Page 65 of Twin Crowns

“Willem is too clever. He’ll see right through Wren, and when he does, he’ll come looking for me with two armies at his back.”

When Thea didn’t respond, Rose went on. “Wren will never make it to the throne. She’ll be lucky to escape with her life.”

Thea gave her a pitying look. “You don’t know our Wren.”

Rose bristled at those words.Our Wren.That was what the witches who had attacked Rose the night before had called her sister, too. Wren was precious to everyone in Ortha. She had been blessed with a family of witches. They had raised her, taken care of her, and loved her for exactly who she was. She had everything Rose never had, and it still wasn’t enough for her. She wanted the throne of Eana, too.

My throne, said a voice inside Rose’s head. A spark of anger ignited inside her at the thought of giving up what rightfully belonged to her.

Wren had the witches. Let her keep them.

And let Rose keep the throne that was her birthright.

After all, she had not grown up in a palace, starved of true love, living with her parents’ murderer, for nothing. If this was the trade-off, so be it. Wren did not get to have it all. She did not get her family and Thea and a lifetime of magicandthe throne of Eana. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair!

Rose glanced at the shore, and as though she had summoned her with her thoughts of the previous night, Rowena came striding down the beach, her long blond hair streaming through the air behind her. She was watching Rose and Thea in the boat, her arms folded across her chest.

Thea followed her gaze. “I’m afraid it’s no secret here how you feel about the witches, Rose.”

“Can any of you blame me?” said Rose. “I have spent my whole life believing that witches are responsible for every bad thing that has ever happened to me. And I’m not alone in feeling that way. If someone so much as sneezes in Eana, they say a witch must be passing by. When the corn crops failed last autumn, everyone said it was the witches who did it. When an Eshlinn boy drowned in the Silvertongue River, his mother swore a witch had cursed him. Every time a violent storm blows in, we fall to our knees and pray to the Great Protector to keep us safe from the witches.”

“And do you believe such rumors now?”

Rose wrung her hands. “I don’t know what I believe. But I don’t feel safe here,” she said, her eyes darting back to the shoreline. “These witches want me dead.”

Thea weighed her own words carefully. “There are some who think it would be easier that way.”

Hearing it said so bluntly sent a new fissure of fear through Rose. “Why did Shen bother to bring me here, then? Why didn’t he just kill me in the desert and be done with it?”

“Because Shen, despite his craft, is no ruthless killer. And more important, for every witch here that may wish you ill, there are many more who want to welcome you home. And no one more than your grandmother, though Banba may have a hard time showing it. You will get used to her ways.”

Rose was about to say she had no intention of getting used to anything here in Ortha when a piercing screech rang out. “Whatisthat?”

Thea turned her head sharply. “That sound, young Rose, is pain.”She pointed toward a cluster of rocks jutting out from the cliffs. “There. Do you see it?”

On one of the rocks, a wounded gull was thrashing. Even from a distance, Rose could see its wing was bent. Every time the bird tried to lift into the air, it shrieked in agony.

Her heart clenched. “The poor thing won’t last very long out here.”

Thea eyed her carefully. “You could heal it, you know.”

Rose shook her head. “I want no part of magic.”

Thea raised a brow but didn’t question her. Instead, she rowed toward the crying gull, the fishing net drifting with them. The bird squawked as the boat drew level with the rocks.

Rose covered her ears, but her heart clenched painfully. The pull toward the injured bird was difficult to ignore. “Hurry up and heal it.”

Thea set the oars down. “I’m not going to heal it.”

Rose glowered at her. “Then you are just being cruel.”

“No crueler than you. You can heal the bird, too.”

“Youare the healer.”

“We are both healers, Rose.” When Rose didn’t respond, only glared harder, Thea reached over and scooped the flailing gull into her hands. She held it out to Rose. “Your gift moves inside you. It is time to accept it. It is time to know this part of yourself.”

Rose squeezed her eyes shut. “No. And you can’t make me.” She sounded like a spoiled child, but she didn’t care. What had happened with Shen in the hot spring had been an accident, a memory she desperately hoped to forget in time. But if she healed something again, on purpose and with intention, it would mean she had chosen to live as a witch.

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