Page 63 of Twin Crowns

“I’m glad to see you survived the night.” Thea was awake and sitting in her rocking chair. Her long white hair was pulled back in a braid, and she was smiling.

“Good morning,” croaked Rose. Her headache flared at the sound of her own voice. Goodness, isthiswhat drinking did to a person? She felt as if she’d been dragged through the Ganyeve and then left in the sun to bake.

“Since you’re awake, I thought you might want to join me for some early morning fishing.”

The mere mention of fish made Rose’s stomach roil. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling my best.”

“The sea air does wonders for a person.” Thea’s dark eye crinkled.“Especially if that person has perhaps indulged in too much wine.”

Rose winced. She did not care to be teased while in such a fragile state.

“Or you can stay here until Banba wakes,” Thea went on serenely. “But I should tell you she tends to be at her grumpiest in the mornings.”

Rose sat bolt upright and swept the tangled hair out of her face. “I’ll come with you.”

Rose dressed in one of Wren’s drab gray tunics and matching trousers and hastily braided her hair before following Thea down the narrow cliff path, holding her breath until they were safely back on the sand. It was early yet, and Rose was relieved to see they had the beach to themselves. She didn’t know if she could face any of the witches just then. Or maybe ever again.

As they drifted toward the shoreline, she flinched at the reflection of the morning sun on the water. Her footsteps slowed as the pain in her head worsened. She didn’t want to be here, in this desolate place, so far from the comforts of home and the people she had left behind. She hated feeling so afraid and alone. And then there was the pressing matter of her twin sister, a veritable thief who was planning on stealing her crown!

“You look just like Wren when you scowl like that.”

Rose turned her glare from the too-bright sea and settled it on the woman next to her. She sensed from their meeting the night before that Thea was inherently kind, and something about that kindness—offered so freely and without expectation—made everything worse. It was easier to remain steely in front of her fierce grandmother, butThea’s warmth made Rose want to curl up into her and cry, and shecould notdo that. The yearning to do so made her even angrier.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Rose hotly. “Since I’ve never met her.”

“Ah,” said Thea, in that irritatingly soothing lilt. Before she could say anything more, Rose kicked the sand, sending it flying everywhere.

“I don’t know anything, apparently!” she fumed. “I don’t know about stupid witch queens and kings. I’d never evenheardof Ortha—the placeorthe person—or Banba, for that matter! Everything I thought I knew about my own mother was wrong, and to top it all off, I didn’t even know the most important thing about myself! That I’m a bloody witch!” She kicked the sand again and hit a rock instead. Rose swore as she lost her balance, staggering into the cold water. The icy bite of the Ortha Sea brought back bad memories of last night.

“It’s not my fault, you know!” She stomped through the water, sending sea foam flying everywhere. Her voice got shriller as she whirled on Thea. “That I’m not precious, clever Wren! That I was raised in the palace instead of this place! Everyone here hates me for something that I had no control over!”

Rose took a shuddering breath. There. Letting out some of her anger had helped, if only a little.

Thea, who had patiently endured her tantrum, simply smiled. “I know it isn’t your fault, Rose. And everyone here doesn’t hate you.” She stepped into the sea. “I think it might help if I did something with that headache of yours, don’t you?” When Rose didn’t respond, only glared harder at her, the old woman raised her hands slowly, as though Rose were an animal in danger of startling. She placed them on Rose’s head, her thumbs lightly grazing her temples. “Close your eyes. Breathe inthe sea air and breathe out the pain.”

Rose bristled. “I really don’t think—”

“Hush now.”

Rose did as Thea asked, if only to get it over with. One breath in, another breath out. Again, and then again. Her shoulders relaxed, and a strange rush of warmth coursed through her. The edges of her mind began to tingle and then suddenly—so suddenly she almost missed the moment when it happened—the pain disappeared. And along with it, the rage that had overtaken her.

“Oh.”Rose opened her eyes and realized the sun didn’t hurt anymore. “Perhaps I should learn how to heal myself next time.” She grimaced at the thought of ever drinking again. “Not that I plan on there being a next time.”

Thea released her. “I’m afraid a healer cannot work on herself, Rose.” She ran an absentminded finger along the edge of her eye patch, and Rose cringed at her own thoughtlessness. “With each of the five crafts of magic, there must be a balance, and this is ours.”

Rose tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help her stirring curiosity.

As if sensing her thoughts, Thea said, “I lost it in Lillith’s War. I’m afraid healers don’t often make good fighters. We feel pain too deeply. Our own and others’.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rose, and she was.

“I’m glad I was there.” Thea smiled sadly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”

Rose wondered how many other witches here possessed stories like Thea’s. Had their lives changed forever because of the war Willem haddeclared in her mother’s name? Did Rowena and her ilk try to punish Rose for it last night, or did their hatred toward the Valharts run deeper, older?

The water lapped at her ankles as she helped Thea unmoor a small fishing boat from the rocks. The old woman pushed it into the waves, then hopped into it with surprising sprightliness.

Rose waded through the shallows after her. This thing was not strictly aboat. It was little more than a raft, browbeaten by the wind and half chewed by the sea. On the rare occasions she’d traveled on the Silvertongue, it had been on the Anadawn Royal Fleet, and those boats were so large you barely noticed you were even on the water. Which was exactly how Rose liked it.

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