Page 69 of Twin Crowns

“I know,” said Wren quickly. The steam was curling the tendrils of hair around her face, and she was suddenly conscious of her enchantment. “But it’s a lovely day outside. I thought maybe we would go for a walk instead.”

“I want to talk where we won’t be overheard.” The steam thickened, casting a haze about Celeste’s face, so Wren couldn’t read her expression. “Father says the Kingsbreath is gravely ill. He fights for every breath.”

Wren tensed at the reminder. “Poor Rathborne. I’ve beenso—”

“Willem,” said Celeste.

“What?”

“You called him Rathborne just now.” Celeste’s dark brown eyes flashed through the steam, keen as a hawk’s. “You never call him that.”

Wren swallowed. “Willem, then.”

“Father can’t find a cause for his sudden illness,” Celeste continued. “He suspects he might have been poisoned.”

A bead of sweat trickled down Wren’s spine.“Really?”

“He even asked for my account of the dinner.”

Wren went very still. She recalled how Celeste had knocked her into Rathborne, sending the frostfizz flying everywhere. She had been hoping it really was an accident, but the back of her neck was beginning to prickle. “And what did you tell him?”

“I told him I didn’t see anything.”

Wren exhaled through her nose. “Perhaps Willem is allergic to frostfizz. Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll get to—”

“But I think I did see something.” Celeste pitched forward, her face appearing in a cloud of steam. “You tampered with his drink.”

“What?” A strangled laugh seeped out of Wren.

“I thought I imagined it at first,” said Celeste. “It was so quick, so unexpected. But then I watched you watch him. It was as if you werewillinghim to drink.” She planted her arms on either side of Wren, pinning her to the seat. “I was already suspicious, of course. You were acting strangely all night. You’ve been acting strangely for a while now.”

Another bead of sweat dripped off Wren’s nose and pooled in the hollow in her collarbone. She felt suddenly as if she was in a heat-addleddream. She dipped her hands in the water and splashed some on her chest. “I think the steam is toying with your memories, Celeste.”

Celeste’s frown sharpened. “Whoareyou?”

“I’m your best friend,” said Wren, but anxiety trilled in her voice. Her composure was slipping. The steam was stinging her eyes and filling her throat, and she was finding it hard to breathe.

Celeste was steel-eyed in the heat. “You arenotRose.”

“You’re being absurd, Celeste.” Wren stood up abruptly. “If I don’t get out of here now, I think I’ll evaporate.”

Celeste shot to her feet and grabbed her shoulders. “What’s my horse’s name?”

“Lady,” said Wren, without missing a beat.

“What are you most afraid of?”

“Drowning.”

“What amImost afraid of?”

“A life without adventure.” Wren guessed that last one, but she could tell by the disgruntled look on Celeste’s face that she was right.

Celeste tightened her grip, her nails digging into Wren’s collarbone. “Remember after my mother died, you decided we should sneak into the kitchens when everyone was asleep and eat our fill of pear tarts, and the following morning, when Cam found me asleep by the stove and covered in crumbs, you leaped to my defense and swore on all the stars in Eana it was the palace rats that did it.”

“Of course,” said Wren, without blinking. “How could I forget something like that?”

Celeste pursed her lips. “That never happened.”

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