Lost my Wren.
The peony disintegrates against my palm as the memory of my sixteenth birthday wraps around my heart to squeeze so tightly that I can barely breathe.
I’ll give it to you on the day you leave this tower.
That was Wren’s promise, and he’s held on to this decayed flower for eight years.
Oh, God.
I think of running for one fleeting moment because there will be no reprieve from Wren’s wrath. As he’s said, I’m as guilty as the king, and nothing I say will change his mind.
But Wren must read my intentions because a sneer twists his lips. “I dare you. Run, Rapunzel. The chase may grant you temporary freedom, but the scars I’ll leave on your body will last a lifetime.” He strides away. “You best keep pace.”
Keep pace? I can’t even breathe, much lesswalkafter his brutal touch. But somehow, I put one foot in front of the other and hurry to match his long, hurried gait as we cross the glade. I use the sleeve of my tunic to wipe my cheek raw, ridding myself of the physical evidence of Wren’s vengeance. Wishing I could somehow scrub it from my soul as well.
I hold back tears and muster the remaining shreds of my tattered dignity. “Where are you taking me?”
His large hand wraps around my wrist like a manacle. “Away from here.”
Obviously.
I dig my heels in the pliable dirt at the tree line, and for the briefest moment, I marvel at how the ground gives at the pressure. I’ve known only relentless stone and grim grays. For a breath of time, I’m…overwhelmed…at the things I’ve seen only from my window. Never have I felt so small. So insignificant, and when I spin and see the tower, I gape in horror at the stark monstrosity.
Wren releases my wrist, and the lost momentum causes me to trip and fall to my knees. I slap my hands over my mouth to muffle my cry as I gaze in appalling wonder at my home.
My prison.
My sanctuary.
How have I never realized how tall and ugly it is?
Because I was on the inside looking out.
“Wren.” His name seeps from between my fingers. He crouches in front of me and pries my hands from my face. His broad frame blocks the tower from my view. I focus on beautiful him because even after what he did to me and whatever he’s about to do, I can’t deny my connection to him—and affection for him. And I hate myself for it. “I’m scared.”
I also hate myself for admitting this truth.
“As was my mother.” His hands squeeze around my wrists as he yanks me to my feet. His black brows are angry slashes above fierce eyes. “Be grateful I don’t show you the samemercyJohn’s soldier showed her.”
And then we’re moving again, treading into a forest I’ve seen only from my window. I have no time to absorb any of its ominous splendor. Not when I have all to do to keep up with Wren’s furious pace. He jerks my arm, tugging me along, causing me to stumble over the twigs and branches that litter the forest floor. Animals scurry out of sight as we weave around gnarled trees. Birds fly high overhead, disappearing into the canopy of leaves. I gape in wonder, having read about these creatures in books. They are as fantastical to me—as mythical—as dragons and unicorns. I gape at the world around me, with everything too…close.
Tooreal.
The air is too hot and heavy.
The muted sounds of the forest whisper as loud as thunder.
The intoxicating woodsy aroma overwhelms my senses.
And Wren.
He is everywhere. A riot around me. His hand a clamp around my arm. His hatred wrapped around my heart, making each beat a torment. What he did to me against the tower still sings through my veins. All of it too much too soon.
Pulling me apart.
When I slide a glance at him, I’m struck by his height. I never realized how tall he stands. How could I? It was impossible to accurately gauge his stature. The top of my head barely reached his chin when he had me pinned against the tower. His hair, which I thought was black, is actually shot through with sun-kissed strands of brown. And his face. He’s always been handsome, even as a boy. But this version of him?
He is…terrifyingly beautiful.
