Page 58 of Twin Crowns

Beside her, Celeste rolled her eyes. “AndI’mas hungry as an ice bear. Not that anyone seems to care.”

“We have to wait for Willem.” Wren glanced at the door, where Tor was standing guard. She winked at him, and to her wicked delight, he blushed. Their walk the night before had been entirely innocent, not to mention all too brief, but in the darkness when there was no one else around, it felt as if something forbidden had begun to stir between them. Something Wren was quite enjoying.

Celeste sighed dramatically. “Five more minutes, then I’m starting.”

“Chapman said the Kingsbreath would be here.” Wren twisted the napkin on her lap, trying to calm her nerves. Everything hinged on tonight. If the Kingsbreath didn’t show up, she would have to findanother way to poison him, and that could take days or even weeks.

The formal dining room was bedecked in splendor. A stately fireplace crackled at one end of the room, casting a warm glow about the table, where four places had been set. Crystal candelabras dangled from the high ceiling, twinkling along the rich battle tapestries that hung from the walls. Wren’s gaze was drawn to a depiction of the Protector’s War, ghoulish-faced witches burning in the background while the Valhart army raised their swords in victory.

She looked away only to find herself caught in the storm of Tor’s gaze. She shifted in her seat. The vial of devil’s root was cool against her ribs, but her cheeks were flaming hot.

Ansel noted her discomfort and misread it. “Tor is part of the furniture, my flower. Pay him no mind.”

“That’s some armoire,” declared Celeste, just as the door to the dining room swung open. Willem Rathborne stalked inside, followed by two palace guards.

“You’re here,” said Wren, relief bringing a smile to her face. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

Rathborne didn’t apologize for his lateness. He glazed over Wren with a brief nod, settling his attention instead on the prince. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

Prince Ansel stood to shake his hand.

Rathborne looked wretched in the flickering candlelight. He was thin as a spindle, and his pale skin had adopted a grayish hue. Shadows pooled beneath his eyes, and the hair around his temples was fraying. It was obvious he wasn’t sleeping at night, and Wren knew from Celeste that he’d been anxious about something. Well, the only thing heshouldbe nervous about washer.

“Willem looks like a corpse,” whispered Celeste.

Wrenhmmed in agreement.After tonight, he’ll be one.

The feast began with appetizers—delicately whipped salmon mousse topped with chives and served in a flaky crust of pastry. Celeste moaned when she took a bite, and though Rathborne insisted his guard test-taste the first mouthful for anything untoward, he eventually devoured three in quick succession. Wren was too anxious to eat her fill. She was so close to Rathborne, their elbows were brushing and the vial of poison felt like an ice cube against her skin.

It didn’t help that Tor’s attention was glued to her, the towering soldier hovering just a few feet from the table.

“I must thank you for hosting such a delightful dinner in my honor, Rose,” said Ansel between courses. “I may be but a prince, but tonight you have made me feel like a king.”

“You’re most welcome, Your Highness,” said Rathborne, taking the praise for himself. He turned his hawkish gaze on Wren. “I have raised Rose to be thoughtful, like her father.” He patted her hand, and the unexpectedness of his touch built a scream in Wren’s throat. “She is as agreeable as they come.”

A sudden choking sound came from Tor’s direction. “Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Whatelsedo you like about Rose, Prince Ansel?” probed Celeste. “Apart from her beauty, of course.”

“Well, the princess is an excellent chess player... not to mention a spirited pianist!” Ansel winked at Wren as he tapped his fingers along the tablecloth, reenacting her disastrous runaway melody. “I can assureyou, my flower, there are no dastardly river spiders in Gevra. You will be free to fill the halls of Grinstad Palace with your music.” He smiled at Celeste. “You needn’t have any worries about Rose. She’ll come to enjoy her new life in Gevra just as much as I am enjoying my time here. Give it a few moons and she’ll be reveling in the cold.”

Wren stiffened in her seat.

“Wait a moment,” interrupted Celeste. “What do you mean Rose’snew life in Gevra?”

Rathborne cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose the cat is out of the bag now.”

Ansel bit his lip. “Oh dear. Me and my big mouth. I know you wanted it to be a wedding surprise.”

That was certainly one way of putting it. The depth of Rathborne’s betrayal shouldn’t have surprised Wren, but she found herself struggling for words.

She turned on the Kingsbreath. “You intend to ship me off to Gevra?”

“Oh, come now, Rose, darling. Where did you think you would live once you were married?”

“Here in Eana, surely,” said Celeste, beating Wren to indignation. “Rose can’t be an absentee queen. And Ansel isn’t even the king of Gevra!”

“Well, not all of us aspire to such dizzying heights.” Ansel smoothed his napkin on his lap. “I’m perfectly happy being a prince.”

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