Oak draws Damsel Fly up short. The others stop as well; even Wren’s carriage skids to a halt, the elk pawing at the ground and shaking their heads as though wishing they could pull free from their harnesses.
Wren hops down fearlessly, her bare feet in the snow.
Alone, she walks toward them. Her dress furls around her as the wind whips at her hair.
Oak slides off his horse, sinking his nails into the palm of his hand. He wants to run after Wren even though he knows this would be a terrible moment to undermine her authority. Still, it’s hard to watch her, small and alone, standing before these massive, ancient beings.
One begins to speak in an old tongue. Oak sort of learned it in the palace school, but only ever as a language used to read equally old books. No one spoke it conversationally. And it turned out his instructor’s pronunciations were waaaaay off.
The prince is able to understand only the vaguest gist. They promise to watch over her lands until she returns. They agree to stay clear of the army but don’t seem to like the idea. Oak isn’t sure how Wren understands them—perhaps Mellith knew their speech—but she clearly does.
“We entrust these lands to you while we are away,” she says. “And if I do not return, make war in my name.”
Both troll kings sink to one knee and bow their heads to her. A deeper hush falls over the Folk standing witness. Even Randalin looks more awed than delighted.
Wren touches the hand of each king, and they rise at the press of her fingers.
Then she walks back, barefoot, to her carriage. Halfway there, she glances at Oak. He gives her a smile, a small one because he’s still a bit stunned. She doesn’t return it.
The procession moves on to the coastline. Oak rides alone and speaks to no one.
At the edge of the black rocks, where the waves crash, Tiernan dismounts. He says something to the Ghost, who signals to the ship with a waved hand. They cast off a rowboat to ferry the passengers aboard in groups.
“You should head over first, Your Highness,” the Ghost says.
Oak hesitates, then shakes his head. “Let the queen’s party go.”
Tiernan sighs with annoyance at what he no doubt sees as Oak’s objection to reasonable security. Oak is aware that it seems he’s just being contrary, but he refuses to give them an opportunity to sail once he’s aboard, leaving Wren to Elfhame’s army.
The Ghost gestures toward Hyacinthe, indicating Wren’s people should take precedence.
It’s a strange feeling, after being in captivity for weeks, to realize that no one here has the authority to make him do anything. People have been thrusting power at Oak since the beginning of Cardan’s rule, and he’s been avoiding it for just as long. He wonders if, after being stripped of so many choices, he has finally grown a taste for it.
Hyacinthe hands Wren into the boat. Her masked driver stays with the coach, though the footman climbs down and joins her, taking a seat in the front. The rest of her soldiers remain on the rocks as the crew-person who rowed to shore casts off again.
Oak watches in puzzlement. Surely, she isn’t going with that few attendants?
The storm hag dismounts from her bear. With a twist of her head, she transforms herself into a massive vulture. Giving a screech, she flies out to the ship, alighting atop the mast. And then, as if responding to some unseen signal, Wren’s soldiers become falcons. They soar up into the sky, leaving the sound of feathered wings echoing all around Oak.
“What has she done?” Tiernan mutters.
Oh, no one in Elfhame is going to like this. Wren didn’t just break the curse on the traitors; she turned it into a boon. She gave them the ability to turn into their cursed form at will.
The falcons fly to the ship, landing on the boom, where, one by one, they drop to the deck as Folk again.
Oak wonders if Hyacinthe can do that. He’s in a boat, so perhaps not. She broke his curse before she discovered the extent of her power.
When the rowboat returns, Oak gets in with half the knights of Elfhame accompanying him. At the ship, sailors help him aboard, then bow low. The captain introduces himself—he is a wizened man with wild white hair and skin the color of rich clay.
“Welcome, Your Highness. We’re all so glad the rescue was successful.”
“I wasn’t precisely saved,” Oak says.
The captain glances in Wren’s direction, a flicker of unease in his face. “Yes, we understand.”
As the captain moves to greet the Minister of Keys, Oak admits to himself that went poorly.
Then there is a great deal of negotiation over accommodations and storage, most of which the prince ignores. As the billowing white sails marked with the sigil of Elfhame rise, and the ship steers out into the sea, his heart speeds with the thought of going home.
And with what he will find when he gets there.
He stopped a war—or at least paused one. And yet, he is aware that bringing Wren into the heart of Elfhame puts the people there—people he loves—at risk. At the same time, spiriting Wren from her stronghold and separating her from the largest part of her defenders put her in an equally vulnerable position.
Wren knows that. And so does Jude. He must be very careful to keep either of them from feeling they must act on that knowledge.
He understands—or at least thinks he does—why Wren went along with his plan. She used up a lot of her power freeing the troll kings from their curse, and an engagement with the army of Elfhame, an army that could continuously replenish soldiers from the lower Courts, would be nearly impossible to win. After all, that’s what he’d been counting on when he put his ring on her finger.
And after some consideration, he believes he also understands why Bogdana wants them to go to Elfhame. She hates the Greenbriars, hates the High Court, and yet has long desired to see her daughter on the throne. If she was willing to trade a portion of her own power for Mellith to be Mab’s heir, then as much as she desires revenge, she must also long for a do-over. If Wren marries Oak, she will be in line to be High Queen. That has to have some appeal.
And if not, Cardan will be in Bogdana’s sights. She will have gotten closer to him than would be possible otherwise.
And Wren herself? He suspects she’s venturing to the High Court because she wants the Court of Teeth made officially hers. But, of course, he hopes that some part of it has to do with him. He hopes that some part of her wants to see where this goes. The last time they were together in the Court of Elfhame, they’d been children. He hadn’t been able to do much for her. Neither of them is a child now, and he can do better. He can show her he cares about her. And he can show her some fun.
Of course, Oak will have to keep his family from making things extra complicated. Jude will want to punish Wren for holding Oak captive. Cardan will probably still be a bit resentful if he thinks Oak is plotting against him. Cardan may even think Wren is part of a new plot.
And so Oak needs to show his loyalty to a lot of different people, keep Bogdana from hurting anyone, and get a treaty signed before a battle breaks out in the heart of Elfhame. Not to mention he has to do that while proving to Wren he isn’t out for revenge—and that if she forgives him, he won’t see it as a chance to hurt her.
Well, no time like the present to begin. Oak moves across the deck toward her. Two falcons step in his way.
“She is my betrothed,” Oak says, as though there is merely some misunderstanding.
“You ought to be her prisoner,” says one, low enough that he will not be overheard by the Elfhame contingent.
“Both those things can be true,” Oak tells him.
Wren frowns at the guards and the prince both. “I will receive him. I wish to hear what he has to say.”
Her guards step away, but not far enough to be out of earshot.
Oak smiles and attempts to find a tone to communicate his sincerity. “My lady, I wished to tell you how glad I was that you decided to accept my suit and return to Elfhame by my side. I hope you do not begrudge too greatly the manner in which the proposal was given.”