Page 37 of Twin Crowns

Rose looked over her shoulder at Shen, her voice a frightened whisper. “Why have you brought me to the edge of the world?”

Shen kept his gaze on the cliffs. “Welcome to Ortha, Princess. Home of the witches.”

15

Wren

The day after her encounter with Rathborne in the rose garden, Wren’s attempts at avoiding Rose’s best friend came to a grinding halt. She had taken dinner in the dining room with Chapman, scarfing down braised beef, honey-glazed carrots, and roast potatoes, before departing for the library. There, under the excuse of evening study, she began to plan the Kingsbreath’s murder. In a place with so many prying eyes and ears, Wren needed to make a clean kill—something quick and untraceable. It wasn’t long before her research led her to poison.

Celeste found her tucked up in an armchair, buried under a mound of historical tomes.

“Got you!” she crowed as she swept into the library. Wren snapped her chin up, her heart suddenly clattering in her chest. Rose’s best friend matched the description she had memorized—she was tall and slender, with deep brown skin and black curly hair that bounced just a little with each step. She had arched cheekbones, warm brown eyes, and lips that were curved and smirking.

Wren shoved the pamphlet about poisonous plants she had been secretly reading down the side of her armchair just as Celeste pluckeda book from Wren’s lap. It was a mind-numbing treatise on the trading laws of Eana. She held it aloft by one corner. “You’ve been taking this whole coronation thing far too seriously lately,” Celeste said, wrinkling her nose. “I keep telling you, Rose, atrulygood queen knows how to let her hair down.”

Wren yanked the book back, pretending to care about the drivel inside it. “Can’t I wait until the crown’s on my head first?”

Celeste stuck her tongue out at her. “I want my best friend back. I miss our sleepovers.”

“Chapman thinks I can’t keep anything in my head. I’m trying to send him a message.”

Celeste perched on the arm of Wren’s chair. “Since when have you cared what Chapman thinks?” She was so close now that Wren could smell the jasmine in her perfume. “You should be far more concerned about my opinion, and frankly, I can’tbelieveyou’ve been avoiding me!”

Wren pulled a face. “I had an awful headache. Didn’t Chapman tell you?”

“Oh yes, he told me you were too out of sorts to see your best friend, but you certainly weren’t too ill to go on dates with your newlover.” Celeste reclined dramatically across the top of the armchair. “Don’t tell me that’s important coronation business, too. I feel as if I’m being replaced.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Wren got to her feet and busied herself putting away the stack of books. “I tried to get out of seeing Ansel, too, but he’s just so...attachedto me.”

“Well, you’ve changed your tune. You wouldn’t stop talking about his floppy hair and ‘poetic heart’ after your first date. You even wentand commissioned a cake for him, for goodness’ sake.” Celeste’s laugh tinkled around them, and Wren relaxed a little. Rose’s best friend was a breath of fresh air. It was a shame Wren had to live in constant fear of being caught out by her.

“Well, of course IlikeAnsel,” said Wren, deftly covering her misstep. “But I suppose there’s more to love than nice hair and pretty words.”

Celeste arched a perfectly manicured brow. “After all these years, I’m glad to see you’vefinallystarted listening to me.”

Wren laughed breezily. “Only on rare occasions.”

Celeste got to her feet. “And speaking of good hair and pretty words, I must tell you about my escapades with Archer Morwell, you know, the blacksmith’s son? The one with theshoulders. I’ve been meeting him down by the mill.”

“You mean he hasactualshoulders?” Wren fanned herself. “Don’t tell me he has a nose, too.”

“Andquitea mouth.” Celeste waggled her eyebrows, and Wren laughed again. Shen was her closest friend in the world, but he’d projectile vomit if she ever tried to have this kind of conversation with him. Perhaps she had been missing out.

“Tell me every sordid detail,” Wren said eagerly. “I’ve been starved of gossip.”

Celeste threaded her arm through Wren’s. “I’ll tell you on our way to the kitchens. Cam’s been asking for you.”

Down in the kitchens, Wren stared in silent wonder at the Gevran ice cake Rose had commissioned. It was a work of art. Five layers of white sponge had been painstakingly sculpted to resemble a glistening castle.It was lavished with ivory frosting, a silver mist curling around its base, while delicately spun sugar dripped like icicles from each mouthwatering tier.

“It’s incredible,” she said breathlessly. “It looksjustlike Grinstad Palace.”

Cam, the head cook, stood behind the cake in his apron and white hat, beaming like a proud parent. “Well, I certainly hope your prince agrees. I told you I’d get it right eventually.”

It was late. The kitchens were empty, save for the three of them, the air warmed by the glow of the ovens and the comforting flicker of firelight. Wren smiled at the cook. She had liked him immediately. He was short and plump, with a round smiling face, tanned skin, and hazel eyes. She was impressed, too, by her easy rapport with him. Against the odds, her sister had managed to find some true friends at Anadawn.

Celeste traced a whorl of frosting. “So, when can we sample this magical cake, Rose?”

“Hands off the masterpiece!” Wren swatted her hand with a spatula as the fireworks of a glorious plan exploded in her mind. If she was going to poison Willem Rathborne, then she would need the perfect opportunity. “I’m going to serve it at a special welcome dinner for Prince Ansel in three days’ time.” She beamed at her own cleverness. “It will be a small, private affair.”With just a sprinkling of poison. When Celeste’s face fell, Wren was quick to reassure her. “Don’t worry, you’re still invited, of course. And I’m going to invite Willem, too. I’ll send word to Chapman first thing in the morning.”

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