Wren wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She settled on squeezing Ambria’s hand gratefully.

  She let Ambria guide her to a courtyard outside, breathing in the crisp morning air. Wren had never spent so long trapped inside, having lived in a modest two-room house in Forx. And after trying to stay alive and free in Marawood for two months.

  Though their timing couldn’t have been worse as the one person she’d been hoping to avoid today entered the courtyard at the same time.

  “Your Highness.” Ambria let go of Wren’s arm to drop into a curtsy.

  Prince Alaric gestured for Ambria to stand, greeting her amicably. “Bri.” He turned to Wren and smirked. “Kerensa.”

  Wren crossed her arms, eyes narrowing as she studied his form. He was clad in an elegantly stitched blue tunic detailed with silver thread and perfectly tailored gray pants, his sword dutifully strapped to his hip once more.

  Alaric looked between the two of them with a raised brow. “I’m glad to see you’re getting along.”

  So Ambria and Alaric were close then—closer than Wren had initially thought.

  “You expected any less?” Ambria shot back roguishly.

  Alaric chuckled. “Never, when it comes to you.” He turned on Wren, a look in his eye she didn’t particularly like. “Are you feeling better, Lady?”

  Ambria peered at her with concern now. “You were unwell?”

  Wren glared murderously at Alaric. “No,” she said forcefully, “I’m fine.”

  That godsforsaken eyebrow lifted again. “You didn’t seem fine last night,” he pushed in that irritatingly subtle highborn accent.

  Heat crept up her neck, burning her chest. I’m going to kill him. “Must have just been the long journey. I assure you, Prince, I’m doing much better this morning.”

  “The fresh air will do you good, then,” Alaric withdrew, one of his arrogant grins emerging. “Though I do hope you’re acclimatized to snow. Winter comes fast in Lithera.”

  It was true. The leaves were already beginning to change colour, one of Wren’s favourite times of the year.

  From the stories her pa had told her of the empire across the sea, she knew that it was hot in the southern regions of Cebrev for the majority of the year, the mountains in the north growing slightly cooler than the rest of the continent in the later months.

  “I’ll manage,” she told him.

  Now, his smile turned genuine. “I have no doubt you will.”

  Wren wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

  “I wish I could stay and chat,” Alaric disclosed, “but unfortunately, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Enjoy the rest of your walk, ladies.” His sea green gaze lingered on Wren a moment longer, and then he ducked his head and continued past them.

  “Well,” Ambria began, “that wasn’t so bad.” She turned her head and burst into laughter as soon as she saw Wren’s disgruntled expression. “You’re so dramatic.”

  “I’m dramatic?” she spouted. “I don’t think we were talking to the same person.”

  “Oh please,” Ambria defended. “Yes, he can be an ass at times, but the Crown Prince is truly kind and incredibly charming.” She wavered a minute before going on, her voice a harsh whisper, “And…I think you should know, as his betrothed, that there is another side to him that most never see or would understand. His father doesn’t let him leave the castle grounds, and since his mother died and his brother disappeared, he hasn’t seen the world outside of these walls in nine years. It’s been hard on him, but I’ll let him tell you the rest when he’s ready.” Ambria quickly and seamlessly moved on, asking about her fake-general-father, how the journey went, what will she miss most about Cebrev, and so on.

  But Wren was hardly paying attention, staring after where Prince Alaric and the secrets he kept locked inside had disappeared.

  Chapter Six

  Sweat trickled down the side of Alaric’s face, dripping onto the sand at his feet. He raised his sword, preparing to meet his opponent’s attack.

  Gray sprung forward, slashing his blunt sword. Alaric ducked, rolling away from the strike and jumping back on the balls of his feet in seconds. He stayed on the defensive, trying to predict his friend’s next move.

  Gray hung back now, observing for any weak spots in Alaric’s stance. They began circling each other, waiting for the other to pounce.

  “Come on, Gray. I don’t have all day,” Alaric tried taunting him.

  “That’s right, I forgot,” Gray said as though in realization, “you have a future wife to entertain.”

  “The day I’ll be entertaining to her will be the day you talk to your parents again.”

  Gray clicked his tongue. “It must be hard having about as much humour as a rock.”

  Alaric let his sword fall momentarily, mock hurt playing on his face. “I make you laugh.”

  Gray lunged for the opening Alaric had made, just like he’d hoped. He twisted out of the way, hitting Gray in the side with his dull sword in the process. He attempted to land a hit on Gray’s legs too, but he was too fast, knocking Alaric’s sword hand away with the hilt of his.

  Alaric blocked Gray’s next attack and then prodded for an opportunity that didn’t show. He was met by Gray hit for hit, their swords ending up locked in a cross. Digging his heels into the training ring sand, he pushed his weapon against Gray’s with all his strength. Gray gritted his teeth as he fought back, returning the pressure.

  And then suddenly, Alaric grinned and lessened his force, throwing Gray off balance and disarming him with a flourish of his sword. Gray’s wooden sword landed in the sand six feet away from them, hilt pointing up to the overcast sky.

  Alaric leaned on his own sword still in hand, tip sinking into the ground. “What is that now, four to none?” he speculated aloud, his grin only growing. “I’m afraid you’re getting a little rusty, Lieutenant.”

  Gray rolled his eyes, though a smile curved his mouth. “No, it’s just that you have nothing better to do with your time other than being here, trying to kill yourself.”

  “At least I know it’s paying off,” he shrugged.

  “I wonder if Lady Kerensa could hold her own against you. That would deflate that ego of yours, I think.”

  Alaric wiped his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, toned chest peeking beneath. “Her father’s a general and they don’t do things there the same way we do them here. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s held a weapon before.”

  “Then ask her,” Gray proposed like it was the easiest thing in the world.

  “In three hells,” Alaric scoffed, shooting an incredulous look his way. “No way am I giving that woman even a chance to beat the hells out of me. I like all my body parts where they are, thank you.”

  Gray shook his head, exasperated. “You’re being ridiculous. She isn’t an animal.”

  Alaric crossed his arms. “How would you know? You haven’t met her yet.”

  “She’s just a woman, Ric!”

  “I bet she could breathe fire if she wanted to.” He narrowed his eyes at Gray. “Besides, what do you know about women?”

  “More than you,” he imparted. “I have a little sister.”

  “And you get scared when she cries,” Alaric chuckled.

  Gray clutched at his chest like Alaric just drove his sword through it. “That was low.”

  “Is Eloisa coming, by the way?” Alaric inquired, curious now. Gray had had a falling out with his parents three years ago when he gave up his noble title to join Lithera’s Guard. They hadn’t spoken since, though Gray was still in touch with his younger sister.

  “To the wedding? Probably. Word of your betrothal hasn’t really made it passed the capital yet, though.”

  Alaric sighed. “I’m sure that will be changing soon. Presumably my father has thrown together a banquet of sorts to make the official announcement in five days.”

  “How considerate.” Gray retrieved his sword and followed Alaric to the rack to put it away.

  “Have you…” Alaric hesitated before going on, “…talked to Bri recently?”

  As children, the three of them were always together when they could be, though Alaric lived in Farrador Castle whereas Gray and Ambria grew up in Anulia and Grivelan respectively. Somewhere along the way, though, Gray and Ambria had grown apart, leaving Alaric as the bridge between them that they never crossed.

  He tried to understand their reasons—Gray felt caught up in his duty to Alaric, Captain Larcyn, and the king, while Ambria was married and had obligations of her own to attend to at court as daughter of a High House.

  But that wasn’t to say that it hurt any less.

  Gray gave Alaric a look that said he already knew the answer. “No, our paths don’t cross often anymore.”

  He nodded, sticking his hands under the water pump to wash them and smooth out his hair. Despite the fact that he was the Crown Prince of Lithera, Alaric found himself with more leisure time than anyone else who roamed the palace halls. Yes, he was given reports to file, Privy Council meetings to attend, and less important decisions to sign off on, like accepting shipments of grain or settling an absurd dispute between neighbours. Yet he was never really asked his opinion on dealing with the containment of the plague nor when it came to the Ravyn witches who continued to raid Lithian towns.

  His father was behind it, he was sure. What he didn’t know, though, was whether or not the king restricted his involvement in such affairs because he didn’t think Alaric could handle it or because he was trying to protect him.

  With a map in front of him, he could point out any geographical detail in Lithera. He knew his kingdom on paper like the back of his hand, history and cartography books making up most of his childhood.

  Nonetheless, he had never really seen any of it.

  And maybe his father had good reason to keep him walled in. After losing a wife and a son, wouldn’t Alaric feel the same? Like if he held on tight enough to the last thing he had, no harm could come to him again?

  Still, it wasn’t really about Alaric in this instance. What mattered more to the King of Lithera was keeping the Bernthal line alive.

  And if Alaric died, the name would die with him.

  But how was he to be king one day if he didn’t know his people and vice versa? All these things he needed to possess to lead his kingdom were twisted so tightly around one strand of existence, Alaric feared he would just suddenly…

  Snap.

  And everything his ancestors had built on this continent would come falling down with him.

  His impending wedding only solidified those fears.

  Gray nudged his shoulder, bringing Alaric back to the present moment. “Try and stay with me here, alright?”

  Alaric smiled weakly in appreciation. His mind tended to walk down dark paths, and sometimes he needed a hand to be pulled back out into the light.

  “You sure you don’t want to go again?” Gray offered, brows bunching in concern.

  Alaric laughed easily. “And give you a chance to win a round? I’m good.” He shook his head when Gray’s expression didn’t let up. “Really, I’m fine. I’ll go pore over the work that was sent to my rooms this morning,” Alaric assured him, clasping his shoulder in farewell and then stalking from the barracks back to the castle close.

  ༺═──────────────═༻

  Wren fiddled with an embellished comb she’d swiped from a lady earlier, splayed out on the bed as she flipped through a book about Lithian court.

  She was aware she’d be expected to know some things, and even though she hated that she was putting herself through this, Wren believed it was better to pretend she belonged than for people to know who she really was.

  She was learning that court could be just as dangerous as an open battlefield.

  Ambria had been incredibly helpful yesterday morning, warning her of who to stay away from—not that Wren desired to really mingle with anyone. She’d also given Wren a handful of books to study, like the one she was looking at now.

  In Forx, there hadn’t been a terrible need for her to know all the names of the High Houses or the lower noble Houses, nor the proper way to curtsy or address nobles or dine with princes and kings. She didn’t know any of the fancy dances either, but she planned to avoid that part altogether.

  Rumors were circulating of an upcoming event at the palace to announce the Crown Prince’s engagement, which meant Wren was trying desperately to prepare herself for whatever the king had arranged. She’d asked Dahlia if she could make her an appropriate gown, and her maid had jumped at the opportunity. Wren had no idea what she had in mind—and honestly, she couldn’t wait to see it.

  Pausing her reading for a moment, Wren’s gaze drifted to the glass doors of the balcony, taking in the colours blooming across the dusk sky. Two months, twenty-seven days.

  Her mind wandered its way back to Forx, her parents, and Gemma, her little sister. She wished she could hate them—she knew she should. But somehow, she kept coming up with excuses in her head for why her village had turned on her.

  They thought I was a witch.

  They were scared.

  They didn’t know what to think.

  What if I’m dangerous?

  What if they were right to kill me?

  Wren flinched at the poison in her head, breathing deeply to stop the quiver in her hands.

  The bottom line was this: she couldn’t stay here, acting like this bed and these clothes were hers. Like this person was who she was inside.

  The truth was, she couldn’t stay anywhere.

  Sliding off the bedspread, Wren glanced at the closed door, aware that at least two guards were always present in the hallway outside her rooms.

  Which only left one option if she wanted to leave unnoticed.

  She grasped the handles of the balcony doors, slipping through and shutting them behind her. The balcony platform wasn’t huge, a thick stone railing enclosing it on all sides. Wren walked to the edge, leaning over to gauge the distance to the ground. The courtyard below was empty as the evening turned to night, the jump from the balcony deemed survivable.

  Her papa had been the one to teach her how to climb trees and how to absorb the impact if she fell—lessons that had served her well in the past couple months.

  She assessed her midnight blue dress, having never tried this in such a garment. I can do this.

  I have to do this.

  Hoisting herself onto the ledge, Wren swung her legs over the railing, effectively leaving all sense of safety behind. Keeping her hands planted on the stone, she twisted her body so she was facing the balcony doors again. She supported most of her weight in her palms, gingerly looking for footholds before finding secure niches for her leather shoes to grip.

  Anticipation gathered in her chest, causing her heart to race as she tried to retain control over her breathing.

  3.

  Wren shut her eyes.

  2.

  She took a long exhale.

  1.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her concentration shattered, and Wren yelped as she slipped on her momentum and lost her footholds. The only thing keeping her from falling now was her grip on the top ledge.

  She let out a frustrated wail. “Why do you always show up at the worst times?” Wren risked a glance behind her to the ground below.

  Alaric looked up at her with his hands in his pockets and an insufferable grin on his face. “It’s a talent.” He cocked his head and added, “Though I may have to disagree and say this is one of the best times I could have stumbled across you. Do you realize how ridiculous you look?”

  “Oh, shut up,” she bit back. She attempted to pull her legs back up, but she didn’t have quite enough strength to do so.

  He chuckled, “The front door wasn’t sufficient enough?”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “Let go and I’ll catch you.”

  Wren couldn’t believe her ears. “In three hells, Prince. I don’t need your help.”

  She heard his heavy sigh. “If you fall, you’ll surely break something.”

  “Can’t have damaged goods on your arm now, can you?” Wincing at the words she’d spontaneously shouted, Wren waited for his response.

  There was a long stretch of silence as she struggled to hold herself up, and Wren started to wonder if Alaric had walked away when his voice cut through the tension. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

  She huffed, “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Says the one who just insulted me while dangling from her balcony.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” Wren ground out, arms beginning to strain from the effort of holding herself up.

  She was sure Alaric was grinning even wider now, if that were possible. “Any time.”

  “Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep or something?” she called down to him.

  “So that you’re aware, I’m able to stand here for as long as I like. You, on the other hand, may have a hard time staying up there to argue with me.”

  Curse his princely words. “Then what are you going to do about it?”

  He scoffed. “As I seem to recall, you don’t need my help.”

  “At least I know something got through that thick skull of yours,” Wren mumbled.

  “Could you repeat that? It’s hard to hear you when you’re directing your words to a stone wall.”

  Wren twisted, fury coating her face at the sight of the prick below. “I’ll have you know, Prince, that I—” Her words were cut off by a short scream as her hands slipped and she lost her grip on the lip of stone.

  Falling.

  Without enough time to maneuver around to land properly, Wren plummeted to meet the cobble path of the courtyard. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the pain of impact.

  But…it never came? Surely the fall wasn’t this long. She should’ve hit the ground by now.

  Wren risked cracking one eye open, orienting her view of the darkened sky, stars starting to wink into existence. She breathed in the scent of jasmine and steel, the aroma calming her heightened nerves and racing heart. Warmth seeped in, protecting her from the chill of the night, and that’s when she made the connection.