Songbird

Chapter Twenty-Four - Wedding

Wren was in her room plucking listlessly at the guitar she had been given when there was a knock at the door.

"What do you want?"

It swung silently open to admit a maidservant with wiry gray hair pulled up into a neat bun. She carried a plump sewing kit slung over one shoulder.

"Good day, miss," she said. "My name is Brinya. I'll be taking your measurements and a few other things. Down to your shift, then, if you please."

Wren frowned at the door. "Did you lock the door behind you? I don't want any guards leering at me."

"That I did, miss, no need to worry."

Reassured, Wren obeyed, goosebumps dimpling her skin as the older woman measured her neck, shoulders, bust, waist, and hips, as well as the length of her arms and legs, writing down each number on a small pad.

"There we are." She tucked the measuring tools back into her bag when she had finished. "Now, a few questions. How old are you, miss?"

"Sixteen." Wren put her dress back on and wrapped herself in a blanket, sitting on the edge of the bed.

That was also recorded on the pad. "And is your virtue intact?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you a maiden?"

"I know what you meant," Wren said. "If I say no, will you let me go?"

The maid shook her head. "Unfortunately not. Yes or no, girl."

"Yes...though I don't see why it matters, then." But if only she had known that things would turn out this way, she would have given everything to Kal that night in Arbor.

"Lady Briar wished to know, nevertheless."

"The children," Wren said. "What of the children? Are they being properly taken care of?"

The maid nodded. "That they are," she said. "They've been given rooms in the western wing of the manor."

Wren could have wept with relief. "Oh, thank goodness..." At least there was something to be grateful for.

"Shall I bring them a message from you?" Brinya asked. "For the next time I see them?"

"Oh, I wouldn't..." But there was something. "Sing them a song for me."

Brinya inclined her head. "I will do my best," she said. "Though this old bag could never compare to the Songbird of Bellhaven."

Wren blinked, surprised. "You know that name?"

"Many do," Brinya said. "Rumours travel on crow's wings, so they say. Even in the land of my birth, in the eastern mountains, tales are told of the Songbird."

It wasn't especially surprising, Wren supposed, but now the reality sank in—this would never end. Even if she were to escape, Briar Drake would not be the last collector to seek the Songbird.

Her eventual wedding had been a constant point of discussion in Wren's life. Even when she was a child, shortly after Mother and Father had adopted her, there had been meetings with other families and their sons that they hoped would be her future husband. Back then, it had all been so exciting. She had thought that the boys she met would be her friends, even after she became wife to one of them. And she had thought it romantic to be promised to someone.

Then she had met Raven. He was handsome and charming, intelligent and well-read, and a great dancer. But it hadn't taken him long to show his true colors, like so many of the others that just wanted to possess her, to use her for their own satisfaction. After that, she had stopped taking them seriously, stopped believing their gilded words. They couldn't hide their leering eyes.