Bonesmith (House of the Dead, #1)(105)

There was also the matter of Locke Graven and the well. That must be how he got the magic to do what he did on that battlefield. Which meant Odile had been there—Wren’s father, too—and they had decided to bury the truth. What other information had they kept hidden from the world?

From Wren?

“Any conflict east of the Wall would certainly move her up the ranks,” Leo continued, unaware of Wren’s spiraling thoughts. “But the question then becomes: How much did this person know? It’s one thing to facilitate an exchange of lands or dispensation to settle in the Dominions for a political hostage and quite another to support whatever the regent and that queen are up to. I doubt they’ve gone through all the work of making those iron revenants for an empty threat alone.”

“So you think they want a war, no matter what might have happened with you?”

“We don’t know for sure if I was meant to be a hostage at all…. There are other ways to use a prince.”

They were both lost in their own thoughts for a moment, until Leo spoke again.

“I must admit, I thought you might be a part of it too,” he said, darting a wary, apologetic glance her way. “Your family certainly has the funds, and the timing makes sense…. But then we spoke together, and drank together, and, well, when those kidnappers descended—you were there defending me.” Wren tried to muster a smile, but she couldn’t shake his earlier words about Odile. His tone grew more serious as he continued. “And then you actually chased me down, risking your life to save mine. It means more to me than I can possibly say.”

“You’re welcome,” Wren said, though her mood was still dark. If someone at the Breachfort—Odile or otherwise—was to blame, then was Julian right that they shouldn’t return?

“And there is, of course, the fact that you were apparently a kidnapping target too. So I’m fairly confident that exonerates you, if not Odile.”

Wren’s heart was heavy. “She did manipulate things to ensure I was the one on your patrol.” In fact, she had pushed Wren onto Leo from the start—allegedly for Wren’s benefit, but clearly there had been other forces at work.

“I see,” Leo said softly.

“But she couldn’t have known,” Wren protested. “The whole reason this queen wants me…” She hesitated. “Remember that boost of power I mentioned? When Julian and I were in the Breach, there was this well there. A font of magic. We saw a boy draw upon it—his whole body glowed with it—and he made those iron revenants. I don’t know how long he’d been drawing on it, because he could control the revenants before we saw him at the well. I got a brief exposure to it, but…”

“You can do the same,” Leo finished, having seen it firsthand.

“But I’ve never done anything like that before,” Wren said quickly.

“Maybe the queen just needed a bonesmith, and there you were,” he said, though his expression was skeptical. They had both heard what the queen had said when the regent proposed a replacement: It is her, or it is no one. Then, later, she had spoken to Wren alone via the iron revenant next to her. Blood calls to blood and like to like.

“Maybe,” Wren hedged uneasily, kicking at some stones and sending them splashing into the river. She had the urge to touch the ring again but didn’t want to have to explain it to Leo. Or to think about it herself.

Leo laughed darkly. “So it seems that, by returning to the fort, we’re putting ourselves at the mercy of our betrayers once more?”

“Or,” Wren said, whirling around to face him, “putting them at our mercy instead.”

Leo frowned, arms crossed. “Elaborate.”

“They don’t know that we know,” Wren said, thinking out loud. “And even though we do know—or have a good guess—we don’t really know why. We don’t know the endgame. But maybe we could. So we show up, tired and grateful to be back, to be ‘safe,’ and meanwhile we dig and question and forage for answers. You with Galen, me with Odile. By the time we’re through, we’ll have what we need to make a better decision.” And maybe enough for Wren to understand who she was and where she fit into all this.

“I’ll need Galen’s letters,” Leo said, nodding. “I can’t prove anything without them. If he has any sense, he’ll have destroyed them by now—but there might be fresh correspondence. New leads.” He looked at her. Shrugged. “I’m willing to let this whole charade play out a little longer.”

Despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins, Wren had to ask. “Are you sure?” She may have been a target, too, but Leo was the one who was actually kidnapped. His betrayer had succeeded where Wren’s had failed. They might just be pushing Galen and Odile to more drastic measures.

Leo cast his gaze out over the water. “I suspect I am in danger no matter where I go. At least my dear cousin will have to pretend relief at my rescue and play nice for a while—until he can come up with a new scheme. That will buy us some time.”

“You wouldn’t rather stay east of the Wall? With Julian?”

“What? Of course not,” he scoffed, turning away from the water, and relief washed through her. “I’d rather be alone among the wolves I know than alone among those I don’t.”