Page 122 of Twin Crowns

“Glenna, get back.” Wren tried to yank the woman out of harm’s way, but Rathborne was quicker. He flung her into a birdcage, her bones cracking as she crumpled to the floor. “I’ve had quite enough of your babble, witch.” In one fell swoop, he brought his dagger down across the old woman’s throat.

Rose screamed as she reached for Glenna, but the seer was dying, blood gushing from the wound in her neck. Rose pressed her hands against it, trying desperately to stanch the flow. “I don’t think I can save her! There’s too much blood!”

Rathborne raised his knife again, but Wren was on him in a heartbeat, knocking the dagger from his grip as she wrestled him to the ground. He opened his mouth to shout, but she slammed her fist into his jaw. He smashed his forehead into hers, and Wren reeled backward, seeing stars. Rathborne grabbed her wrists and crushed them against his chest. “Enough,” he snarled, holding her still. “Stop fighting.”

Wren spat in his face.

Glenna’s dying words spilled out in ribbons of blood. “Break the ice to free the curse. Kill one twin to save another.”

She collapsed with a final gurgle, her milky eyes staring unseeing at the faraway moon.

Rose crawled toward Rathborne in her tattered dress, through blood and grime and dust and her own streaming tears. “Youmonster.”

“Careful now, Rose, darling,” he threatened, but his hands were full restraining Wren. “I’d hate to see you get yourself in any more trouble tonight.”

Rose grabbed the dagger from where it had fallen. She staggered to her feet, rage and violence flashing in her eyes, just as the door swung open and two palace guards burst in.

They looked between Wren and Rose, their eyes growing wide. “Er, Princess?”

“Guards! Arrest this imposter at once!” Rathborne shoved Wren toward them. “This witch has stolen the princess’s likeness and used it to commit a heinous murder. It’s only by the grace of the Protector that Rose and I have survived at all.”

Rose tried to battle her way toward Wren, but Rathborne swept her into his arms and crushed her head against his chest.

The guards converged on Wren, binding her hands roughly behind her back. When she protested, they stuffed her mouth with rags, holding her between them as she thrashed and struggled.

“Oi, Gilly, she’s a lively witch, this one.”

“I always heard they were slippery. Like eels.”

“Wait! Listen to me!” cried Rose.

“Hush now, Rose, darling. It’s over. You’re safe.” Rathborne dragged his hand through her bloody hair, petting her like a dog. “Thiswitchwill be brought swiftly to the dungeons where she will await judgment.Of coursewe could kill her right this instant if I decreed it.” He looked meaningfully at the guards, and they reached for their swords. Rose cried out, struggling violently in his arms.

“However,” Rathborne went on, drowning her out, “I think it would be best if we kept her alive until after your wedding.” He paused to let the meaning of his words sink in. “If all goes smoothly tomorrow, as I’msureit will, then perhaps we may be feeling charitable in regard to the fate of this... miscreant. There might even be room for clemency.”

He released Rose but kept a hand heavy on her shoulder. “After the wedding, perhaps you can take her with you to Gevra as your maidservant. King Alarik is, after all, more...acceptingof her kind.”

Wren seethed in silence. The bargain was plain: her life in exchange for a Gevran alliance and all the carnage that would mean for Ortha. Protest further and Rathborne would have them cut Wren’s throat right there in the tower. And no one in Eana would ever know the truth.

Rose’s gaze met Wren’s, and in that fleeting glance—fraught with frustration and regret—an unspoken decision passed between them.

Rose blew out a breath. “She is not to be harmed in the dungeon. Bring her food and fresh water and a blanket to keep warm.”

“But nothing from outside,” warned Rathborne. “And nothing that has grown pure from the earth. I suspect this witch is a sordid enchanter.”

The guards shifted uncomfortably. “What if she enchantsus?”

Wren rolled her eyes.

“Search her before you cage her,” said Rathborne impatiently. “And muzzle her if she tries to bite.”

“Don’t you dare hurt her.” Wren could tell her sister was battling tokeep her voice calm, but tears slipped freely down Rose’s cheeks, and her bloodstained hands were trembling. “I will deal with this matterprivatelyafter my wedding to Prince Ansel. Is that understood?”

The guards exchanged a dubious glance. “Very well, Princess.”

Rathborne shooed the soldiers away. “Go and lock this abomination in the dungeons.” He glanced at the dead seer, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “And then dispose of this body. Feed it to the Gevran beasts if you like, but I want it gone by first light. The smell of blood makes me sick.”

Wren was hauled into the dark stairwell. She left her sister standing in a pool of blood with a look of such violence in her eyes, she hardly recognized her.

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