She couldn’t subject him to that.
But things were equally dangerous for him here, weren’t they? His own uncle had ordered his death. Julian might think his mother’s estate was safe… but was it? And what could he really do? Hole up there alone, indefinitely?
But he didn’t want to go alone, did he? He wanted Wren and Leo to go with him.
Wren had her uses, especially with her newfound abilities, and Leo was Julian’s only scrap of leverage. He needed to wrest control from his uncle, and even if he didn’t intend to ransom Leo himself, it was in his best interest to ensure that the regent didn’t do so, either.
She suspected Julian would fight tooth and nail to keep Leo away from his uncle or those who were in cahoots with him—like Galen and possibly Odile.
The way she saw it, her options were to either insist upon the Breachfort, all the while waiting for Julian to make a move and betray her… or to betray him first. At least, that’s the way he’d see it. In actuality, she’d be protecting him. But she knew he wouldn’t thank her for it.
The idea of deceiving him made her stomach twist, but it was for the best. Wren and Leo would get their answers at the fort, and Julian would retreat to the safety of his mother’s estate.
She didn’t have to hurt him or turn him over to his murderous uncle.
This can’t end well. For either of us.
She just had to leave him behind.
THIRTY-SEVEN
After they returned to the mill house, they ate in silence and settled in for a few hours of sleep.
This time Wren offered to take the first watch. She couldn’t sleep even if she wanted to.
As Julian lay down, his back facing the room, Wren and Leo stared at each other. Were they really going to do this? They had to, didn’t they? Not just for their own sakes, but for Julian’s too. He needed to get to safety, and he would find none at the fort.
Really, she was helping him—making the decision for him so he didn’t risk his life trying to keep his grip on Leo at the expense of his own well-being.
And despite what had happened between them the past few days, they were not friends. Not really. They were each other’s only life raft in a storm, but the storm was over, and they were back on solid ground. For now.
No, they weren’t friends. They weren’t anything.
So why was this one of the hardest things Wren had ever faced?
As she waited for sleep to claim him, her mind refused to settle.
Strangely, it wasn’t Julian that she found herself dwelling on, though. It was the idea of going back to the Breachfort.
It had been her goal from the start, the destination for her triumphant return—and here she was, on the brink of delivering the prince, yet the victory felt flat and hollow.
Her vision of the future—praised by her father and her house and lauded as a talented valkyr—was hazy, the image dull and lifeless compared to the thrill and danger of her recent days spent east of the Wall. Every moment here was seared into her skin, vivid and visceral.
The fact was, she was not the same person she had been when she’d left. She reached into her pocket, intending to touch the ring—but stopped herself.
Yes, she was changed magically. But also mentally.
She had been out in the real world for the first time in her life. That was why she’d wanted to be a valkyr so desperately—to actually leave Marrow Hall and travel the Dominions. To battle the undead. To challenge herself and to win.
Never in her life had she imagined a challenge quite like the Breach, and a part of her hated the idea of leaving it all behind. Unfinished, like Julian had said. There were questions that needed answering, but surely some of those answers waited for her at the fort? From Odile, certainly, and maybe, eventually, her own father.
The problem was, things were more complicated than they had ever been. When she’d left, she’d just wanted to be a valkyr, to make her family proud. To belong.
Now she feared the truth would make that impossible.
What she had to decide was if the truth was worth giving that up… and if that was something she still wanted anyway.
Wren added a new log to the fire, the stove’s door screeching in response to being opened, but Julian didn’t move.
She looked at Leo again, and he nodded.
Quietly, he stood and slipped out the door.
Wren, meanwhile, unearthed the length of rope she’d found in one of the horse’s saddlebags. She closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself.
She’d only get one shot at this.
Moving carefully, she stepped around Julian’s sleeping body, searching for his hands. They weren’t conveniently together, laid out before her and ready to be bound.
One was above his head, the other under his cheek. He continued to wear his gloves, a mystery she had yet to solve.
Wren blew out a breath. This would be harder than she’d thought.
First she wrapped the rope around one of the load-bearing beams that ran down the center of the room.
Next she went for his outstretched hand, slipping it through the loosened knot she had already made in the rope. A sharp pull would tighten it. She caught sight of his good luck bracelet and had to look away, the guilt like bile in her belly.
The other hand was where the real challenge would begin. In order to tie it up, she’d have to slide it out from under his face. She crouched before him, then, seeing an opportunity, she threw a leg over his body, thinking she could nudge him slightly, onto his back, releasing the hand.
She’d only just managed to get into position, her body suspended over his, their faces inches apart, when his eyes snapped open.
He startled, his gaze foggy with sleep, until he blinked away his confusion and truly saw her.
Straddling him.
His expression changed, his body shifting subtly from rigid surprise to tension of a different sort. Something anticipatory.
Wren did the only thing she could do. She kissed him.
His mouth opened for her, eager, like last time—but there was an underlying darkness, a desperation that Wren was certain hadn’t been there before. Was it coming from her, knowing this was the beginning of the end, or did he, too, sense that this would be the last time?
As she pressed herself against him, Wren fumbled with the rope, managing to slip his slackened hand through the knot just in time. He reached for her face—or tried, his hand coming up against the restraint, tightening it with his own movement.
His eyes bugged out, and he broke the kiss just as Wren leapt back from him. She tugged on the other end of the rope as she went, securing his second hand. He struggled, but in a stunned sort of way, disbelief etched across his features.
Leo spoke from the doorway. “Ready.”
Julian craned his neck to look at him, then at Wren. He pulled again, harder this time, before his gaze darted around the room.
“They’re outside,” Wren explained, knowing he was looking for his weapons. Leo had already gathered everything and put it safely out of reach. She had no doubt he’d break free soon enough—she hadn’t tied him flush to the support beam, which meant he’d figure out a way to loosen the binds or call his weapons. She suspected he might even have other bits of iron concealed on his body that she didn’t know about, but that was okay. She didn’t intend for him to die out here. She just needed a head start.