Page 91 of Twin Crowns

Rose opened her mouth to scream and sand poured into it. She flapped her arms, trying to break the surface, but she was caught in the desert tide, and the dune was a whirlpool now, determined to swallow her up.

She gagged as the sand filled her nose, the last of her energy quickly ebbing away. She flung her hand out desperately, and just as the desert folded over her, she brushed against something solid. She grabbed on to it, twining her fingers in a familiar black mane.

With a determined whinny, Storm pulled her from the jaws of the Ganyeve Desert. Her hooves were firm on the restless sand, her gait steady as she dragged Rose to safety. Back on the dunes, Rose coughed the sand from her lungs and used the last morsel of her energy to clamber up onto the horse’s back. As they set off in a thundering gallop, toward a gold mountain rising in the distance, she curled her arms around Storm’s neck and wept with gratitude for the desert horse that had just saved her life.

31

Wren

Wren dressed in gold for the official Welcoming Ball. It was to be the first of three celebrations, which would culminate in her wedding to Prince Ansel, and though she had no intention of making it to that particular ceremony—or indeed to the Gevran Feast that would fall the night before it—she still wanted to look her best tonight.

After all, she was the crown princess of Eana. More or less.

She had renewed her enchantment with careful precision that afternoon, banishing the freckles along the bridge of her nose and the strands of honey in her hair before Agnes arrived to help her with her dress. It was truly a thing of beauty, the tight corset rendered in delicate black-and-gold lace, the skirts cascading around her like melted sunlight. Soon, every inch of Wren was cinched to discomfort, her breasts so high she could practically rest her chin on them. Agnes had arranged her dark hair in loose curls that tumbled artfully down her back. The apples of her cheeks were tinted with soft blush, a rosy hue to match her lips, while her eyelids were shadowed in a shimmering bronze that made the green of her eyes shine even brighter. As she stood in front of the mirror, primped and preened to perfection, shealmost didn’t recognize herself.

She felt... well,ravishing. Her dagger, which she had tucked discreetly against her hip alongside her pouch of earth, made her feel deadly, and it was that which brought the smile to Wren’s face. After her conversation with Tor in the rose garden last night, she had resolved to take back control of her destiny. Tonight, while the noblemen and -women of Eana danced and mingled with the Gevrans, she was going to slip away and deliver Rathborne’s death, swiftly and silently.

A nation in mourning for their beloved Kingsbreath couldn’t possibly celebrate a royal wedding in two days’ time. There would be a funeral instead of a wedding, and as Alarik Felsing’s best-laid plans fell away, Wren would reinstate the coronation she was owed and seize control of Eana. Once she was Queen, with her fate and that of Eana resting firmly in the palm of her hand, there would be no alliance at all. She would send the Gevrans back to their sunless land with their feral king and frightening beasts.

Agnes stood back to look at her. “Oh, Princess Rose, you are truly the jewel of our nation,” she crowed. “I dare say King Alarik will envy his brother when he sees you tonight.”

“I almost envy him myself.” Wren swished her skirts to and fro. “I’m avision.”

It was certainly an improvement on the other morning, when Alarik had seen her shivering and sopping like a river rat. Wren had chosen the fanciest of Rose’s dresses to repair that awful first impression. Once Chapman relaxed at the sight of her glowing like the sun and the icy Gevran king was taken up with the evening’s festivities, she would slipaway and find her way to Rathborne’s bedchamber.

All being well, she would make it back in time for the waltz.

The ballroom at Anadawn Palace was a feast for the senses. It was a sprawling chamber in the heart of the palace, its arched windows peering out at the finest gardens in all of Eshlinn. The walls were lavished with beautiful art, gilded frames climbing toward a glass-domed ceiling that welcomed the full spectacle of the night sky. Tonight, the stars sprinkled pinwheels of silver light along the floors while candelabras burned brightly from the inside, casting a dreamlike glow about the room. Servants milled among the gathering court, carrying platters of bread and cheese and finely sliced meats, carafes of heady wine and goblets bubbling with frostfizz.

The minstrels were already playing from the balcony when Wren arrived. Members of the Anadawn court, dressed in their finest splendor, bowed to welcome her, while Celeste skipped over in a trailing sapphire dress. Her curly hair was pinned away from her face with delicate gold hairpins, and her lips were painted a deep crimson.

“Rose! There you are!” she said breathlessly. “Have you been hiding from me? I feel as if I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Wren stiffened without meaning to. She hadn’t been this close to Celeste since the day she had enchanted her by the lake. Now she was terrified that one wrong word might raise enough suspicion to break the spell. She quickly summoned a smile. “I’m so sorry, Celeste. I’m afraid Ansel has been keeping me busy,” she said breezily. “True love can besotime-consuming.”

Celeste arched a manicured brow. “Listen to you! You’re hardly inlove with him already, are you? It’s only been a few weeks.”

“What can I say? When you know, youknow.”

Celeste’s smile faltered. She looked a little closer at Wren. “‘When you know, you know,’” she repeated to herself.

Wren took a careful step away from her. Celeste opened her mouth to say something else, but thankfully, she was interrupted by Chapman, who came skittering toward them in an elaborate green frock coat. “What are you two chatter merchants doing over here by yourselves?” His face twitched as he waved his parchment scroll around. “For goodness’ sake, go andmingle.”

He shooed Celeste toward a gaggle of Gevran noblewomen who were laughing raucously by the dance floor.“Mingle!”

Then he turned back to Wren, the end of his quill tickling her nose as he jabbed it at her. “It’simperativethat you make a good impression tonight, Rose. The Kingsbreath will be counting on it!”

Wren flashed her teeth. “I’ll make it a night to remember.”

Just then the ballroom doors swung open, welcoming a parade of new faces. The Gevran soldiers came with their beasts, gray wolves and white leopards and prowling snow tigers leashed in iron chains. The animals turned their watchful stares on the crowd, their canines glinting golden in the flame light. Eanan nobles gasped and recoiled in horror while some fainthearted courtiers set their goblets down and scurried swiftly from the room.

“By the Great Protector!” Chapman’s mustache had begun to tremble.

Wren glanced sidelong at him. “What’s the matter, Chapman? Didn’t you invite the beasts?”

His face paled. “I thought their forbiddance wasimpliedby the very nature of the event,” he said in a strangled voice.

Wren snorted. “Then you must know very little of Gevra.”

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