Page 33 of A Kiss of Flame

‘I suppose that would do,’ Lynette said thoughtfully. ‘Yes, very well. Good thinking, Carlotta. Fetch some flowers. We’ll use them instead.’

Carlotta bobbed into a curtsy again and left, taking the gold thread with her.

Wren gave a long sigh of relief and Lynette took her hands, leading her over to one of the chairs in the corner. ‘You’re shaking like a leaf. What happened? Are you feeling quite well? Perhaps you’re doing too much, all this nonsense about swords and magic.’

She was exhausted. But none of that mattered. Not anymore. Not the stupid rules and regulations of her life, the cogs and wheels of the court of Asteroth which ground on around her… Neither did learning to fight, or use magic. It wouldn’t do her any good. Nor would having Finn here. None of it mattered.

She couldn’t explain it to Lynette. It was no use.

In a few days’ time, Elodie’s trial would begin and, one way or the other, Wren’s fate would be fixed.

A knock on the door distracted them. Anselm stood outside, Olivier behind him. Both of them looked cagey and uncertain.

‘What’s wrong now?’ Wren asked, before anyone else said anything.

‘I need to talk to you,’ said Anselm. ‘I would have come sooner, but I had to be sure. It’s about Finn.’

CHAPTER 16

WREN

‘What do you mean, his cousin?’ Wren asked Anselm. She couldn’t believe it but Anselm wouldn’t lie. He had no reason to and he looked no happier about this turn of events than she was.

‘The ambassador they’ve sent is Lady Hestia Rayden, Finn’s cousin. Her mother was sister to Alessander and her husband died several years ago.’ He waved a list of names that must be those of the other attendants. ‘The party arriving today is the rest of her staff. I know of most of the names. Finn can’t trust a single one of them.’

Wren made a face and turned towards the window to try to breathe in the air. The room suddenly felt constricting and hot. ‘Well of course he can’t. No one can. They’re Ilanthian.’

The words came out before she thought and she gasped when she realised what she had just said. Finn was Ilanthian too. He was a prince, whether they accepted that or not. But, from what Anselm had observed, it sounded like they did. Or at least this Lady Hestia Rayden did.

And that worried her.

‘I didn’t mean?—’

‘I know,’ Anselm assured her solemnly. ‘And you are absolutely right. We’ll double your guard, especially for this ball. You shouldn’t be too close to any of them. There will be a strict list of those who may dance with you and if you aren’t sure, check with Lynette. Or Olivier and me.’

The lady-in-waiting bowed her head carefully. Wren had a feeling that the strict list would be getting shorter and shorter by the second.

‘And Finn?’ she asked.

He winced slightly, then shook his head. ‘He’ll be keeping a close eye on them as their liaison and their escort. He will have to. They won’t let anyone else near them anyway. You must keep your distance, Wren.’

From Finn. He was warning her away from Finn. She couldn’t quite catch her breath for a moment. She had been looking forward to seeing him again, hoping he would come back, and now it seemed that would only be from a distance, for one night, and in front of a whole ballroom full of people. The thought of that made her ache. Not to touch him, not to spend time with him. Not that she wanted to dance at this nightmare of a ball but if it was with him at least… But Finn was firmly embedded amongst the Ilanthians, and it sounded like his cousin intended to make sure he stayed there. And so did Anselm.

‘Will he be safe?’

He was in the Ilanthian embassy after all, stuck there. She had a vision for a moment of a poison slipped into a glass, or a knife in the dark. And she wouldn’t be able to help him. While he might not be far away, it might as well be the other end of the land. She couldn’t go to him. That was clear. And now she wasn’t to go near him when he was close by.

Anselm didn’t try to palm her off with soft and conciliatory words. At least there was that. ‘Finn can look after himself, I promise you.’

‘But I don’t understand why they’re coming here,’ she protested. ‘They hate us. They always have done. Leander tried to?—’

‘For the trial,’ Lynette interrupted her, obviously deciding that rehashing old history wasn’t helping anyone. Wren had never seen her so upset. Oh, she hid it well. Her perfect mask was still in place, but Wren could hear it in her voice, and in her words. ‘The queen’s trial. Everything else is a front. This so-called peace offer, the embassy, everything. They want to see Elodie suffer and they want to be here if she’s found guilty. No doubt they’ll want a front-row seat to any execution planned as well. This is madness. Why is Roland allowing it?’

Anselm shrugged.

‘The council decided, not Roland. He and Yvain argued against it, my lady, but the others… It’s traditional, as they’re so fond of saying. They invited representatives of all the neighbouring kingdoms, even the College of Winter, although few of the others deigned to come. They presented him with it as a done deal and will not listen to his arguments. They say he’s biased.’

Lynette shook her head as if at a great folly. ‘Well of course he is. We all should be. Not so very long ago they tried to kill us all. They almost succeeded. What is Ylena thinking?’