Page 112 of Twin Crowns

Rose averted her eyes and dipped into a shallow curtsy.

Alarik raked his gaze along her body, his grin turning feral. “Perhaps you will fit in better than I thought. Our furs suit you.”

Anika threw her head back and laughed. “Alarik, you wicked beast, don’t toy with Ansel’s bride. The poor thing is clearly petrified.”

A snow leopard padded out from behind the Gevran princess and caught the edge of Rose’s skirt in its teeth.

“Oh no!” Rose clutched the material, trying desperately to hold it together.

“Voldsom! You are as naughty as Alarik!” Anika clucked her tongue.“Release!”

The snow leopard obeyed at once, and with her cheeks burning, Rose hurried away.

Alarik’s laughter followed her all the way across the courtyard.

As she approached the elaborate ice sculpture, Rose spotted Celeste moving through the crowd. She was wearing a magnificent purple dress trimmed in thick white fur, and she was holding a glass of frostfizz aloft. When her best friend sashayed past, Rose slipped the key into her waiting hand. Celeste winked at Rose over her shoulder, and then nodded up at the ice sculpture. “The likeness is uncanny. Some might even say it’s yourtwin.”

Then Celeste swanned off toward the drinks table, smiling at anyone who looked her way, as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Celeste didn’t need magic, Rose thought as she watched her friend melt into the crowd; she had enough charm to enchant anyone.

Now that she was alone, Rose tilted her head back to examine the sculpture more closely. Oh,stars.Was that meant to beher? And the male figure... was that—?

“There you are, my frosty little flower!” Ansel ambled over to her, looking as unsteady under his ice-bear ensemble as Rose felt in her fur. “I see you’ve noticed my special surprise! That’s us, Rose. Carved in ice, under our Gevran god, the Great Bear, Bernhard. It’s a blessing for our future together.”

“It is... truly... something,” Rose managed.

“And just think, this time next year we may have our own cubpitter-pattering around.” Ansel laughed gaily. “And when I saycub, I of course meanbaby. How do you feel about the name Ronsel? In honor of both of us.”

He looked expectantly at her.

“Ronsel?” she said weakly.

Ansel nodded, his eyes so big, they looked like pools of seawater. Rose felt an awful twinge of guilt for how she was going to end their betrothal tomorrow, but to tell the prince now would scupper their chances of bringing Rathborne to justice. There had to be a wedding in order to expose him. She could only hope that one day Ansel would forgive her for ruining it.

She placed a gentle hand on his arm just as something across the courtyard caught her eye. “My darling, it looks as if they’re about to cut into the roasted squid. Isn’t that your job?”

Ansel gasped. “Too right you are! It’s the groom’s duty to cut the first ceremonial slice of squid!” He turned promptly on his heel, jostling his way to the table.

Rose exhaled. The pungent smell of roasted squid mingling with the scent of wet fur and raw meat was suddenly too much to bear. And the beat of the drums hammering against her skull was starting to give Rose a headache. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, she slipped out of the courtyard to steal a moment alone.

The rose garden was blessedly empty. Rose drifted into the heart of it and sank onto her favorite bench. For a luxurious moment, all was silent. And still.

Then came a suddenwhooshfrom somewhere over her head, followedby a rippling breeze. The roses trembled.

The bench groaned under a new weight.

Rose whipped her head around.

And found herself staring into Shen Lo’s night-dark eyes. “Hello, Princess. Miss me?”

39

Wren

Wren was sitting under a tree in the orchard, frowning at the key in her lap, when she heard footsteps behind her. She had retrieved the key from Celeste only moments ago, slipping through the shadowy gardens and around the east wall so as not to be seen by any wandering Gevrans or their beasts. Except this one.

Even though it was dangerous—not just for her but for Rose, who was expertly playing her part at the feast—Wren had been secretly hoping that Tor might find her tonight. The reckless part of her still yearned for his company, burned for his touch. She tipped her head back at the sound of his approach, the end of her braid grazing the grass. “I had a feeling you’d sniff me out sooner or later.” She glanced around, making sure they were alone. But the soldier was careful. Far more careful than she.

Tor watched Wren from the stone entranceway, one hand resting on the crystalline pommel of his sword. Tonight, he was dressed in full Gevran regalia, the collar of his navy frock coat lined in velvety gray fur. Elske was at his side. The midnight moon turned the white of hercoat a soft, shimmering silver. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” he said in a low voice.

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