Irene opened her eyes…and the darkness of Bonestrod had shattered.
All around, emanating from the heart of Irene’s arrow, exploded a blazing white light. It undulated in shimmering waves, bursting through her and around her, enveloping every corner of the room. There was a heat burrowing into Irene’s palm. A power.
She glanced up, hands shaking, and met Silas’s gaze. Something was glinting in his eyes. A look that made Irene’s chest tighten. A blanket of goose bumps covering every inch of her skin.
Pride.
When Irene dropped the arrow, letting it clatter to the floor, the light vanished, darkness falling upon Bonestrod once again. She didn’t understand why it had worked—whyherarrow had burned the brightest of them all. If the arrows were strengthenedby true, unwavering loyalty to Blackwood…then did that mean Irene’s loyalties had shifted? Whether she was conscious of it ornot?
Irene shivered as another question burned its way through her mind. She thought she could ignore it, push it away, force it to the periphery, but there was no escaping it now. It echoed in her mind, unrelenting, demanding an answer.
Whose side am I really on?
Irene was afraid to find out.
29
WREN
As Wren gasped awake, thrust back into reality, she immediately became aware of three distinct things.
She was in a tent she didn’t recognize.
She was wearing a dress.
Callum Whitlock was standing in front of her.
The Demien stared at her as though she were something to eat. His teeth skimmed his bottom lip, his green eyes blazing with hunger as he took in the sight of Wren standing in front of him. Wren’s own eyes traveled downward, inspecting her outfit. Silky black waves cascaded down her body, iridescent beads swirling over a tight bodice. Her arms and back were exposed, two thin straps pressed against her shoulders, crisscrossing over her back. The hem of the dress seemed to ripple and move, as if caught in a breeze, candlelight reflecting against the shimmering black fabric. She had no recollection of changing, and the mere thought that somebody had put their hands on her while she’d been unconscious, even if it had been just to dress her, made her want to keel over and vomit.
“Stunning.” Callum let out a low whistle and prowled closer. “Just absolutelystunning.”
“What—” Wren coughed, fighting to find her voice. Her throat felt raw. Swollen. As if she’d been screaming for hours. She probably had been. “What’s happening?”
“It’s time for Equinox, of course.” Callum strode closer, a mocking lilt in his voice. “Oh, come now, Wren. You didn’t think we’d leave you out, did you? You’re the catalyst! The star of the show. But don’t worry, once the festivities are over, you’ll go right back to your sessions with Edith.”
Wren tried to back away, to run, but her limbs were frozen.
“I can’t move,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Callum chuckled.
“That would be my fault.” He inched closer, head cocked. “You see…I like you better this way.” He extended his hand, fingers reaching for her lips, but Wren spat in his face before he could.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she said, seething.
Callum wiped his face with eerie calm. When he stared at Wren, she saw a flicker of anger behind his eyes, but there was also a perverse sense of excitement. As if he’d been hoping she’d put up a fight.
