Ch. 34 The crown is heavy

Chapter 34

To fight off the giants would have been useless. Not that she could.

Birdie was encapsulated in the protective bubble Wren had captured in before being pounded on by the glass giants. She felt like a fish in a fishbowl as Taft, one of the giants, carried her into the sand palace in the palm of his shimmering hand. The other giant carried Wren and the silver haired woman. Birdie watched them with her hands against the shield, her eyes never leaving Wren until they came to a splitting path and Taft began to take a turn.

"No, wait!" Birdie banged on the shield. "Where are you taking him?"

The woman with the silver hair spoke in a low voice to the others as they all rushed forward to help her carry Wren away.

"Where are you taking him?" Birdie demanded once more.

But her words fell on deaf ears. She was helpless as the giant carrying her began to descend down a dark stairwell and into a cellar. Torches lit up the narrow passage that was just big enough for the giant to shimmy through.

"What is this place?" Birdie asked, looking around.

"The pit," Taft's heavy voice rumbled.

"Why am I here? Where is she taking Wren?"

"The Prince will be taken care of."

"Taken care of?" Birdie felt a lump in her throat. "How?"

"Princess Esma will heal the Prince."

"That woman....she's a princess?"

"Our princess," Taft said.

"Why does Wren get special treatment and I get the pit?" Birdie frowned.

"You're a moor," Taft said.

"Are you sure?" Birdie arched her brow. "Look at me....I'm a fey."

For a split second, Taft hesitated. He looked down at the bubble in his palm and slowly lowered his nose to take a whiff of Birdie.

"You're a moor," he said with confidence. "You smell like a moor."

"Are you going to eat me?" Birdie stared up at the giant. "I have a family you know. And I am a princess too. My baba is the sultan and my mom is the witch supreme. I come from a long line of powerful kings and queens."

Suddenly, the giant began to chuckle, making Birdie wobble.

"A crazy moor," he said. "Sultan of what? The glass lands?"

Birdie didn't reply as she heard the iron gates of a jail cell be pushed back. She backed up against the shield and braced herself as Taft lowered and rolled her into the cell.

"Stay here," he said, tapping on the shield like a fishbowl.

"Really?" Birdie huffed. "Damn, there goes my plans of sneaking out of here and rolling away like a hamster."

"Ham-ster," Taft tested the word out on his glass tongue.

"A fearsome monster with sharp teeth and paws of vengeance," Birdie said. "I would hate to summon one here and terrorise your people."

Concern flashed across Taft's hard face. He looked at Birdie for a few seconds before ducking out and slamming the iron gates shut. His heavy footsteps marched off into the distance leaving Birdie to sit in her bubble in the dark cellar.

Wren, Birdie opened her mind-link. Are you alright? Where are you?

Holding her breath, Birdie stood as still as she could. She wished she could make her heart beat slower as she waited for a response.

Wren...

Surrounded by darkness and silence, Birdie began to notice how cold the cellar was. She began to shiver. Her teeth chattered and her knees began to ache. Her breaths came out in puffs of smoke as she waited patiently for her mind-link to open once more.

Wren?

"Birdie," Wren called out her name from where he was laid in one of the chambers in Princess Esma's quarters.

"Your grace," Esma leaned over to smooth back Wren's dark hair.

"Birdie," Wren sighed, his hand reaching out.

Esma looked down at the prince's hand. She placed her own hand in it and intertwined their fingers together. Leaning forward, the princess let her long locks hang down the side of her face as Wren gripped her hand tightly.

"My little bird," Wren smiled, slowly fluttering his eyes open to see the veil of silver hair.

"Hmmm," Esma cooed as she summoned her magic to the surface of her skin. She knew when Wren opened his eyes, he would be seeing the girl she had thrown into the pit.

"Are you hurt?" Wren asked, his heavy lids pushing back so he could look at the girl holding his hand.

"No," Esma shook her head. "But you are. So please just lay back and rest. I've been healing you."

"It's those damn giants," Wren closed his eyes once more and pulled Esma closer. "I swear if they hurt you, I won't spare them."

"Will you protect me?" Esma smiled, placing her chin on his chest.

"With my life," Wren smiled, feeling his head sway and his insides warm with the healing spell. "This could take a while, sultana. You know you can't heal as fast as me."

"We can spend a while here," Esma said. "Would that be so bad?"

"No," Wren chuckled but immediately wrenched from the pain.

"Lay back, please," Esma said gently. "You'll hurt yourself."

Wren did as he was told. He gazed up at Birdie as she loomed over him and healed the cuts on his face. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he admired the way her hair fell over her shoulders, making the white of her dress seem like snow against her skin.

"I like your dress," Wren lifted a hand and brushed the back of his knuckles along the plunging neckline. "It's very pretty."

"Thank you, your grace," Esma smiled.

"Your grace?" Wren chuckled. "Since when do you call me tha-"

Wren still as Birdie's face shifted beneath her hair for a second.

"What's wrong?" Esma placed a warm hand against Wren's face.

"Did I hit my head?" Wren asked, trying to sit up.

"You did," Esma nodded.

"Next time, don't go around just blasting anyone, okay?" Wren leaned back against the headboard. "Especially not with my magic."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Wren narrowed his eyes and peered at Birdie.

She's so fuckin flawless, he found himself thinking as he looked into her silver eyes and rosy cheeks.

"Come here," taking her hand, Wren tugged Birdie closer to himself. "I missed you."

"I'm right here," Esma giggled, nestling into the space between Wren and the pillows.

"You really need to listen to me more," Wren said, lowering his lips to her ear and then placing a kiss on the side of her head.

"I will," Esma nodded, her breathing growing uneven. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Almost," Wren traced his lips along the side of her face. "If you had listened to me, then we wouldn't be in this mess."

"I'm sorry," Esma's eyes fluttered close.

"You should be," Wren whispered, coming to a stop by her ear once more. "You deliberately disobeyed me. How should I punish you?"

"Whatever you think is the best punishment," Esma's breathing laboured.

"I own you, little bird," Wren said.

"You do," Esma moved closer.

"I can think of really fun ways to punish you," Wren watched the girl's face. "But first, I need you to tell me where my little bird is."

"Wh...what do you mean?" Esma asked, her eyes still closed and her body aching for Wren's touch.

"Where is Birdie?" Wren asked.

Esma's eyes flew open. She found Wren's dark eyes locked on her as the muscle on his jaw tightened.

"Your grace...." Esma reached up to touch the prince' face. "I don't understand."

"Let me help you understand then," Wren pushed her hand away and rolled out of bed. His legs wobbled before he found his footing and his eyes began to adjust. "Where is she?"

Esma sat up in bed and stared at the prince. She watched him shake his head and rub his eyes as if to wipe away her spell.

"Why do you look like her?" Wren asked, pointing at the look-alike on the bed.

"It's a simple spell," Esma shrugged. "You see what you desire."

"End it."

"Why?" Esma slid off the bed and walked up to the prince. "I believe you were about to punish me."

Wren's mind continued to play tricks on him as he stared into Birdie's silver eyes. Eyes that were filled with need and longing.

"Wren...." Esma stepped closer. "I'm yours....I belong to you."

Wren swallowed a groan as his body did not register with his mind. He knew the girl standing before him was most definitely not his little bird. But the way she looked at him with those eyes and the way her dress wrapped around her body, pusing and shaping up all sorts of fun parts of her....Wren couldn't think straight.

"Don't you want me?" Esma looped her arms around the prince. "I want you. We can spend the night here...and you can give into your desire."

"Get out of my head," Wren stepped back, shaking his head once more.

"Wren," Esma whined. "Please. Touch me."

Wren's stomach twisted. He lifted his hand and gripped the girl's throat and jerked her forward. The fear he saw flash over the silver eyes made him grow concerned until he reminded himself that he was not holding Birdie.

"I don't appreciate you messing with my head," he said through his teeth as he began to tear apart her spell.

The image of Birdie on Esma's face shook as Wren's magic burned through Esma's spell. The girl's real face began to shine through as she struggled to breath in the fey's deadly grip.

"Where is she?" Wren asked slowly, pulling Esma closer.

"In....the ... pit," Esma choked.

"Bring her to me," Wren released Esma and stepped back, feeling himself grow restless.

As he watched Esma back out of the room, Wren sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair.

Birdie? He called out through his mind-link.

Wren!

Are you okay? Are you hurt?

I'm fine. Are you okay? How are you still alive?

I was healed.

By who?

Long story, Wren sighed. Listen, I'm getting you out of the pit okay. Just hang on, someone should be coming to get you out.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Wren stilled, What?

Why are you looking at me like that? Just open the door.

Wren began to rise from the edge of the bed, Birdie...are you with someone right now?

Wren, you're creeping me out.

"Shit," Wren said through his teeth as he realised Esma was probably playing her trick. Birdie, that's not me. Do not listen to them right now. It's probably Esma.

The shield will hold, right? Birdie asked.

Yes, Wren said. It'll hold. You're safe. Just follow them upstairs to me.

Okay...

Keep your mind-link open.

Got it.

Wren began to pace the floor as he waited for Birdie to arrive. His heart pounded in his chest with worry, his mind spinning with thoughts of what Esma would do. She wouldn't be able to touch Birdie, but would she say something stupid. Birdie wouldn't believe her. She would see right through the princess's tricks like Wren had.

Where are you right now? Wren asked, impatiently.

I don't really know, Birdie replied. A long hallway.

Are you out of the pit?

Yes.

Good.

Where are you?

You'll see me in a few.

Who's this next to me?

Wren stood by the door, his eyes waiting for it to open.

It's probably Princess Esma. She has a habit of playing...dress up, Wren said.

She looks just like you, Birdie said. But she talks weirdly.

I know, Wren wanted to chuckle, thinking of how Esma had called him "your grace" while pretending to be Birdie. He knew the blush on her face was too good to be true. When had he ever seen Birdie blush?

How did you know she's pretending to be you? Birdie asked.

Because she tried it with me when I woke up, Wren said. She pretended to be you.

Why?

"You see what you desire."

Esma's words flooded through Wren's head. His heart began to pound as he thought of Birdie.

You still see me? He asked.

Yes, Birdie said. She's been you the whole time.

The corner of Wren's mouth curved up just as the door to the bedroom opened. He felt himself let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding as his eyes fell on the correct girl with the silver hair.

"You look pretty good for someone who got pounded by giants," Birdie said, her eyes locking with Wren.

"Thank you, Sultana," Wren chuckled.

"Can you...?" Birdie pointed to the shield around her.

"Yes, yes," Wren tapped into his magic and lowered the shield. He felt a weight lift off his shoulder as the magic returned to his body. He has never casted such a strong shield in his entire life. He was shocked it had held while he was unconscious. "Come here."

"No. Why? Fuck off." Birdie narrowed her eyes and stared at Wren's outstretched hand.

Wren laughed once more and looked at Esma, "You couldn't be her in a million years."

Esma's face hardened as she shifted her weight. Her full lips pressed into a thin line as she looked from Birdie to Wren.

"My father would like to meet you," Esma announced, turning her attention towards Wren. "He wants to know what the most wanted royal of Pangaea is doing so far out east."

"I would love to meet him and explain why I am here," Wren said.

"Good," Esma turned to leave. "We'll see you at dinner."

"We can't wait that long," Birdie stepped forward. "We need to have an audience with him right now."

Esma slowly turned to face Birdie. Her eyes moved up and down with extreme slowness before she dismissed her and looked at Wren.

"We don't appreciate moors speaking to us here, Your grace," the princess said. "The only reason why Taft hasn't eaten her alive yet is because you kept her in a bubble."

"She's with me," Wren said. "And I don't appreciate you threatening my friends."

"Friends?" Esma arched her brow, her tone mocking the word. "Please, you two are more than friends....it's disgusting."

Before Birdie would say anything, Wren stepped forward and placed himself between the two women. He glared down at Esma as she glared up at him.

"My relationship with her is none of your business, Princess," Wren said. "Why don't you go run along and tell your father his guests are waiting and then maybe I won't tell him how you tried to screw with my mind."

"My father would never believe you," Esma smirked. "I'm his darling."

"Go get your father," Wren said with irritation.

With one last look over Wren's shoulder at Birdie, Esma headed out of the room. The pair waited until they could no longer hear her footsteps before singing and relaxing their shoulders.

"She's annoying," Birdie muttered.

"She can be," Wren said, turning to face her. "Did she say anything to you when she was pretending to be me?"

"No," Birdie shook her head. "Just a bunch of stuff that didn't make sense."

"Was it just me?"

"What do you mean?"

Wren took a step forward and raised a hand to place it against Birdie's face, "Did you see just me? Or did you see someone else too?"

"Why does it matter?" Birdie asked.

"It does," Wren clicked his tongue. "I need to know what she was showing you."

"Just you," Birdie said, looking into the fey's dark eyes.

"Good," Wren smiled, stepping a bit closer.

"Why are you healing me?" Birdie asked, feeling the warmth of Wren's magic flow through her veins. "I'm not hurt."

"You have a bruise forming on your forehead," Wren said. "I'm taking care of it."

"What about you?" Birdie placed her palm over Wren's chest.

"What about me?" Wren looked down, his eyes suddenly very playful and his mood light as air.

"Are you fully healed?"

"I don't know," Wren teased. "I think my ribs still hurt."

"Where?" Birdie asked, sliding her palm down his chest.

"Right here," Wren said, gripping Birdie's hand and pulling it back up to his heart.

"Let me heal you," Birdie said.

"I won't stop you," Wren smiled, feeling Birdie's magic trickle into his skin.

She was adorable to him. His injuries would never heal with just her strength but Wren wasn't going to tell her that. He pushed his magic into her so that she could unknowingly use it to heal him.

"You seem worried," Wren said, tucking Birdie's hair behind her ear.

"I was," Birdie sighed.

"About?"

"You," Birdie said. "I thought you were dead. The way the giants pounded you...."

"I thought you wanted me dead," Wren leaned down and whispered against Birdie's ear.

"I do," Birdie said, gripping the fey's shirt and pulling him closer. "But I want to be the one to kill you."

"You got it, sultana," Wren laughed, brushing his lips over her skin.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Much better," Wren nodded.

"Can I stop?"

"It still hurts a bit," Wren lied.

"Oh," Birdie frowned. "Do you have internal bleeding or something?"

"Esma took care of that."

Birdie made a small sound in the back of her throat that shocked both her and the prince. She looked up at him through her lashes as Wren arched his brow.

"Yes, little bird?" Wren asked.

"Nothing," Birdie shook her head.

"I thought she was you," Wren explained.

"You should have known better."

"I should have," Wren smiled. "She was too nice."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing!" Wren said quickly. "She was just very different from you."

"Different?" Birdie scuffed. "Okay."

"Not good different," Wren rushed with his words. "Bad different."

"Okay."

"I knew instantly it wasn't you," Wren continued.

"Okay, I get it," Birdie said with irritation. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

"You're right," Wren paused, a teasing smirk on his lips. "Why am I explaining anything to you?"

"I don't know!" Birdie pushed away the fey's hand. "You're having word diarrhea."

"Because I feel like I'm in trouble and I don't know why."

"You are in trouble."

"Why?" Wren asked in shock.

"I don't know!" Birdie clicked her tongue. "You're irritating me."

"Don't I always?"

"It's a bit extra right now."

"You're not making any sens-"

The door to the room opened and a short man with a thick moustache walked in. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes as Wren stepped away from Birdie.

"His royal highness, King Emrol, will be joining you for dinner tonight," the man announced.

"No," Birdie stepped forward. "We asked to meet with him right now."

"The king will join you for dinner," the man said once more, his voice stern.

"But-"

"Thank you," Wren placed his hand on Birdie's lower back.

The man bowed, "Princess Esma will have everything you need for dinner sent to your chambers."

"We appreciate it," Wren said.

The man bowed once more and headed out of the room. Birdie groaned as she balled her hands into fists and turned to face the fey.

"We don't have time to be sitting around waiting for dinner," she said. "Ira is looking for us, your uncle is looking for us, we need to have the key before it's the full moon."

"We can't rush the king, Birdie," Wren said.

"I thought you and your family were the supreme," Birdie frowned.

"We are," Wren laughed. "But this is still Emrol's territory. And he has giants."

"We're behind schedule."

"There is no schedule," Wren rolled his eyes.

"I don't like this," Birdie shook her head. "Something doesn't feel right here."

"Look at me, little Birdie," Wren grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. "You are safe. Nothing is going to happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I'll be damned before I let anything happen to you."

Birdie's breath caught as her eyes snapped up. She found herself diving head first into the navy blue sea of Wren's eyes as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

"I believe you were healing me," Wren said.

"You seem pretty healed to me," Birdie struggled to form words.

"It still hurts," Wren said.

Birdie nodded and placed her hand over Wren's chest once more. She felt the fey sigh and place his lips against her forehead as she began to heal him.

"Should we sit down?" Wren asked after a while as Birdie's body leaned against him.

Birdie nodded. She placed her head against Wren's beating heart as he carried her over to the bed and laid down, holding her in his arms.

"Tell me more about Earth," Wren said, lacing their fingers together.

"What would you like to know?"

"What do you like to do with your family?"

Birdie smiled, watching her fingers dance with Wren's, "I like to paint with my baba."

"You paint?"

"I do," Birdie's smile widened.

"What do you like to paint?"

"Anything and everything."

"Watercolours or oil?"

"Both," Birdie shrugged. "You paint?"

"A bit," Wren shrugged. "I'm not really good at it."

"I believe it."

Wren laughed, making Birdie shiver from the way he moved against her.

"Tell me about your family," Birdie said.

"What would you like to know?"

"What was your dad like?"

"My father," Wren sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "He was an extraordinary man. He loved nature and magic. He loved music, poetry and food. We used to host month-long fairs at the castle to showcase artists and musicians when he was alive."

"You sound like him," Birdie said.

"No," Wren shook his head. "I only inherited his books and stories."

"And more," Birdie sighed. "You obviously love your mother very much, you love his books and stories. You dedicated your life to finding Earth to keep his dream going."

"Some people may say I'm just looking for excuses not to take the throne."

"Do you want the throne?"

"My father used to say the crown is too heavy for bird's wings to carry."

"Are you afraid?" Birdie felt her heart beat faster.

"Of?"

"Taking the throne?" Birdie could almost feel the floors of the Tyveer court beneath her feet.

"It is frightening."

"It is," Birdie confessed. "The crown is too heavy."

"Then what shall we do, sultana?"

"Runaway," Birdie laughed, her eyelids growing heavy with sleep as Wren played with her hair.

"They will hunt us down."

"Then we shall run faster."

"They will set traps for us."

"Then we shall outsmart them."

"They will keep us apart," Wren said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

"Then we shall stay together forever," Birdie muttered, her eyes closing and her mind drifting off to sleep.

_____________________________

As the sun began to set behind the sand dunes, Birdie found herself struggling to lift her eyelids. Wren kneeled beside the bed and ran a hand through her hair as he gently nudged her to wake up.

"Rise and shine," he smiled as Birdie opened her eyes and pouted. "The king is waiting."

"Why didn't you wake me?" Birdie asked.

"You were finally getting some sleep without those nightmares," Wren shrugged.

"Give me five minutes," Birdie yawned. "I'll be ready."

"Um..." Wren looked over his shoulder. "You might need more than five minutes."

"Why?" Birdie's brows furrowed.

"Esma sent some stuff."

"Oh god," Birdie groaned as she began to sit up.

"Do you know how to wrap a dress like a Xaiban woman?"

"Why would I know that, Wren?" Birdie sighed.

"We need to dress for dinner," Wren stood up. "Let's go, get up. You can't show up to meet the king dressed in my clothes."

"What a shame," Birdie rolled her eyes.

"The bathroom is that way," Wren pointed as he handed Birdie the black dress and a towel. "The water is still warm."

Groaning, Birdie gathered the fabric of the dress and headed to the bathroom. She dropped the fabric onto the bench and stripped off her clothes.

"Birdie?" Wren called from the room. "Hurry up."

"Just a minute!" Birdie hollered back as she climbed into the tub.

She wanted to soak for hours. The hot water was like a blanket. It soothed her aching muscles and calmed her nerves. The bath oils smelled heavenly and sweet, trapping her into a state of bliss.

"Birdie," Wren called once more.

"Stop it, Wren," Birdie rolled her eyes.

"Five minutes."

"No."

"Yes."

"If you keep talking to me, I can't continue," Birdie laughed as she heard Wren mutter under his breath.

She quickly washed her hair and scrubbed herself clean before rinsing off with clean water and stepping out of the tub. Tightly wrapping a towel around herself, Birdie stared at the dress Esma had sent her. She had seen many women at court wrap the elaborate dress around their shoulders and neck. The few times she had worn one, Mina had been the one to wrap it.

Birdie pulled the dress up to her waist and covered her chest. She struggled with the two pieces of fabric that should be wrapped around her to complete the look. After several failed attempts, Birdie called Wren in frustration.

"I give up," Birdie said, her naked back towards Wren.

"Let me try," Wren stepped forward and pushed her damp locks aside.

Pulling the fabric back, Wren began to twist the two pieces and hang it over Birdie's slim shoulders. He braided the fabric down her back before looping it around her waist and then tying it behind her back.

"This will do," Wren said, turning Birdie to face himself.

"Did you do it correctly?" Birdie asked. "It won't come off or anything, right?"

"I'm 90% sure it won't," Wren laughed. "And I'm praying the other 10% comes true after dinner."

"Pervert," Birdie pushed him back. "Aren't we running late for dinner now?"

"Emrol made us wait for so long," Wren shrugged. "Maybe we should make him wait."

"No, no," Birdie shook her head. "Let's go. Now."

Chuckling, Wren stepped out of the bathroom as Birdie followed him. They stepped out of their chamber and looked at the guards. The little man with the moustache gave a nod towards Wren before leading them down the hall.

Wren reached back and took Birdie's hand as they neared the king's quarters. Their eyes began to scan their surroundings as they entered the large throne room.

"Prince Tamzin," came a voice from the head of the room.

"King Emrol," Wren gave a slight bow of his head.

"What a pleasure," the king, a tall and extremely overweight man, rose from the throne.

Emrol wore a lavish gold kaftan that dragged as he climbed down the steps. The many gold chains around his neck swayed as he smiled widely. It was then that Birdie's eyes caught on one of Emrol's necklace.

She gasped as she gripped Wren's hand and froze.

Wren, she opened her mind-link. Wren, the key...

Wren reached back and allowed himself to steal a glance towards Birdie. He found her eyes on Emrol's necklace.

He has the key, Birdie said.

"Who do we have here?" Emrol peeked at Birdie. "A present for me?"

Wren's whole body shifted. His eyes hardened as he pushed Birdie bhind himself and narrowed his eyes.

"She's mine," he said.

"I'm just joking!" Emrol laughed, placing a hand on Wren's shoulder.

"We are here for a very important reason," Wren slowly pushed Emrol's hand off his shoulder.

"I'm sure you are," Emrol nodded. "But I am waiting for our guest of honour to arrive."

Wren and Birdie looked at each other, their eyes filling with worry.

"Who are you expecting?" Wren asked.

"Oh, here they come!" Emrol looked at the door.

Wren and Birdie turned just as the doors to the throne room opened and palace guards in their all white uniform rushed in.

"Fuckin' hell," Wren cursed under his breath, pulling Birdie closer.

Suddenly, behind all the guards, Darrian walked in with a wicked smile on his face.

"Hello, son," he said, his eyes on Wren.

Oh nooooo! What now?