Page 75 of A Kiss of Flame
But she also knew that she was not entirely human. Not really. There were shadows threaded all the way through her and a dark goddess claimed she was her child. Her creation, anyway. Elodie had never explained that. Perhaps she couldn’t. Wren had command of ancient powers, threads of light and darkness that warred against each other and seemed intent on making her their battleground.
And she woke once more with thoughts full of creeping shadows.
Wren stared up at the palace on the mountain as the sunlight struck its white walls, blue roofs and golden domes. It was perfection, cold and beautiful, but it would never be her home.
Strong arms slid around her, and Finn’s body pressed to hers again, all the comfort she could ever need. He kissed the top of her head gently.
‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ he asked. There was a wariness to the question, doubts underpinning it.
She nodded. ‘I just woke up before you.’ It sounded so simple, but as a statement it held a multitude of meanings she didn’t want to go into. ‘We have to go back,’ she told him after a long moment of thought. ‘And they’ll try to pull us apart again.’
‘Roland? The council?’
She gave a brief and bitter laugh, although it wasn’t from humour at all. ‘Everyone.’
Wren felt him shrug, a gentle roll of his shoulders. ‘They’ll do the same if we stay here. Or worse.’
‘So what do we do?’
There were so many answers to that. Run away, face them down, do as they were told, and all the iterations in between.
‘We do what you want,’ he said at last. ‘And I’ll be there with you. But for now…’ He pressed his mouth to her bare shoulder, kissing her there. His lips moved up slowly, inexorably, to the column of her neck, then to her jaw. ‘Come back to bed, heart.’
CHAPTER 40
WREN
The clothes Wren found waiting for her were far simpler than the elaborate affairs she had been forced into at the palace.
A long sweeping sheath of a dress, made of the finest silks, shimmered with a touch of lustrous threads. She could dress herself in clothes as simply cut as this, which suddenly seemed like the greatest luxury. And it was beautiful, the type of dress designed to make a woman feel beautiful. There was a discreet pocket in the seam into which she could tuck the little twist of straw and flowers in the shape of a bird Carlotta had given her. That seemed important somehow. She didn’t want to lose it.
She plaited her long hair as tightly as she could and it fell in a braid down her back, tamed with a silk scarf at the end in midnight blue. It was all she could do with it for now. It wasn’t as good as cutting it all off, but it was a start.
Finn had been gone when she finally awoke in the light of late morning, the bed cold beside her. She vaguely remembered him kissing her forehead, telling her he had things to do but she could sleep on for now. She had tried to reach for him, too sleepy to stop him, but he was already gone.
A murmuring sound outside the room called to her, and Wren frowned. It was almost like music, like a half-remembered tune that toyed with her senses, always on the edge of her hearing.
Shadows drew close, teasing skin made sensitive from Finn’s lips, from his touch. And all she could do for a moment was stand there listening as the sound swept in over her. Calling her.
She needed to follow it. That was suddenly clear. It swelled softly, a little more urgently now. Come to me.
But it wasn’t threatening or demanding. Not this time. It was gentle, cajoling. It needed her.
Wren slipped out of the door, the silken dress whispering around her, echoing the song that drifted on the air.
The embassy was silent and still. As she wandered tentatively along the long corridor, with its bright tapestries and plush carpeting, she realised she didn’t know where she was going. Was this area for guests? Or just for Finn? Or his family… which meant she might run into Leander at any second. She was about to turn back but then she realised she didn’t know where to go. It had seemed like one corridor but now… now it looked strange, as if she was on another floor or in another part of the building.
At the sound of soft, approaching footsteps, Wren froze and stepped back into one of the recessed doorways, holding her breath. She could find Finn, couldn’t she?
A whisper of othertongue played across the back of her mind in that disconcerting way it would when the Nox was trying to manipulate her. Or help her. She tried to breathe calmly, tried to slow her racing heart. The Nox’s promises of help were always a trick. Weren’t they?
What had she been thinking, wandering off on her own? She didn’t know where she was going.
Wren reached into her pocket and felt the little charm in her fingers. It stilled her racing thoughts and she took a deep breath, calming herself.
A figure passed her without noticing her hiding there, dark and drifting, dressed the same way Wren was, moving like her, but her long black hair loose and unbound.
And Wren followed.
