Shrike didn’t feel as though he deserved the credit.Particularly when Wren was already so clever and had made far better use of the knowledge besides.
“Regardless,” Wren continued.“He is known to me now as he truly is.And I have failed him utterly.If he’d not seen fit to rescue himself, Tolhurst would’ve ensnared him.He has hunted him for years.Ever since Daniel was a child.And I sent him to Tolhurst in the first place.”
“Where is Daniel now?”Shrike would cross all realms to rescue Daniel as well, if it would bring Wren peace.Just as soon as he knew Wren was safe.
“Free, for the moment.And likely forever—little thanks to me,” Wren added with a bitter laugh that became a cough.“He and his companion are en route to Canada as we speak.Assuming all has gone according to plan.”A thoughtful pause ensued.“We must look in on them after the solstice.”
Shrike readily agreed.He would promise Wren anything tonight.Wren deserved everything he wished—everything in Shrike’s power to grant him and anything beyond—as just reward for his survival.
“Tolhurst is dead, then,” said Wren.
“Aye.”
Wren’s gaze searched Shrike’s face.“You’re certain.”
Some centuries had passed since Shrike had last slain a mortal.Still he recalled well the familiar shudder, the rattling gasp, and how the eyes fixed upon forever.“I am certain.”
Wren hesitated.“Could you—that is to say, would you mind—asking the bones?”
Easier done than said.Shrike would’ve gladly undertaken a thousand far more difficult tasks if they could banish but a fragment of the fear that seeped through the cracks in Wren’s voice.He wasted not a moment in retrieving the bones from their pouch and casting them onto the floor.
Wren studied them with furrowed brow.“What do they say?”
“That he is dead, and his body lies in the mortal realm.”Nothing Shrike hadn’t already known.Everything of which he felt glad to assure his Wren.
A fleeting wince of a smile plucked at Wren’s bespeckled lips.“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”
A pang struck Shrike’s heart.Before he could think, he heard himself reply, “I’ll teach you to read them.”
Wren blinked.For a moment Shrike feared he’d overstepped and given offence.But then a truer smile graced Wren’s handsome features.“I’d like that.”
To see Wren smile again was more than Shrike had dared hope and everything he had fought for.Yet rather than return the gesture, his lips betrayed him by forming the words, “I should have been with you.”
Wren’s brow furrowed.“You were with me.”
Not soon enough.Not oft enough.Not close enough.Shrike tried again to explain.“He should never have had the chance to seize you in the first place.”
“I’m far more glad you were with Mr Grigsby,” Wren replied, to Shrike’s astonishment.“If Tolhurst had called upon him he should hardly have fared even half so well as myself alone.We only succeeded tonight because I could trust you to look after him.I knew he was safe in your hands and that gave me the courage to go forth and… well, stumble into trouble, I suppose, but all the same.My manuscripts are recovered.Daniel’s image is out of unworthy hands—or rather, in somewhat less-unworthy hands than before.And Tolhurst is…” His voice faltered.“Well.He’ll not harm anyone again.And that’s all thanks to you.”
Shrike knew not what to say.
So instead he let his gaze flick down to those perfect bespeckled lips and then again into the warm dark depths of his Wren’s eyes.
Wren seized him by the nape of the neck and drew him into a kiss.Hungry.Ferocious.Devouring and demanding to be devoured in turn, until, for want of breath, it faded into sweet familiarity and left them with their brows touching.
Only then did Shrike dare to twine his arms around Wren’s shoulders.
Wren burrowed deeper into Shrike’s embrace in turn.
Shrike clutched him tight.A soft sigh resounded in his ears and resolved into mere breath; stronger than before, no longer a strangled gasp.Pressed chest-against-chest, Shrike could feel Wren’s heartbeat thrumming through his own ribcage.A pulse that had very nearly halted forever.One which only strengthened Shrike’s resolve.
Woe betide any creature—mortal, fae, or beast—that dared harm his Wren.
Sentiment
It had required a draught of fae courage before Wren could even attempt the house-breaking.
Planning it had taken some weeks.The portrait of Daniel had given Wren the first inkling.In sketching and painting it he found himself thinking of the other commission he yet owed in a century and a day.Tatterdemalion had seemed to think it worthwhile to invest in what little talent Wren possessed at present.Whether that talent lay in art or spell-craft, Wren didn’t know.
