Bonesmith (House of the Dead, #1)(104)

There it was, another rejection. Wren didn’t reply because she didn’t know how. She wanted to argue—it was what they were best at—but to do so would be to reveal how much it mattered to her. How much she cared.

So she said nothing.

He stood, scooping up his helmet. “I’ll take the first watch.”

He stalked through the trees, and Wren threw herself down next to Leo. As she did so, she glanced at his face—his eyes open and reflecting the firelight.



* * *



They headed out again in the afternoon. They’d reached a stalemate regarding their destination, but their path would be the same over the next day or so, regardless of where they went. They couldn’t head east—the Coastal Road and populated towns would be crawling with the regent’s men—so they had to backtrack west, skirting the Haunted Territory in order to either head south again toward the fort or north toward Julian’s proposed hideout.

Wren had been itching to talk to Leo ever since she’d awoken, but when they left camp, Julian offered to walk—depriving Wren both of the sight of him and Leo pressed together in the saddle and the chance to speak to the prince in private.

The ground was sloping and uneven, slowing their progress, but it would also slow their pursuers if any picked up their trail.

Since they were avoiding the deep forest, they found themselves walking along the banks of a familiar river. Julian proposed they should camp at the old mill again, and after they made the crossing and it came into view, the sight of it was strangely off-putting. They’d been here mere days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. So much had changed.

Wren did a cursory look around for any undead while Julian gathered wood and Leo tended the horses.

With Julian crouched in front of the stove, working on starting the fire, Wren saw her chance.

“I need to get cleaned up,” she announced, making her way to the river. The sun had disappeared beyond the western hills, but the narrow valley still clung to some vestiges of sunlight.

“Agreed,” Leo said, leaving the horses tied up and moving toward the house. “And a comb through that hair wouldn’t go awry, either.”

Wren didn’t break her stride as she took hold of his arm and pulled him with her. “You’re coming too.”

The water was icy as she crouched in the shallows and splashed it on her face. She looked back at the house, and while Julian was nowhere in sight—and certainly out of earshot—it didn’t mean they had long.

“Look, I don’t know what you heard earlier, but—”

“Are you going to break my heart and tell me I’m not a golden prize?” he asked. “I thought it was a rather endearing way of putting it. Better than ‘bargaining chip’ or ‘hostage,’ don’t you think?”

Wren sighed. “That’s not—”

“It’s okay,” Leo said, his expression earnest for once. “Regardless of your motives, you’ve saved my life. Both of you—though he didn’t come around until someone tried to kill him. So, I mean, between the two of you… you’re definitely the more altruistic.”

Wren laughed. “Low bar.”

Leo shrugged. “Keep the bar low enough, and you’re never disappointed.”

Wren’s laughter faded, and she glanced over her shoulder again. “He wants to keep you here, east of the Wall. He said there was an informant at the Breachfort, but I don’t know who.”

“I do.”

Wren straightened. “What?”

He gave her a strange look. “Julian’s not the only one who knew I was going to be kidnapped.”

Wren gaped. “You knew?”

He stared out across the river. “I found letters in Galen’s pack.”

“Galen, your cousin?”

“Indeed. He was paid—quite handsomely, I might add—to keep certain parties apprised of my whereabouts and to deliver me defenseless east of the Wall.” He paused, looking contemplative. “I didn’t know who would be doing the kidnapping, though I could guess, considering where we were. I also didn’t know who was paying him, but I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.”

“Who would have something to gain by it?” Wren asked. “Commander Duncan, maybe?”

“Not sure his family is wealthy enough to buy Galen, and besides, being kidnapped on his watch only hurts him, even if he thought he might make the Breachfort relevant again.”

“Maybe someone else at the fort?” Wren mused.

Leo hesitated. “I did consider the other bonesmith in residence—what was her name?”

“Odile,” Wren said, and apprehension landed in her gut. “But why…?” Even as she said it, reasons flitted through her mind. She was from east of the Wall and had hated what the Dominions did during the Uprising. Maybe she thought she could finally bring the conflict to an end. But handing over a prince to traitors and rebels could easily mean more death—she had to know that. It also meant that, since there was meant to be a second kidnapping, she had set up Wren, too….

Had it all been fake? Every kind word and piece of advice? Or had their bond been real, despite what the woman had felt compelled to do? Wren didn’t know which was worse, that Odile might have played at being a friend and mentor from the start or that her feelings had been true… and she had betrayed Wren anyway.