Page 41 of Twin Crowns

“I can beverypersuasive.”

“It will take more than a butterscotch cookie, Your Highness.”

Wren dropped to her knees and scratched beneath Elske’s chin. “How much more?” she pretended to ask the wolf. “Name your price, sweetling. I’m wildly wealthy.”

Tor towered over her, the silver flecks in his eyes alight with curiosity. “There’s something different about you tonight, Your Highness....”

The back of Wren’s neck began to prickle. “Oh?”

As if some unspoken command had passed between Tor and Elske, the wolf started sniffing at her skirts.

Wren stood up abruptly. The air changed as Tor took a careful step toward her. Too late, she got the sense that she had wandered unwittingly into a storm.

He raised his hand slowly, and she watched half frozen as he reached for something behind her ear. “Your hair...,” he said, more to himself than to her. “I think it’s changing color.”

Wren’s heartbeat faltered.

Seize control, hissed a voice in her head.

She slapped his wrist away. “I would advise you to keep your hands to yourself, soldier.”

Tor blinked. “Forgive me. I only meant—”

“To touch the crown princess of Eana,” said Wren with all theiciness she could summon. It was well past midnight and her morning enchantment must be wearing off. Those rose petals were weaker than she thought!

Tor raked his hands through his hair, wearing a look of such violent remorse that Wren almost felt sorry for him. He gathered himself in an instant, stiffening as he became a soldier once more—someone to fear, someone to avoid.

Wren was already backing into the shadows, hiding her changing appearance. “Consider this your first and only warning, soldier. To save yourself from any further embarrassment, I would suggest never mentioning this little run-in.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” The Gevran was a statue in the dark. Wren sensed the rising swell of his suspicion with every silent footstep she took away from him.

Banba’s scowling face haunted her as she made her way back to the east tower. Wren had gone looking for trouble tonight, and she had found it in the stormy gaze of a Gevran soldier. She was as thoughtless as the witch Lia, who had drowned herself in the Ortha Sea. If Wren didn’t pull herself together soon, the next time she slipped up could be her last. And if she doomed herself with her own carelessness, then she would doom all the witches of Eana, too. She cradled that fear as she fell asleep, dreams of Rathborne’s snarling face giving way to visions of him twitching and foaming as he died painfully at her feet.

16

Rose

Rose stared down into the abyss. The ocean churned restlessly below her, spitting strips of seaweed at the cliffs. It was a beast—foaming and frothing as it waited to devour her. The very sight of it made her dizzy and dry-mouthed and terrified and... “I can’t.”

She stumbled backward, knocking into Shen.

He grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. “Careful.”

Rose glanced at the plummeting cliffs and felt her head spin all over again. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Just my shoes.” Shen dropped his boots at her feet. “You can’t climb the Whisperwind Cliffs barefoot.”

“I don’t want to climb them at all! Isn’t there another way down?”

“Afraid not, Princess. The witches of Ortha have made their haven almost impossible to reach. Do you see those waves breaking out there? This cove is protected by a rock reef. No boat—not even your finest royal warship—can get past it without being torn to shreds. So we’ll be going cliffside.”

“No, thank you.” Rose backed away from the edge, moving quickly through the grass until something bumped into her leg. She screamed.

The grass bleated.

Shen chuckled as he knelt down. “Hello, little one.” He glanced up at Rose. “I didn’t realize you were terrified of baby goats.”

Rose cleared her throat. “It took me by surprise, that’s all. I amnotafraid of goats.”

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