by Claire Luana
That was where Lucas found her. Her stomach had been rumbling for some time and she had been contemplating going inside. But somehow, on the roof, she didn’t have to confront anything yet, didn’t have to admit her utter uselessness. So she was hanging on to this moment as hard as she could.
The bench creaked in protest as Lucas flopped down next to her. Without a word, he scooted down to lay his head in her lap. She stroked the hair at his temple, admiring the flecks of gray, overcome by sudden tenderness.
“They have my brother,” Lucas said flatly, closing his eyes wearily.
“What?” Wren said, her hand stilling. “Which one? Trick?”
“Keep doing that. It felt nice,” Lucas murmured. “Well, yes, someone has Trick. But no, the Apricans. My brother Casius.”
“Which one is that?” Wren tried to recall which of the sour-faced men standing at the front of the temple was Casius.
“He’s the next in line after Zane. He thought he’d prove his heroism by commanding the defense of the harbor himself. His ship got hit and he went into the water. Some of the other men saw him pulled out by the Apricans.”
Wren shuddered, trying not to think of how horrible it must be to be plunged into dark, cold water, surrounded by hungry flames and falling debris. “That’s awful. Your father must be furious,” Wren said, though in truth, she had little sympathy for King Imbris.
“It weakens us,” Lucas said, finally sitting up. His face was pallid, his brow furrowed. He looked as if he had aged five years in the last five days. “The attack on the harbor weakened us as well. We lost three of our ships—the Centese lost two. We have to keep the harbor closed, which means it will be that much harder to reprovision the city when Evander’s army arrives.”
“When is that?”
“Days. Hours. Maybe. The reports say soon.”
Hours? Dear gods. Wren’s stomach somersaulted within her. To be in a besieged city…there was no telling what would happen. Starvation, riots…and if the Apricans got in…Wren clutched at the key beneath her blouse, struggling to keep calm. If the city fell, she could get out. Lucas had seen to that.
“It will all work out,” Lucas said with a halfhearted smile, taking her hand in his and squeezing.
Wren nodded, offering a smile back that was no doubt equally unconvincing. She tried to center herself. One problem at a time. “Lucas. I know it’s not a priority with all that is going on…”
“The Guild members.”
“Can you help us?” Wren pleaded. “I was thinking if we got you and Virgil together, perhaps you could brainstorm places your father might be hiding them.”
“You aren’t going to like it, but who we need is Ella. She and my mother stayed very close to my father all through her childhood. He doted on her.”
“Must have contributed to her charming personality.” Wren grimaced.
“She’s not so bad, really,” Lucas said. “You’d like each other if you just had the chance to get to know each other. You have so much in common.”
Wren rolled her eyes. “Like what?”
“Me,” Lucas said, flashing a grin that lit up his face.
Wren swatted at him and he ducked out of the path of her blow with a laugh. For a moment, he was the old Lucas again, and Wren desperately wanted the Apricans to turn their armies around so she could get this carefree version of him back for good. “Fine, Ella can help. When can we meet?”
“No time like the present,” Lucas stood, stretching, his back popping. “Father isn’t letting Mother or Ella out of the palace while the Apricans are attacking so indiscriminately. We pick up Virgil and head over.”
“Great.” Wren stood as well, trying to hide her grimace. Once more into the lion’s den.
Lucas didn’t mind waiting as Wren went back to her room to wash and put on a change of clothes. They snagged some food from the kitchen and set off, picking up Virgil at the Sower’s Temple on their way to the palace. Wren waited outside, giving in to her aversion to being inside a house of worship. Lucas didn’t push her to explain, though she could feel the unspoken questions between them. The king’s comments at the wedding swam to the forefront of her mind, and she struggled to keep her anger in check. No wonder Brother Brax liked you. Bastard. Bastard, bastard.
Virgil and Lucas emerged and Wren pasted on a smile, giving Virgil a kiss on the cheek. They made their way north through the city streets in silence. Smoke from the fires in the harbor hung heavy over the city, tickling Wren’s nose as they approached the palace gates. Lucas and Virgil were waved though, but the guards scrutinized Wren with obvious distrust. Lucas took her hand in his and pulled her past.
“The guard said Ella was in the library, last he heard,” Virgil said.
“We’ll start there,” Lucas agreed.
“I hope we don’t run into Father,” Virgil said under his breath. Wren looked at Lucas, to evaluate if this was something she should respond to. Lucas seemed lost in his own thoughts as well. She supposed coming home wasn’t easy for anyone, even a set of princes.
The palace courtyard was bustling with people: soldiers drilling, workmen unloading a cartload of grain, even a few ladies strolling around the perimeter arm in arm. What must their lives be like? Wren wondered.
A face caught Wren’s eye across the square—a tight-set jaw, a thick head of flaxen hair. Then the man turned, as if her eyes upon him had summoned his gaze. Her blood turned to ice in her veins, her breath frozen in her lungs. She hadn’t seen that cruelly handsome face in six years.
Wren hissed, slowing a step so Lucas passed before her, blocking her view of the man.
“Ow,” Lucas said. “Your fingers are like a vise grip.”
“Wren, are you all right?” Virgil asked, holding a door open before her. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Malevolent spirit, more like it,” she managed, slipping through the door with relief. The moment the man’s gaze left her, she exhaled a shuddering sigh.
“What is it?” Lucas stopped, taking her chin gently in his hand and tilting her face up to the light.
“I saw someone.” She tore her chin from his grip, unable to face the intimacy of his gaze. “Someone I…used to know.”
“Killian?” Lucas asked, peering behind her through the glass panes at the top of the door. “Willings?”
“No, thank the Beekeeper,” she said, tugging Lucas along. “Someone from a prior life.”
“It seems you didn’t like the fellow very much,” Virgil said. “Who was he?”
Her heart thudded in her chest like a stallion trying to break free in a storm. Her childhood had been a series of horrors, but Brax had been one of the most memorable chapters of the entire messy novel. Had she summoned him just by thinking of him this morning? “Do you know all the other Brothers of your order?” she asked Virgil.
“Many of them,” Virgil said, scrunching his brow. “Most. Why? Was he a brother?”
“Do you know a Brother Brax?” Wren was grateful that her voice sounded calm.
“Of course,” Virgil said. “He’s charged with care of the palace temple. He works closely with the order, as well as the king, on all sorts of projects.”
“Does he still run the Sower’s Orphanage?”
“I don’t think so,” Virgil said. “Not anymore. I think he was…promoted, in a way.”
“That orphanage has been closed anyway. Why?” Lucas asked, his shrewd eyes on Wren.
“No reason,” she said, shaking her head. So the orphanage had been closed. That was a relief.
“Does this have something to do with your dislike for entering the temple?” Virgil asked gently.
Wren knew she should tell them the truth of what had happened with Brother Brax at the Sower’s Orphanage all those years ago, but she didn’t even know where to begin. Lucas clearly still had a blind spot when it came to his father; probably Virgil did too. Wren couldn’t bring herself to tell the princes if there was a chance they wouldn’t believe her. Sh
e didn’t think she was brave enough for that. “I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s all right.”
Lucas stroked his thumb across the back of Wren’s hand, sending a shiver up her spine. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Fine,” Wren said, with much more conviction than she felt.
“We’re here,” Virgil said. There was a hint of excitement in his voice, and when they walked through the tall double doors, she could see why.
The library was a huge soaring space with a ceiling of carved stone. Massive three-story stained-glass windows flanked the room, casting down rainbows of light. Rows of carved desks were guarded by legions of bookshelves, their leather-bound inhabitants glowing with warmth.
“Let’s hope Ella is in her nook,” Virgil said.
“She has a nook?” Wren asked, craning her neck as Lucas led her though the room. Wren had never had much time for books; they seemed a pastime for the wealthy and idle. But she thought she might like a nook here.
They mounted a spiral set of stairs that deposited them on a second level of shelf-lined balconies. They found Ella in a sundrenched corner, tucked into an oversized sofa. A tabby cat with uncanny green eyes was nestled into a perfect circle in her lap. The scene softened Ellarose somehow, as if Wren had glimpsed the girl behind the imperiously perfect princess.
“Sister.” Virgil leaned over the couch and kissed Ella on the cheek.
“Virgy!” she squealed, snapping her book shut and launching the cat off her lap in her effort to stand and give him a hug.
“And Luc!” Her smile faltered as she took in Wren’s presence next to Lucas. “You.”
“Be nice, Ella,” Lucas said with a tone of warning. “We come in peace.”
“Why’d you bring her then?” Ella flopped back down on the couch with a dramatic sigh.
They filled into the sofa set, Virgil taking a spot on the couch next to his sister, Wren and Lucas on the two armchairs facing them. Ella’s insults hardly stung, as Wren couldn’t stop thinking about Brax.
“What’s going on?” Ella asked.
“Where to start?” Virgil mused.
“Might as well get straight to it,” Lucas said. “Father has kidnapped one Guild member from each Aperitive Guild to ensure they cooperate with him on the war effort. We think Patrick was the first.”
Ella looked between her brothers for a moment with eyes wide, as if waiting for one of them to laugh or declare the whole thing a jest. They didn’t. “You’re serious.”
“Are you really surprised?” Virgil said. “He’s railed against the Guilds for years, how they have too much power, too much autonomy, take taxes that should go to the crown by right. This would be the perfect opportunity to bring them to heel.”
“But kidnapping?” Ella said, wrinkling her upturned nose. “It’s so…plebeian.”
So’s murder, Wren thought, but she said nothing. She would let Lucas and Virgil do the talking here. She had no patience to try to charm this little brat, especially as rattled as she was.
“Fine.” Ella sighed. “I believe you. What do you want from me? Father won’t hurt Trick. We just have to let this…play out.”
“He may not hurt Trick,” Lucas said, “but we can’t say as much about the other Guild members. He’s taken important people. Friends. We’re trying to think of where Father might be keeping them. So we can get them free.”
“Are you mad?” Ella asked. “He’d be furious at you for interfering.”
“We’ll get in and out undetected,” Virgil said. “No need for him to know we’re involved.”
“Whose side are you on anyway?” Ella asked Lucas. “Date a Guild rat for a few days, and you forget where your loyalties lie?”
“That’s enough, Ella,” Lucas thundered, startling the cat, who had taken up a spot near his feet.
Ella crossed her arms before her.
“I’m loyal to the cause of justice. We have laws passed by the Noble’s Council for a reason. No one should be allowed to get away with kidnapping and murder, even if they wear a crown.” Lucas hissed. “Now, are you going to help us brainstorm or not? Because if you’re just going to insult Wren and act flippant, we’ll show ourselves out.”
“I’ll help,” she said, huffing. “But not for her. For Trick. I don’t like the idea of him being held with a bunch of miscreants.”
“I want you to apologize to Wren,” Lucas said. He turned to her, apology written in his eyes. Wren tried not to let it get to her. So what if Ella didn’t like her? What did the pointless cruelties of one spoiled princess matter? There were lives on the line.
“Fine. Sorry for calling you a Guild rat, Wren,” Ella said.
“Forgiven,” Wren said, her voice soft.
Lucas looked at her, peering into her blank face. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she said. “Just get the locations. Then we can go.”
Chapter 16
Lucas, Virgil, and Ella settled into the easy banter of siblings who remembered each other’s broken arms, tantrums, and childhood crushes. They recounted with delight their various country homes and retreats, visits to see faraway relatives, their parents’ old friends.
Wren let out a breath of relief as their voices washed over her. She could finally retreat into herself and confront the memory that had been pounding at the trapdoor of her mind ever since she had set her eyes on Brax.
She had been ten when she fled the little town of Needle Falls, fled the scene of blood and sorrow that splashed the walls of their ramshackle house. Her brother, Hugo, was dead, crushed in a logging accident, and her father, already predisposed to drink himself into oblivion, drank just the wrong amount. Whiskey and grief filled him in an angry cocktail…too drunk to know what he was doing, but not drunk enough to pass out. When the first blow fell that night, it felt like all the others, but she knew. Knew that it was different. Because Hugo would never be back to protect her. They would never flee this place. This would be her life. Day in and day out. Cleaning up her father’s messes by day, dodging his fists by night. So when he came for her to land the second blow, she hit him with their cast-iron skillet. And while his lifeblood slowly seeped out onto the dirt of their floor, she prepared to run.
Wren gathered what small amount of money they had, a spare dress, some mealy apples, and a hunk of cheese. She slipped into the night, saddled their one old horse, and galloped through the night into Maradis. She didn’t know what she expected to find there, but it had been Hugo’s plan, so it was good enough for her.
Wren lasted three nights in the city before she fell prey to the kids who ran wild in the street, thieving and fighting. She had sold her horse to a blacksmith near the city wall who she knew now swindled her out of much of what she deserved. She’d had enough to sleep in the hayloft of an inn for those first few nights, to garner a bowl of soup and a heel of bread. But then a lanky boy with stringy black hair hanging in his eyes pushed her over into a puddle and took her purse. Not without giving her a swift kick in the stomach for good measure. She learned later that had been to keep her from giving chase. She learned much eventually. But that day, she was naive and alone and penniless. Maradis was a millstone, and she would be ground to dust beneath it.
A part of her had no regrets. It would be better to have a quick death in Maradis than a slow death under her father’s belt.
Wren wandered for hours, her belly aching with emptiness, her feet numb with cold. She found herself in the Lyceum Quarter, standing in a patchwork of light pouring out from the open door of a building. Music emanated from inside the building, a sweet trio of harpsichord, violin, and some type of flute. It was the cleanest thing she’d experienced since she’d arrived in the city, and it brought tears to her eyes. She found herself through the doors without realizing her feet carried her there.
And that was where she first saw him. Brother Brax. Tall and flaxen as the Sower himself. Dark and twisted as the devil.
“Hello,” he said. “You look lost. Are
your parents around? Can I help you find them?”
To her horror, her lips quivered, and the tears that had started at the song began to pour. That was the way with tears. Once they started, they felt free to have their way. “My parents died,” she finally managed, her voice thick.
“An orphan!” Brax said, his gentle brown eyes wide in exaggerated surprise. “Well, the Sower has blessed you today.”
“The Sower?” Wren hasked. She hadn’t been raised in a religious family. The only gods her father worshiped had been at the bottom of a bottle.
“Yes,” Brax said, ushering her farther inside with a gentle hand. “This is his temple, and I am one of his priests. He provides grain and provision for the world.”
“Oh,” was all Wren could manage.
Brax strode to the altar at the front of the room where the musicians were practicing and returned with a small loaf of pumpernickel bread. “He provides even for orphans.”
Wren snatched the bread from the man, tearing off the first bite with gusto.
Brax sat down, taking her by the waist, squaring her to him. She didn’t like the feel of his hands on her, but the bread was really all she was concerned with at the moment.
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” he asked. “A bed to sleep in?”
She paused mid-chew, her alarm bells ringing.
He chuckled. “I ask because I run an orphanage on behalf of the temple. The king himself finances it. I think you could be very happy there.”
“An orphanage?” she said through a mouth thick with bread.
“There are other children there, like you. Who have lost their parents. You would have friends, clean clothes, warm meals. A bed to sleep in. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
She nodded slowly. It did sound nice. It sounded like heaven on earth. Surely, such a place could not exist.
“Would you like to go there tonight? Just to try it out? If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay.” He stood, reaching out his hand to her.
