distance to the ground. She sucked on a tooth—it was much higher than her balcony.

  It wasn’t quite as high as when she’d jumped off the castle wall last night, but then again, she had no desire to ever experience that again.

  Alaric came up beside her. “I thought you were leaving,” he stated.

  “I am,” she quipped back at him.

  He paused a moment, looking between her and the edge of the railing. His eyes widened as he realized her intent. “You aren’t going to jump.”

  “No,” she divulged, “but I am going to scale that wall.” Wren pointed to the right, where thick vines covered the brick of the palace exterior.

  “You can’t be serious,” Alaric scoffed.

  Wren hopped up onto the railing, balancing her weight carefully, before replying to him, “Do I look like I’m kidding?” She grabbed hold of the thickest vine she could find. “After all, I am a thief, Prince.” She threw a smirk over her shoulder at a dumbfounded Alaric and pushed off the railing.

  Bracing her feet against the wall, Wren gripped the vine with both hands, praying it could support her weight. Cautiously, she began to repel herself down to the ground.

  She’d averted having to leave through his door for the simple reason of court gossip. She knew there were eyes and ears everywhere, and the last thing she needed was for someone to see her leaving the Crown Prince’s chamber in the morning, least of all the guards who were surely positioned at his door. So, being as stubborn as she was, Wren had chosen the hard way out.

  Suddenly her hand slipped on the vine, and she was descending rapidly for a split second before she regained her control. Wren paused a second to catch her breath and slow her racing heart. She looked down to examine the height from where she clung to the vines to the stone below her. She lowered herself down a bit more before launching off the wall and landing in a crouch on the ground.

  Wren stood up, her hands red and a smug smile on her face.

  ༺═──────────────═༻

  She made her way through Farrador Castle, trying to find her room again.

  She huffed in frustration after passing the same statue for the fifth time. There was only one room down this corridor, two massive doors flung open for entry.

  Curious and ready to admit defeat, she sauntered up to it and peeked inside.

  High vaulted ceilings provided the space for tall shelves stacked with books on either side of the enormous chamber. Straight ahead lay a long desk, and down the middle of the library were tables for use.

  Her footsteps echoed in the cavernous place as she ventured inside. Looking around, she found the library empty, save for a few acolytes busying themselves with sorting and dusting books.

  She turned down the left side of the hall, wandering further and further through the shelves. The farther she strayed, the older the texts appeared—and the dustier, too. This far, Wren could no longer see the entrance, or any acolytes, for that matter. She picked an aisle at random and drifted down it.

  She ran her fingers along worn books, the titles barely discernible anymore. Dust and grime from years past collected beneath her nails. Wren kept moving forward until her hand stilled on one particular volume.

  Its spine was coated with dust to the point of opacity. Removing the book from its place on the shelf, she carefully brushed it off, revealing a deep blue cover and no title but a single symbol stamped in the center of the cover, outlined in bronze. Overall, the book appeared to be in immaculate condition.

  Wren pulled the necklace she’d received from Helena out from underneath her shirt. The now familiar knotted circles shimmered in her hand.

  She looked back to study the symbol on the book: one large circle with four smaller circles connected inside of it.

  The necklace and the stamp on the cover were identical.

  Wren laid her pendant back to its place against her breastbone and took the book to a table in the middle of the hall. Resting it on the wood, she flipped it open to the middle, stopping on the first page it fell to.

  Staring back at her was Rianna, the goddess of death.

  The image depicted Rianna sitting on a throne, a mauve dress spilled around her. Her long brown hair fell past her chest, and a bejeweled diadem circled her head. Rianna’s eyes shone as gold as the blood beneath Wren’s skin. The scripture underneath her picture read: ‘Mother Rianna, goddess of our death, our magic, and witches as a whole.’

  Witches? she thought.

  Wren scanned the rest of the page, but most of the writing was in the ancient language Erese, which she couldn’t read. She skipped a few more pages and landed on one with an image of the symbol represented on the cover and her pendant. She roved over the words, catching a few in Common, like witch and magic and Ravyn.

  Underneath the symbol on this page, the text read simply: ‘The Ravyn Shield’.

  Wren slammed the book shut.

  This was a book about witches.

  She rushed to return it back to its place on the shelf, her mind racing.

  What was a book about Ravyn witches doing in a Lithian library? The Farrador Castle library, to be clear. Lithians had eradicated all texts and manuscripts and volumes that spoke about magic five hundred years ago, after they’d won the War of Seven Battles against the Ravyn witches.

  Questions swam in her head. But perhaps the most important one rose to the surface.

  How did it get here?

  Part Two

  † ~ †

  Ruled by Men

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ambria Ellymae sat at the dinner table in her family’s enormous townhouse, listening to her little brothers bicker back and forth.

  She made the time to have dinner with her parents and brothers every week ever since she’d moved out to live with Mateo shortly after their wedding. And when her older brother, Kai, had flounced off with ideals of adventure, she’d consequently become more worried about her mother and father, increasing her visits to twice a week instead.

  And for the second time this week, Lord Quincy Ellymae did not appear for dinner.

  “Your father is incredibly busy, Bri,” her mother had tried to explain. “He is trying to find your brother to bring him back.”

  As much as she wanted to tell her parents that Kai was back, Kai was in the city, Ambria resisted.

  If he doesn’t show up by the end of the night, I will drag him here myself.

  She pushed her food around on her plate, her appetite suddenly gone.

  Her mother, Lilivere Ellymae, was in the midst of diffusing Maro and Nico’s quarrel when Nico launched mashed potatoes at Maro, but instead they hit Ambria square on the cheek.

  The twins froze, their argument immediately forgotten. A beat of shocked silence passed, then Maro and Nico hung their heads and said in unison, “Sorry, Bri.”

  Ambria laughed airily and smiled. “It’s alright,” she reassured her brothers cheerily. “I’ll just go clean up in the kitchen.” She pushed her chair back and stood.

  Lilivere stood with her. “I’ll help,” she offered sympathetically. She turned to the twins and added, “Behave yourselves.”

  Ambria followed her mother to the spacious kitchen to the right of the dining room. She propped herself up onto the counter while her mother wet a towel in the sink. Lilivere positioned herself in front of Ambria and lifted the towel to her face to wipe away the mess on her cheek.

  Bri was often told that she was the spitting image of her mother. The two of them shared white-blonde waves, diamond shaped faces, violet eyes, and the same smiles, dimpled on the right side.

  Lilivere had been bred as a gentle lady, born to marry the son of a High House. Ambria’s mother’s upbringing had been like everything else in this world; ruled by men, taught to obey their every word.

  Ambria, however, had other beliefs about her world.

  Her mother smiled at her kindly. “How is Mateo?”

  “He’s good,” Bri said, returning the warm expression.

  Lilivere put down the towel, Bri’s face clean once more. “And how are you, dear Ambria?” she inquired, tilting her head slightly.

  Ambria sighed. She used to be able to tell her mother anything, but now her secrets were piling one on top of the other—between Kai and even her life with Mateo… There were just some things that were better kept quiet. “I worry, Ma. About you and Father.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I just wish there was something more I could do.”

  “Oh, Bri,” her mother murmured, raising Bri’s head with a hand under her chin. “You have your own life to worry about now. Your husband is preparing to become Lord of House Norwood, you have a new lady to tutor at court—and not just any lady, the Crown Prince’s Cebrevenese bride. Not to mention that I expect grandchildren in my lifetime, my dear.”

  “Ma!” Bri exclaimed incredulously. “Mateo and I have barely been married a year!”

  “I’m just saying,” Lady Ellymae teased with a wink, “I’m not getting any younger.” Together, mother and daughter laughed. And then Lilivere’s face grew a little more serious. “You do want children, though? With him?” she surmised.

  Ambria thought about the implication for a moment, imagining her home filled with joy and laughter, raising children with the love of her life. A little girl, with Mateo’s white hair and her violet eyes, and a small boy, Bri’s white-blonde curls atop his head and Mateo’s cornflower blue eyes.

  She smiled and decided that was exactly the future she wanted. “Yes, Ma. I want that very much.”

  Her mother beamed, purple eyes crinkling.

  They heard commotion outside the kitchen, shouts of greeting and one voice in particular standing out. Lilivere and Ambria exchanged a bewildered look before her mother took off out the kitchen door, Bri following closely behind.

  They came out into the dining room and there he was.

  Kai, crouched in the entryway to address his brothers, looked up as Ambria’s mother froze in the door frame.

  “Kai?” Lilivere murmured disbelievingly.

  Her brother stood, straightening his slightly wrinkled gray ensemble. “It’s me, Ma,” he whispered audibly. “I’m—I’m back.”

  Their mother burst into tears right there and rushed forward to throw her arms around him. His arms came around her in return.

  Ambria let out a light breath, relief washing over her. He’s here.

  Lilivere pulled back to look at Kai. “Let me go get your father. He will be immensely solaced.” She hurried away, calling for Quincy.

  Ambria approached her elder brother and smacked him over the head. Kai yelped and rubbed the spot.

  “That,” she snarled, “is for being late.” Bri glowered at him another moment before rising onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “That’s for showing up at all.”

  Kai chuckled and pulled her into his chest, Maro and Nico joining their embrace. Ambria and her brothers stayed enveloped in each other for several minutes, the siblings reunited at last.

  “Kai.”

  Ambria leaned away from her brothers to peek around Kai, to where her father stood. Quincy’s fair hair was tousled, his shirt half untucked, a black jacket thrown over his shoulders precariously. His mouth was slightly parted in surprise, brows drawn together. Her father’s blue-gray eyes, however, held only hope.

  Kai spun around, bowing his head at the sight of Quincy. “Father.”

  Quincy walked right up to Kai and studied him from head to toe. Lilivere, Bri, and the twins stood frozen, holding a collective breath.

  Their father drew Kai forward in an embrace, the tension in the room deflating with the gesture.

  Quincy withdrew from Kai, gripping his shoulders. Addressing their family, he said, “Come sit. We have much to discuss.” Kai nodded, and everyone followed Quincy into the sitting room. Bri ushered her younger brothers in after their mother.

  Seating herself on the cushion beside her mother, Ambria clasped her hands in her lap, wincing inwardly at the ensuing silence as her brother and father settled themselves in opposing chairs. Maro and Nico took up places on the rug.

  Lilivere’s voice cut through the stillness of the room. “Kai, sweetheart, why don’t you tell us of your… expeditions?”

  Kai shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Perhaps another time, Ma. I understand we have more pressing matters to consider,” he ventured, glancing curtly at Bri.

  Two beats of quiescence passed.

  “Very well,” Quincy drawled. “House Ellymae is in a state of disorder. With your sudden departure, the predicament of our hierarchy has been severely affected. As of now, our High House has no heir, or, in other words, no future. The twins are not yet eighteen, signifying neither are eligible as heir within the year of my withdrawal.” Their father delivered the news sombrely. Kai stared at his hands.

  I’m eligible to be heir of House Ellymae, Ambria couldn’t help but add in her head, but, according to this kingdom, I don’t meet certain qualifications.

  “However,” Quincy continued with renewed reverence, “as you have come home, things may turn around for the better. You can be declared heir, prepare to take over the House, and your mother can assist you in procuring a wife.” Bri’s father grinned, placated with this news.

  Her mother clapped her hands together. “I’ll pour some drinks. We must celebrate!” she declared, rising from the settee.

  Ambria couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t seen her parents this happy since Kai had left.

  She glanced at her brother. He was slumped forward in his chair, his head in his hands now. Bri watched him take a deep breath before he raised his head, arms braced on his knees.

  “Father,” Kai emitted, voice low as if he were struggling with himself. Their parents’ attention was redirected to their eldest son. Ambria noticed his hands shaking in front of him.

  Her heartbeat picked up pace in her chest, like everything she’d ever known was suspended on the edge of a cliff.

  Finally, Kai choked out, “I’m abdicating.”

  And the whole world stopped.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Five days after Kerensa had practically leaped from his room, Alaric was rifling through statements from members of his father’s Privy Council, namely Lord Eason Callaway of High House Callaway. His were rather obnoxious and loud claims of the gods knew what.

  If he was completely honest, Alaric was fed up with the Privy Council and their politics.

  Tossing the stack of papers onto the desk, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. Blowing out a breath, Alaric opened his eyes at the same moment she walked in.

  Bursting through the door, Kerensa plopped herself onto his divan, snatching one of the pillows to release a long, muffled scream into it.

  Alaric couldn’t help but chuckle, stalking over to remove the pillow from her face. Kerensa let him take it grudgingly, falling backward into the cushions. He sat down in the plush chair beside her, placing the pillow behind him. “What was that for?” he exalted questioningly.

  “I hate this ridiculous court,” was all she offered.

  Alaric raised an eyebrow, contemplating whether or not to pry. “Care to share the details to unknowing parties?”

  Kerensa answered with a curt, “No.”

  “If that’s what you prefer,” he conceded with a nod. Alaric tilted his head, taking a moment to study her. She was clothed in an enchanting blue-green dress made of chiffon; the single strap draped over her shoulder. It was cinched at the waist by a rope of silver gems, and the colour faded in an ombre down to her toes. Her dark brown hair hung loose down to her waist, which seemed to be how she favoured it. Kohl lined her copper eyes—the only cosmetics she wore today.