WREN
Tavrin appeared between me and the balcony doors, wings flared wide enough to block my view of the drake entirely, his whole body shaking.
“Tavrin.” I touched his arm. The heat coming off him could have lit kindling. “I need to see.”
A sound from deep in his chest. Not agreement. Warning.
“I know who it is. I need to face him.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t stand down. But he didn’t attack either.
“Please.”
The heavy thump of the landing drake, a cough from behind him.
“Tavrin.” I didn’t look away. Couldn’t.
Slowly, he shifted. Not stepping aside. Just angling his wing enough that I could see past him while he remained between me and the door.
Uncle Aldric looked exactly the same. Gray hair oiled back from his forehead. Expensive coat, slightly too tight across the middle. The calculating eyes that had watched me work for years, always measuring my value against my cost.
Behind him stood a hired guard. Big. Armed. Already calculating whether his pay was worth dying for. I watched him look at Tavrin, look at the distance to the drake, and take one small step backward.
“Wren.” Uncle spread his hands, palms up. The concerned guardian. “Thank the gods you’re alive.”
I cataloged his tells without meaning to. The sweat at his temples despite the mountain cold. The way his eyes kept flicking past me to Tavrin, measuring, calculating. The slight tremor in his voice that could read as worry but I knew was fear.
He was terrified. And he was here anyway.
That meant he was desperate.
My hand found the compass in my pocket. The one Tavrin had carved my name into, letter by shaky letter. I wrapped my fingers around it and held on.
“I’m fine,” I said. “You wasted a trip.”
“Fine?” He gestured at Tavrin. “Look at him, little scribe. Look at what he’s become. That’s not the man you married.”
Little scribe. A life of hearing that. Of being reduced to my usefulness.
“I didn’t marry a man. I married a Roc.”
“A monster.” He shook his head, performing sorrow. “You married a monster, and now look at you.”
He took a step forward. Tavrin’s wings snapped wider, a wall of bronze and black feathers, and uncle froze. The guard took another step back.
“You see? He’s territorial. Aggressive. He can barely control himself.”
“He’s controlling himself right now.” I kept my voice even. “If he wasn’t, you’d already be dead.”
Uncle’s mask slipped for just a moment. I saw the flash of genuine fear before he smoothed it away.
“Come home, Wren. We can void the marriage. The 30-day clause exists for exactly this situation. You made a mistake. You were desperate and frightened and you chose wrong. No one will blame you.”
“I didn’t choose wrong.”
“What kind of life is this?” Uncle’s voice sharpened with frustration. “Trapped on a mountain with a creature who looks at you like prey?”
“He looks at me like I matter.” I kept my voice flat. “You never did.”
