A Friend
Cohen
Cason’s voice. His deep magical voice is perhaps the only gift from the sea that seems to actually assist us. Without it, we would have had to rely on Cormac’s charm. What a joke that would be.
The three of us gather in the small room Cason got us. It’s the fifth one we’ve stayed in since leaving the castle. Cason didn’t have the heart to get us a suite knowing we weren’t going to pay for it. I guess he was right for that. Now he sits on the edge of a small cot, worry in his eyes. His frame too large for the bed, too large for the room it seems. I feel crammed into the small space with the two of them. We haven’t seen Wren in so long. We’re right back to square one.
Cormac’s body is extended, his feet up on the table leaning himself back in an old wooden chair that looks as if it’ll break in two under his weight. He is humming a song I’m not familiar with but it still manages to get on my nerves.
He’s too calm. I hate it. His calmness is making me crazy.
“So where is Wren?” Cason speaks up, his hair loose around his shoulders.
This conversation is one we have almost nightly. We’re stuck in this rut, searching for her. It’s like we’re cursed all over again.
“That fucknut probably has her locked away in his personal torture chambers.” Cormac grimaces.
“We are lucky. Lucky the king didn’t have us made into a kabob on one of the guard’s swords the second Nash flipped his lid.” I stop my pacing to look over at my brothers. Cormac's face still holds harsh hues of blue. His lip’s split down the center.
“Okay, you’re the one who threw the punch,” Cormac says to me in an accusing voice.
“Yeah, Cormac? Just be happy you haven’t been on the receiving end of my fist recently.” This bickering makes it hard for me to think. “I'm leaving.”
With alert eyes, Cason looks up at me, scanning my face before slowly nodding.
“So where are you going?” Cormac is almost sneering.
“Fuck off, Cormac.”
Swiftly I turn. I pick up the jacket and the clothes, also thanks to Cason. It’s not hard to leave my brothers in this dank room when I’m so full of aggression. I just need a break.
No one looks my way as I leisurely exit the building; just another man on the street.
Kicking at a few small stones along the old cobbled roads, I attempt to clear my mind. The rock of the road still remains, the original path laid by their ancestors, people who have lived and died ...
I’m walking right in the heart of the city. Small cottage like shops have their doors open inviting the townspeople to venture in. Lining the road, business signs hang, swinging in the cool breeze from the ocean. The familiar smell of salt tinges the air, clinging to my skin.
With my hands in my pockets, I can’t help but examine each person passing by. People roam the roads, much as I do. Most probably having plans to shop or stock their homes with food.
My whole body stills, while a restlessness begins to beat within my chest the moment I see her. Her lips pull tight, thinning with worry. She is a portrait of beauty, somehow mistakenly hung within the streets of the poor; Wrenley.
I was used to how she was always radiant, full of life. Now she looks almost sad. No smile flickers across her gorgeous face. Her hands tightening and releasing in the fabric of her gown, as if fighting an imaginary battle.
While she walks, her expression is unflinching but her head is still held high. As people meander by her she nods and smiles out of habit before ducking her head down to hide. The mischief that normally danced in her eyes lays dormant.
She’s trapped. Trapped like I was in the sea except she’s trapped in her normal, lonely royal life.
Each step I take is thought out and careful. Just an ordinary man running into an old friend on the street. The road’s clear of any carriages as I shove my eagerness down within me, leisurely strolling to the Princess's side.
My nerves tingle through my body as I casually bump my shoulder into hers.
She smiles up at me, not taking the time to recognize me. Wren drops her eyes to her feet, then back up in a jerking movement until those beautiful eyes light up as they settle on mine.
“Cohen?” she whispers, a grin teasing her lips.
I take no time as I whisk her into my arms, hugging her against me. The warmth of her small frame as she curls around me spreads pleasantly over my skin.
“Wren.” Is all I can manage as my voice is swallowed within her soft hair. With hesitance, she pulls away from me, her hand still lingering along my arm. A humming feeling sifts through me from her simple touch. Wren looks around me, my brothers nowhere in her sight.
“I … I didn’t know what happened to you. To Cason and Cormac. Everyone’s alright, right?” The weight of her body shifts from heel to heel, an uneasy movement.
“We’re fine. Don’t worry about us.” I bite at my lips that seem to tingle with the memory of hers. “You? You’re good? Safe? Where are you staying? Why are you out alone?”
Her head tilts at me, her bright eyes scanning over every inch of my body.
“Walk with me. I‘ll show you.”
With a nod, I follow. She’s unhurried. The destination, one she obviously has little interest in returning to.
“So, my Princess,” My lips tug up at my own claim. She is mine. Or at least I hope and pray. “Your father thinks it’s better to hide you away? Should you not be at the castle kissing babies, sending out well wishes to your kingdom and such?”
A laugh shakes through her small body. The loose and free noise calms my soul while I watch it clear the worry from her face.
I missed her. More than I should.
“You’re funny.” Her head tips up as she narrows her pretty eyes at me.
A smirk tilts my lips from her careless compliment.
“It’s a punishment. I’m supposed to be hidden from ruffians like you,” she says.
Her delicate finger comes up to point at me. My own fingers reaching up and slowly intertwine with hers. Together we pause, neither of us taking another step until she brightens red and drops my hand.
“What’s the matter?” I question, not bothering to fight the concern that falls on me.
“Nothing.”
“Wren, with women, nothing is always something.”
In her silence, each step drags on. My heart beats louder as my unsure eyes jump from the ground, to the passing shops, to her face.
Her teeth, bright white, run over her bottom lip, “I’ve just had some weird dreams lately and … with all this wedding planning ... I don’t know. I just feel off, I guess.”
The simple word wedding fills me with irrational anger.
A reminder that she isn’t mine.
Not at all.
Wren stops. Her feet coming together as we stand at the entrance of a large estate. The lawn is flawless and well-manicured. It’s framed by stone walkways that lead to a grand brick mansion.
Her arms raise in show. “Here we are, this is Hazel’s.”
Large double doors stand tall at the front. Dozens of glossy windows shine across the brick building.
“Which one’s yours?” I point to the house.
I’m sure she’s locked away safely in the tallest tower.
Not that that’ll stop me.
She turns to me, her smooth dress skimming my hip. I keep my hands safely to myself as I stare down at her beautiful eyes.
“Why? Planning to come visit me soon?”
My head dips low, her soft hair brushing my jaw. “They couldn’t keep me away.”
Long locks skim my shoulder as she tilts her head toward me, studying me closely.
“I have a friend I want you to meet.”
Friend.
The word sounds odd in her mouth, uncomfortable. Nervous.
It’s the last thing in the world I thought she might say to me.
“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Princess.”
I tilt my head at her strange behavior. The gravel at our feet become the focal of her attention.
“He’s kind.” Her brows pull together. “Kind of.” A small smirk pulls at the corner of her lips. “He led me to the sea witch, though. He helped us.”
“He did what?” The tone of my voice is harsher than I expected.
“I found a witch,” she says more confidently. “She was confusing”
“What did she say? She didn’t hurt you did she?”
I’ll never stop searching the depths of the dark ocean until I hunt her down if that witch did something to Wrenley.
Swiftly she shakes her head.
“She said I had to set you free. I had to set all of you free. I don’t know what that means.” She shakes her head once more before meeting my eyes with a strange look in her gaze. “Will you meet him? My friend. Ledian.”
She likes him. Suddenly I feel as lost as she does.
“Does he … appreciate you?” If he hurt her I’ll kill him. I don’t even know him and I’ll still find a way to end him.
“Appreciate?” she repeats with a small smile.
Wrenley might not understand her own emotions. She might not realize how obvious she really is.
But I see it.
I see her, every part of her.
“Is he good to you? Respectful.” I push her hair back from her smooth features. “Sweet.” I lean into her, my chest brushing hers. “Caring.” I swallow hard before I speak again. “Loving.”
Her lips part with a half-smile.
“Cohen, I barely know him. He isn’t loving. I doubt he even knows how to be.” She scoffs and glances down at the minimal space that separates us. “He’s nice. He helped us. He’s a little bit like you.”
“How so?”
Hesitant fingers skim up my chest, my heart storming to life beneath her touch.
“He’s protective. Funny. Smart.” Her hand travels up to my neck, soft fingers drift along my skin. “You’ll like him.”
I lean into her, my lips skimming her cheek, wishing I had the nerve to kiss her again.
“If he kept you safe, then I already like him.”
It’s that simple. He was here when I wasn’t able to be. If she likes him, if she trusts him, then I’ll figure it out.
My emotions aren’t fragile. My feelings for Wren aren’t something delicate.
They’re demanding and strong and if she wants me—if she cares for me—then that’s all that matters.