How convenient. Thinking fast, as the shadowed form passed, Wren slipped behind him, her feet silent. She trailed him down the tunnels, waiting for the right moment. Suddenly another one appeared, and her mark became easily distracted.

  “How’s the witch fairing?” the new stranger inquired.

  Her mark chuckled, “As worse as we can hope for.”

  They continued their camaraderie while unbeknownst to either of them, the witch—as they so insisted on calling her—swiped the cloak right off his back. Wren darted away in the little time she had before he noticed the missing weight on his shoulders.

  She clasped it around her neck, catching the glint of an unfamiliar symbol over the breast patch, one of a sword driven through what appeared to be the Lithian crown. Wren brushed it off; she didn’t have the time to dwell on things like that right now. Right now, she had to get out of here.

  Wren winded her way through the cavernous corridors, afraid she was just getting more and more lost, going around in circles.

  Until she saw the light at the end of one tunnel. She raced for it, tripping over the cloak and her own feet.

  When she broke through the exit, she was faced with blindingly white snow and a very large expanse of land.

  She smiled at the beauty of being outside, basking in the sun even as she continued to bleed from her wrists. Wren looked at them again, the marred and bloody skin. The cuts should have healed already; they weren’t that deep.

  If they were still bleeding now, that must have meant that she had left an easy trail to follow inside the caves. Which meant she had to go. Now.

  Wren started walking without direction, her only goal to put as much distance between herself and the mountains as possible. The cold seeped in without hesitation, causing lethargy to weigh in her bones.

  She would never make it to help.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Ric and Gray galloped across Lithera once more, in search of any hint of Wren.

  They were heading further north, past Kingrave and towards the city of Vand. They’d recruited Leander and Hendry to go south, to see if they could find any trace of Wren that way.

  Ric knew that she wasn’t in the south, though. Knew in his bones that Wren was in grave danger, but the question of where she was remained, tugging at his heartstrings.

  He hadn’t paused or taken a single moment to try and talk to his supposed father. He wasn’t entirely sure what good would come of it, anyway. “Do you think they were ever going to tell me?”

  Gray bristled. “My honest opinion? I don’t think they ever intended for you to find out, no.”

  “And then what would have happened if I ascended the throne? By law, it is no longer my right.” He felt his throat begin to close up. “Where do I belong now?”

  “That’s something you’re going to have to figure out yourself,” Gray said fervently.

  Ric waited a long minute before professing, “It makes me wonder who my real parents were. If they’re even still alive. If they gave me away or if I was taken from them.” These were the questions eating away at him, the questions he might never know the answers to.

  Out of nowhere, his vision flashed, showing the face of the white-haired woman he’d met in his dreamscape. It was all over in a second. He winced, drawing back as a shot of pain went through his head.

  “Ric? Are you okay?” Gray frowned as Ric placed a hand on his forehead.

  “Yes, I—I’m fine,” he stuttered.

  Gray cocked his head, and Ric could tell he was still wary. Then Gray squinted past him, to the towering peaks of Kingrave. He pointed over Ric’s shoulder. “What’s that?”

  Ric spun his horse, narrowing his eyes against the blaring white. Far away, a dark figure staggered through the snow, away from the mountains. “I don’t know,” he replied, spurring his horse into a steady gait. Gray stayed close behind.

  The form ahead toppled down into the snow, and Ric pushed his horse faster. No.

  When he was close enough, he pulled on the reins, his horse skidding to a stop. He leapt out of the saddle and ran the rest of the way to her.

  He fell to his knees and pulled Wren to him, not even registering the wet snow seeping through his pants.

  She was covered in unnatural gold blood, trembling from the cold, her lips blue. He lifted one of her frozen hands to his cheek, the sensation shockingly frigid. “Gods,” he mumbled. He scooped her into his arms, rising to stand and walking back towards the horses, where Gray had dismounted, mouth agape in horror. Ric handed Wren to him so he could get on his horse, then Gray lifted her up into Ric’s arms.

  Wren gripped him close, opening her mouth to croak, “Ric—”

  He gently hushed her. “Everything is going to be okay, Wren. I promise.”

  Ric started up his horse, pushing it faster and harder towards Evaleer.

  ༺═──────────────═༻

  Wren must have passed out while Alaric held her on his horse, galloping at breakneck speed for the capital. Because the next thing she knew she was waking on a cot in a small stone room. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, growing accustomed to the artificial light inside.

  “Hey,” whispered a lovely voice beside her. Wren turned her head to look at Ric. Tears welled in her eyes right then. His face fell, frantic. “What is it? Are you alright?”

  She bobbed her head up and down, the tears threatening to spill. “Alaric—”

  “Just Ric,” he interrupted softly. “Just Ric right now.”

  Confusion flitted through her mind, but she brushed it away because he was here. He had found her and saved her life.

  A woman who couldn’t be much older than Wren poked her head into the room, her wavy red brown hair falling down her shoulder. She smiled tenderly at Wren. “You’re awake. I’ll tell Miss Esme,” she said before disappearing once again.

  Wren stared after her. “Ric, where are we?”

  “A local apothecary in Evaleer. I wouldn’t risk bringing you to the castle infirmary. Why?”

  “Because I know her, and she knows me,” she told him, heart pounding. “I… The king ordered me to heal her father a few weeks after I was brought to Farrador Castle. It was a test to my abilities, and unfortunately, I passed.”

  She watched Ric’s eyes grow. “She hasn’t said anything,” he mumbled. “At least, not to me.”

  The girl came back with an older woman in tow, who Wren assumed must be Miss Esme. Straight black hair framed her lined face, an apron tied around her tiny waist. “Ah, she has woken!” the old woman exclaimed, gesturing with a hand towards Wren. “You are looking much better than when you came in here, my dear. You should be free to leave in a few hours.” Miss Esme smiled broadly, looking between Ric and Wren. Ric tilted his head toward the door. The old woman nodded, still smiling. She placed a wily hand on the young woman’s back. “Come, Zara, we should let the couple have a moment alone.”

  The girl—Zara—was willingly led out of the tight room, but not before she threw one last glance over her shoulder and gifted Wren a subtle nod.

  Wren relaxed infinitesimally. But when she looked at Ric, his expression held only concern. Wren froze. “What is it?” she ventured tentatively.

  “I made a vow to protect you,” Ric opened slowly. “And I don’t intend on breaking it.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Distress blossomed in her stomach.

  “I won’t let the king hold you prisoner any longer. I can’t stand putting you in that kind of danger.” He paused. “We are leaving the continent, Wren.”

  She scrambled into a sitting position. “What do you mean we? You can’t seriously think you can come with me?” She swallowed as she pushed out, “You’re the Crown Prince—”

  “I’m not.” Ric looked away from her. “You know I’m not,” he indulged.

  Her heart stopped.

  “I’m not the heir to Lithera, Wren. The king and queen adopted me, but you already know that because I found the information in your bedroom.”

  She blinked back her tears.

  “How long have you known?”

  “Not long,” she swore, choking on a sob. “Please, you have to believe me, Ric. I wouldn’t have—I couldn’t have kept that from you. I was trying to figure out how to tell you.” She waited a minute before adding, “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand why you did it. All of it. Though that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you hadn’t.” He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Since I no longer have any responsibilities or ties to this kingdom, I will not stay here without you.” He looked her directly in the eyes, his gaze intense. “I will follow you anywhere, Wren.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she nodded her understanding, disbelieving that even after everything she’d kept from him, he still wanted her. He leaned in to brush her tears away and press a delicate kiss to her forehead. “Gray and Bri are waiting outside with our things. I’ll be right back.”

  ༺═──────────────═༻

  Ric left the small building with a little, enclosed garden attached to the side and walked up to his two best friends, Gray holding the reins to two horses and Bri beside him, her hands clasped together in front of her. He pulled them both in for a long hug.

  Ambria pulled away first. “When you reach Vand, Kai will be waiting at the port with a ship,” she informed him. Ric nodded gratefully. “Where will you go?”

  “To Cebrev, I think. I have friends there,” Ric reassured.

  Her lip quivered slightly. “Just don’t die and—and come home soon, okay?”

  He reeled her back into another hug. “Okay,” he said against her blonde hair.

  Ric turned to Gray. His best friend. His brother.

  “Do what you have to, Ric,” he told him. “We’ll be here when you get back.” Gray smiled sadly and clapped Ric on the back. He jutted his chin towards the little garden. “Now go get her,” he pushed, winking.

  Ric pivoted to see Wren seated on a bench surrounded by winter blooms. He strode over to her and sat down next to her. “Wren.” He waited until she looked at him to continue, “What I said when we last talked, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that—”

  “Ric.”

  “—and when you admitted what you did, I just felt so angry at everything—”

  “Ric.”

  “—but I realized that I don’t care. Kerensa or Wren, I love you. And if this is who you are—"

  “I love you.”

  “—then I will spend the rest of my life fighting to protect you until we have found a safe life. Together.” He jolted when she placed her hand on his arm.

  Wren laughed. “Did you not hear me?”

  “Hear what?” Ric queried, bewildered.

  “I love you,” she said.

  He stared at her for what seemed like forever. “You do?”

  “Gods, just kiss me, you idiot,” Wren sighed, pressing her lips to his.

  Ric held her there until they both ran out of breath, the feeling magical and like no other. “You love me,” he breathed.

  She hummed against his mouth. “And you love me.” Wren pulled back, looking him over.

  It was in that moment that he remembered what he still carried in his pocket, carefully taking it out to hold it in his palm. “I found it on the floor of your bedroom and fixed it myself. I…I thought carrying it with me might help bring me to you.” He lifted up the delicate chain, offering it to her.

  She smiled, tears glistening on her lower lashes. “I thought I’d lost it.”

  “May I?” he proposed.

  Wren nodded, twisting so he could link the sun necklace back in its place around her neck. She touched it with two fingers, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “You can come with me on one condition, Prince.”

  “Not a prince,” Ric bemused. “But please, continue.”

  She ignored him. “I still get to call you my husband.”

  He was taken aback, surprised by her request, but it soon passed as he watched her. She looked so happy. “As long as I can still call you my wife,” he negotiated teasingly.

  “It’s a deal,” she said before kissing him breathless again.

  Wren and Alaric’s journey continues in

  Book Two of the

  League of Blood

  Series

  Acknowledgements

  When you set out to write a book, no one tells you just how hard it's going to be. But no one tells you just how many people will be by your side to make it a bit easier, either. Bear with me while I try to thank them all.

  First of all, to you, dear reader. A writer cannot become an author without those interested in their stories. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart for picking up my book, whether you discovered it through social media, a friend, or found your way to it on your own. Every single one of you matter so much to me.

  To my bestest friend in the whole world and brilliant cover artist, Maya Lucas, how could I ever thank you enough? The first person I ever shared any of this with, sitting on a pair of swings in a schoolyard one random evening when we were fourteen (maybe thirteen, I’m not sure). Your shared love for this story and these char-acters is one of the things that keeps me writing about them. I love you so much, to whatever end.

  And to Mia Bestvater and Phoebe Moski, who joined this wild and a little crazy ride right off the bat, too. Your undying support means more than the universe to me.

  To everyone I met through my writing account on Instagram, I truly never would have made it this far without all of you. Very special shoutout to Betty, Róza, Ro, Lily, Jorja, Perse, HJ, Calliope, Maya, Sailor, Lu, and every soul that has sent me such beautiful and encouraging messages.

  Special thanks to the people who walked this road with me during the first Propel semester in 2022-2023: Havana Jackson, Hillary Wortley, Selina Hay, Mikaela Young, Cadence Langan, Darren Igben, Milo Anderson, Carter Collignon, Ben Crowe, Lily Gautron, Kallan Kujanpaa, Aléxa Marinelli, James Mosher, Keyshawn Otegbade, Summer Polo, Michel Pulgar-Vidal. And extra special thanks to our teacher, Patrick Hansen, for using your Photoshop wizardry on my cover art and for reminding me to "be like water". This was an incredible experience that I will never forget.

  To Sasha Gros, Sam Eagles, and Taryn Rigg—the rest of our girlbosses squad—thank you so much for being more supportive than the last people I tried to share this passion with, back when it was just an idea. You are my hype girls, through and through.

  To my family, thank you for your continued support and unbinding love while I chase my dreams. I hope I’m making you proud.

  And a final thanks to my amazing boyfriend, Grayson Rudy. I've rewritten this paragraph in my mind more times than I could count, and I think the basis of what I want to say is this: This book talks a lot about fate, and I know you don't exactly believe in that kind of thing, but I find myself often questioning if some form of fate conspired for us to find each other again. Though you don't read often, thank you for listening to my nonsense rants at any time of day and for helping me brainstorm ideas, mostly in the middle of the night. And who knows? Maybe my books will change your mind. Either way, I still love you. More than you could know.

  About The Author

  Queenie A. Marie

  Raised on fantasy books and imaginative play, Queenie A. Marie has been writing for the better part of ten years, though it wasn't until 2020 that she de-cided to tackle her first full novel. She currently writes young adult fantasy in any spare time she can find, aspiring to one day have #1 New York Times Bestselling author on the cover of her books.

  queenieamarie.carrd.co

 

 

  Queenie A. Marie, Flame of the Blood: A League of Blood Novel

 

 

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