Page 127 of Twin Crowns

“Seize her, you doddering idiots!” cried Rathborne. “You answer to the Kingsbreath!”

“Iam your princess and first you will let me speak!” Rose turned her face to the crowd, her voice arcing as she addressed all the courtiers and nobles of Eana. “Although my coronation has yet to fall, I hope you will permit me this first act as Queen of Eana, in light of the truth that has been exposed today. Willem Rathborne has failed in his role as Kingsbreath in the worst way. Not only has he betrayed me by killing my parents and hiding the truth from me for all these years, but he has betrayed this country, too. Therefore we must, as a people, relieve him of his duties at once.”

The congregation stiffened in their seats, cautious eyes darting back and forth between the twins, and Wren got the sense that the tide was finally turning against Rathborne.

Rose looked down on him from the altar with withering disdain. “Willem Rathborne, I command your arrest for the murder of KingKeir and Queen Lillith of Eana.” She squeezed Wren’s hand, but no one else in the Vault could tell she was trembling. Her face was placid, and her voice was strong—it was, Wren realized with sudden surprise, the voice of a queen. “I command your arrest for the murder of thousands of witches in a senseless war of your own making.”

Rose raised her finger, and though she wielded no weapon but her anger, a deadly silence fell inside the Vault. “I command your arrest for plotting, even now, the destruction of the Ortha witches as well as the bartering of yourownsovereign to a bloodthirsty nation against her will.” Rose’s eyes flashed, green and furious. “Your time in power is over.”

With a deep, shuddering breath, she summoned one final truth from within her. “These last few weeks have taught me more about myself than you ever have. I know now that I am a healer witch, and I vow to heal this country from the wounds and divisionyouhave inflicted upon it.”

Silence, then. Row after row of shocked faces peered up at Rose as if they were only truly seeing her for the first time. Even Wren was at a loss for words. Her sister had found her courage, and though there had been no coronation here today and she wore no crown on her head, she had become a queen before their eyes.

Slowly and without fanfare, Rathborne lowered his sword. “Are you quite done, Rose, darling?”

Rose glared at him. “Drop. It.”

The sword fell with a clatter.

Wren kept her sword raised, her smile all malice. “I can’t wait to watch you hang from this Vault. Our justice will be your swift and bitter execution.”

Rathborne surprised her by laughing. It was a wild, manic sound that hiccuped out of him. He flicked his wrist and a dagger slid into his palm.

“After you, witch.”

He flung it straight at Wren.

Wren froze as the blade hurtled toward her. Time seemed to slow, Rose’s terrified scream ringing in her ears. Then she felt the weight of something hard and fast barreling into her as Tor grabbed her by the waist and knocked her sideways. They crashed to the floor, the blade sailing cleanly over their heads.

There was a beat of silence.

Then a bloodcurdling shriek split the air in two as the dagger landed in Prince Ansel’s heart.

The Gevran prince fell to his knees, hands grasping at nothing as crimson blood bloomed along his ivory doublet.

He fell sideways with a resoundingthud.

And then, all at once, he was dead.

46

Rose

Rose stared in horror at Prince Ansel’s body. Her hands were trembling violently, her wedding dress splattered with his blood. Chaos erupted around her, but she felt removed from it all. There was only Ansel lying at her feet, and her magic tingling to life inside her. She dropped to her knees and laid a hand against his cheek. “I’m here, Ansel. I’m going to help you.”

Ansel stared past her with lifeless eyes.

“It’s going to be all right.” Rose’s panic joined the buzz of her magic. She pressed her palms against his chest, her fingers connecting around the knife as she felt for a pulse. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, as Ansel’s blood seeped out through her fingers.

“Come back to us,” Rose murmured, over and over, like a chant. Her fingers thrummed with the heat of her magic. She was pouring every bit of her energy into the prince’s body, trying to rouse his sleeping heart, but she couldn’t tell if it was working. “Please, Ansel. Please come back.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus, but the shouting was getting louder. There came a sudden thunder of stomping boots asthe Gevran soldiers stormed the altar. In the quiet of her mind, Rose reached for the thread of Ansel’s life. She found it in the darkness—a thin gold line quickly fraying away. If she could just remove the knife from his chest and stem the blood flow—

A hand closed around her arm. “Get off my brother,” came a snarling voice from above. King Alarik stood over her with bright, violent eyes.

Rose tried to shake him off. “Let me go. I can help him! I can heal him!”

Alarik dragged her away from the dead prince, his soldiers swarming at his back.

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