Page 38 of Twin Crowns

Celeste’s frown deepened. “What makes you think the Kingsbreath will come? You know he barely leaves his bedchamber these days.Father says he’s gone as skittish as a mouse.”

This only made Wren wonder again about what had set the Kingsbreath so on edge recently, and whether there was a deeper reason for his ill-advised alliance with Gevra. She resolved to find out what was bothering him. For one thing, she was interminably curious about it. And for another, if her poisoning plan failed, she might turn up something she could use against him.

“Of course he’ll come to dinner,” she told Celeste. “Dear Willem is just as invested in this marriage as I am.”

Not to mention, he wouldn’t dare risk offending the prince of Gevra—or his fearsome brother—by not attending. In fact, Wren was counting on it. She smiled as she plucked a lemon from the fruit bowl and tossed it in the air. It calmed her to have something to do with her hands.

“If you say so,” said Celeste uncertainly. She returned her attention to the cake. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Cam. How on earth did you get it to sparkle like that?”

“That’s the snow dust.” He made a show of dropping his voice. “Elliott knows a Gevran trader up at Wishbone Bay. Had to give him a twenty-pound tuna for a sprinkle of that.”

“I must tell Marino to keep an eye out for it,” said Celeste. “He’s keen to dip his toe into the spice trade this summer, even though I keep prodding him toward rum.”

“Maybe you should just commandeer your brother’s ship,” suggested Wren. “I’ve never taken part in a mutiny, but I think it would be a lot of fun.” She grabbed a lime and began to toss it back and forth, the yellow lemon giving way to green and then yellow once more. She thought of the wrecked trading ships that sometimes washed up in Ortha after abad storm and wondered if she would ever go treasure-hunting along the beach with Shen again.

“In the meantime, I can have another word with Elliott,” said Cam. “Let’s see what kind of exotic liquor he can barter from the pirates down at Braddack Bay.”

Celeste beamed. “Is there anything your wily husband can’t get his hands on?”

“Depends what you’re looking for,” said Cam with a conspiratorial wink.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She sighed. “A bit of excitement, maybe?”

The cook released a full belly laugh. Wren felt the warmth of it in her fingertips. “Celeste Pegasi, what could be more exciting than a Gevran prince staying under this very roof? It’s beenyearssince we’ve had a wedding at Anadawn.”

She rolled her eyes. “I meant exciting forme.”

“Why don’t you take your chances with the Gevran boats when they come in?” Cam waggled his eyebrows. “Let’s see what they bring to Anadawn.”

Wren tried not to picture Alarik Felsing gliding down the Silvertongue. She couldn’t think of anything worse than serving the witches up to him on a platter while chaining herself to his hapless younger brother for the rest of her life. She prayed she’d never have to see that day. She grabbed a plum from the fruit bowl and tossed it in the air as she wandered around the kitchen. “What about Archer Morwell? Isn’t he exciting enough for you?”

“Archer is yesterday’s news,” said Celeste dismissively. “You know how restless I get.”

Wren snorted. “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of other fine pairs of shoulders right here in Eshlinn.”

“Then why didyougo all the way to Gevra for your suitor?”

Why indeed.

Celeste turned from the mouthwatering cake. “Then again, if the Gevrans are all built like Prince Ansel’s guard, I think I’ll be in luck. Frankly, it should be a crime to be that handsome. Do you know what his name—?” She gasped. “Rose! Since when can youjuggle?”

Wren let the fruit drop with three distinctthunks.“I’m not.”

Cam chuckled. “And this from the same girl who has to hold her wine goblet with two hands.”

Wren picked up the fruit and hastily returned it to the bowl. “His name is Tor Iversen,” she said breezily. “That’s what you were asking just now, wasn’t it?”

“Tor.” Cam rolled thersound with his tongue. “I like it.”

Celeste was still staring at the bruised fruit.

Wren cursed her own foolishness. In a bid to settle her nerves, she swiped a tart from a nearby tray and shoved it into her mouth. It melted on her tongue, butter and sugar creating a symphony of delight.“Mmm,so good.”

“Princess,NO!” cried Cam. “That one’s full of cinnamon!”

Wren stopped chewing.

The cook was flapping about the kitchen like an addled bird.

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