“No,” he said hurriedly. “Just somewhere we can lie low and stay safe until the regent stops his search.”
“And where would that be?”
“We could use my mother’s family estate. It’s currently unoccupied except for a few servants. We could regroup, rest, and figure out our next move.”
“A family estate? Surely they’ll look for you there.”
“My people will protect us.”
“Your people? Wasn’t the regent one of ‘your people’ up until yesterday? And what about Captain Royce before that? You’re asking me to put trust in the people who caused this mess in the first place.”
He tugged at his breastplate in agitation. “No, I’m asking you to put trust in me. You’ve done it before.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Wren said, ignoring the twinge in her stomach at the memory of their time at the Breach. “No way am I taking Leo anywhere near ‘your people.’ ”
His nostrils flared. “Is this still about you and your golden prize? Your stupid mission to prove yourself? You already have, Wren! If they don’t see that, that’s on them.”
Wren looked down, struggling to hide the emotion she felt at his words. He made it sound so easy. Like what others thought of her didn’t matter. And she wanted it to be true… but it wasn’t. It did matter. It was how she’d lost Ghostbane and wound up banished from her home.
But it was also how she’d wound up here, with him.
“Look,” he continued, “all I’m saying is, if we hand the prince over to the Breachfort, then we did all this for nothing. You said you care about him. But if you bring him back there, you plainly only care about yourself.”
“Fuck you,” Wren spat.
Julian bit down on a retort, glowering into the flames. Wren did the same.
She did care about Leo. She wanted him safe, and surely the Breachfort was safer than anywhere east of the Wall, even with a spy in their midst? Wren would just stick close to Leo’s side until… until he was shipped off somewhere else and she was forced to remain behind? And Julian… Who knew what would become of Julian at the fort.
But Wren would have pulled off the impossible. She would be praised. Rewarded. What that would mean, she couldn’t know for certain, but she had to try, didn’t she?
“It’s more than that,” Julian said, his voice quiet but fervent. “We’re not finished here. Those iron revenants, the undead… There’s more work to do in the Haunted Territory. We make a good team.”
“A good team?” Wren repeated, arching an eyebrow. “I thought you said we were a ‘bad idea’？”
“Aren’t we?” he said, meeting her gaze.
Wren shrugged, going for indifference. “Maybe I like bad ideas.”
He looked away. He appeared frustrated, like he was fighting some internal battle with himself. “It’s not—this can’t end well. For either of us.”
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?”