“I’m happy for you,” I say, attempting a smile. Because if I don’t smile, I will cry, and I can’t have that. “Truly.”
Elora watches me gulp my wine over the rim of her own cup. She sets it down, then shares a glance with Shaw. “There is news, Wren.”
“Oh?” My head throbs. How long before it is acceptable for me to excuse myself?
“We’re expecting.”
The piece of meat in my mouth melts into an ashen lump. I force myself to swallow. The only sound is the wind, its mournful wail as thecottage walls shake, and my soft, stuttering breath. My sister is going to be a mother.
“That’s…” My fingers tremble around my fork. Elora always wanted a family, yet this came sooner than I expected. First, she is married. Now, she is pregnant. And I… I am trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who cannot stand my company. My airway closes with the realization that I have been replaced. Elora cares for Shaw, not me. Our cottage and our old life have been abandoned.
It takes a truly valiant effort to soften my features. “That’s wonderful, Elora. You must be thrilled.”
She picks at the cloth napkin in her lap, eyes downcast. “Yes.”
I will be an aunt, but I will not be present to offer my support. She has Shaw, the town. She will be taken care of. It’s what I always wanted for her. “Have you chosen a name?”
“Micah if it’s a boy,” Shaw says, squeezing my sister’s hand atop the table. “And Iliana if it’s a girl.”
Iliana was our mother’s name.
“They are wonderful names.” I lift my cup to my mouth, only to realize it is empty. Elora stares as I refill it, but doesn’t say anything. It matters not. Her disappointed gaze says enough.
I’ve resigned myself to finishing the meal in silence when Elora says, “Wren, how are you still alive? I thought the Frost King sacrificed the women he took.”
I’d almost given up hope of Elora inquiring about my life. Better late than never, I suppose. “That is a misconception. There is no sacrifice.”
“So you’re his prisoner?”
“Actually…” Here we go. “I’m his wife.”
“What?” She lurches upright in her chair, horrified. “Tell me that’s not true.”
Shame rises in me, singeing the skin of my face.
“Wren.” The word lashes out. “How could you marry that man? He is the one responsible for our misfortune!”
“You think I don’t know that? I didn’t exactly have a choice.”
She bows her head, properly abashed.
“It’s not all bad,” I say in a softer tone. “I’m left alone most days. I have free rein of the grounds.” As long as I stay inside the walls. “And he is not as cruel as I first believed.” Strange, how I find myself defending him from my sister, when he is an immortal who took me from my home.
“So he let you visit Edgewood?”
“Yes.”
“He isn’t afraid you’ll run away?”
I’m not sure why I lie. To look less like a failure? To wipe the pity from their faces? “He trusts me.”
Elora’s eyes widen. “Oh. That’s… that’s good.” She glances at Shaw in uncertainty. “You understand this is a lot to process, right? I want to believe you, but how do we know your arrival isn’t part of some horrid plot to steal another of our women away?”
My flush deepens. How could she think I would ever bring danger to her doorstep? “You’re just going to have to trust me.” The words are glass in my throat.
“What is he like?” Shaw asks. Like the majority of Edgewood, he’s curious of the North Wind—and terrified.
“Cold.” Or maybedistantis a more apt description of his character. In his desire to remain separate, he struggles to connect with others. Not for the first time, I wonder why that is.
