She made all of this with her magic. The magic that should have always been her inheritance.
The doors to the new castle are high and narrow, without a knocker nor any handles. He pushes, expecting resistance, but the door swings open at the touch of his gloved hand.
The black hall beyond is empty but for a fireplace large enough to cook a horse, crackling with real flames. No servants greet him. His hooves echo against the stone.
He finds her in the third room, a library, only a portion of it stocked with books, but clearly built for the acquisition of more.
She is in a long dressing gown of a deep blue color. Her hair is down and falls over her shoulders. Her feet are bare. She sits on a long, low couch, novel in hand, wings spread. At the sight of her, he feels a longing so sharp that it is almost pain.
Wren sits up.
“I didn’t expect you,” she says, which is not encouraging.
He thinks of visiting her in the forest when they were young and how she sent him away for his own good. Perhaps wisely. But he isn’t about to be sent away easily again.
She goes to one of her shelves and returns the book, sliding it back into place.
“I know what you think,” Oak says. “That you’re not whom I should want.”
She ducks her head, a faint flush on her cheeks.
“It’s true you inspire no safe daydream of love,” he tells her.
“A nightmare, then?” she asks with a small, self-deprecating laugh.
“The kind of love that comes when two people see each other clearly,” he says, walking to her. “Even if they’re scared to believe that’s possible. I adore you. I want to play games with you. I want to tell you all the truths I have to give. And if you really think you’re a monster, then let’s be monsters together.”
Wren stares at him. “And if I send you away even after this speech? If I don’t want you?”
He hesitates. “Then I’ll go,” he says. “And adore you from afar. And compose ballads about you or something.”
“You could make me love you,” she says.
“You?” Oak snorts. “I doubt it. You’re not interested in my telling you what you want to hear. I think you might actually prefer me at my least charming.”
“What if I am too much? If I need too much?” she asks, her voice very low.
He takes a deep breath, his smile gone. “I’m not good. I’m not kind. Maybe I am not even safe. But whatever you want from me, I will give you.”
For a moment, they stare at each other. He can see the tension in her body. But her eyes are clear and bright and open. She nods, a slow smile growing on her lips. “I want you to stay.”
“Good,” he says, sitting on the couch beside her. “Because it’s very cold out there, and it was a long walk.”
She lets her head fall against his shoulder with a sigh, lets him put his arm around her and pull her into an embrace.
“So,” she says, her lips against his throat. “If everything had gone well that night on Insear, what would you have asked me? A riddle?”
“Something like that,” he says.
“Tell me,” she insists, and he can feel the press of her teeth, the softness of her mouth.
“It’s a tricky one,” he says. “Are you sure?”
“I’m good at riddles,” she says.
“What I would have asked you—if somehow I wasn’t trying to manipulate the situation so that you could wriggle out of it—is this: Would you consider actually marrying me?”
She looks up at him, obviously surprised and a little suspicious. “Really?”
He presses a kiss to her hair. “If you did, I would be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to prove the sincerity of my feelings.”
“What’s that?” she asks, peering up at him.
“Become a king of some place instead of running away from all royal responsibility.”
She laughs. “You wouldn’t rather sit by my throne on a leash?”
“That does seem easier,” he admits. “I would make an excellent consort.”
“Then I’ll have to marry you, Prince Oak of the Greenbriar line,” Wren says, with a sharp-toothed smile. “Just to make you suffer.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to all those who helped me along on the journey to the novel you have in your hands, particularly Cassandra Clare, Leigh Bardugo, and Joshua Lewis, who helped me plot this the first time （surrounded by cats）， Kelly Link, Sarah Rees Brennan, and Robin Wasserman, who helped me replot and reconsider my plot （though with fewer cats）。 Also to Steve Berman, who gave me notes and encouragement throughout and who has been critiquing my books since before Tithe.