Wren Ashvale's Arc

Chapter 3 of 8

Dax's threat still hung over the castle. If Elmwood backed his old claim, the lords could void Wren's match before the vows. Wren needed proof that Elmwood no longer stood behind Dax. The eldest lord told him where to find it. Alora's grandmother ruled a village that rode the back of a great tortoise, and she had signed the Elmwood promise long ago. Only she could unmake it. Wren waited by a shallow pool as the tortoise came. Its shell rose into a mossy ridge, and small houses clung to the stone. The huge beast stopped and lowered its head. A stair unfolded from its side. Alora walked beside Wren, one hand near her chest. Her grandmother met them at the top. She was small and sharp-eyed, with silver braids and a cane she did not seem to need. She looked Wren over like a fish at market. "So this is the honest one," she said. "The other one sent word ahead of you." Wren's stomach dropped. "Dax was here." "This morning." The old woman tapped her cane on the shell. "He wants me to honor Elmwood's old promise. He says my granddaughter belongs to him." Alora stepped forward. "I chose Wren, Grandmother. Before the lords. I accepted his bride-price." "I heard." Her grandmother's eyes stayed on Wren. "But Elmwood's word is my word. If I keep it, Dax's claim lives, and your match dies." Wren said nothing clever. He had learned pretty words bought him nothing here. He knelt on the wet shell. "I burned my old name to stand honest before your court," he said. "I will not lie to you now. I love her. Dax wants Elmwood, not Alora. Ask him which he would give up first." The grandmother studied him a long moment. Then she turned to Alora. "Show me," she said. Alora went still. Slowly she pressed her hand flat against her chest, over the hollow where no heartbeat sounded. Her grandmother nodded, as if she had always known. "The promise was made when you were a baby," the old woman said. "Traded like grain. I signed it. I have regretted it since." She lifted her cane and struck the shell three times. "I unmake it. Elmwood withdraws. The old claim is dead." “Your heart is hollow due to the fact of the old rites, when you marry and have a baby with your true love, your heart will no longer be hollow.” Alora let out a breath. Wren rose. The tortoise shifted beneath them, and a house door creaked open, then shut. "Go," the grandmother told them. "But Dax rode here first. He knows I would refuse him." Her eyes narrowed. "A man who plans for refusal has a second plan. Watch the roads home." Wren looked toward the castle in the distance. He had killed the claim. Elmwood stood behind him now, not Dax. Yet Dax had come and gone before them, unhurried, already knowing the answer. The old claim was ash. Wren felt no relief. Dax had never fought for a promise he expected to lose.