Page 46 of Twin Crowns

Wren smiled. “I know.”

The woman pocketed the coins. “How does a nice young girl know something like that?”

Wren tucked the devil’s root into the pocket of her cloak. “I’ve done my research.”

With her free hand, she removed a fistful of rose petals from the pouch at her waist.

The woman smiled, revealing two rows of yellow teeth. “Be careful, Princess. The poison might be undetectable, but the hand that delivers it must be stealthy.”

“It will be.” Wren shot out her free hand and grabbed the woman by the throat.“From earth to dust, I make your choice, forget my face, unhear my voice.”

The petals disappeared as she scattered them over Alvina, leaving a faint shimmering behind.

The woman blinked as she stumbled backward. “We’re closing,” she said uncertainly. “Come back tomorrow.”

Wren drew back into the shadows and in the next breath was gone. A gust of cool air feathered her cheeks as she retraced her way through the cobbled streets of Eshlinn, grinning beneath her hood.

She thought of her grandmother, grinning half a world away. Two summers ago, when the days were long and bright and the sea had lost its bite, Banba had sat with Wren along the rocky cliffs and played with her a game of poison. Their bare legs dangling side by side, she had presented Wren with three vials: one filled with bright red liquid, another clear, and the final a deep, rippling purple.

“Choose one for me to drink. And be clever, little bird. I have many years yet to live and just as many things to do.”

Wren had sat under the blistering sun until her cheeks had burned, debating between the vials. She’d set aside the red one first, sure it was poison. “Good girl,” Banba had said as she’d tipped it into the churning sea.“These are the guts of the reef stonefish. They would send me to bed for three days and three nights.”

Wren had debated between the final two for a long time, sniffing and swirling, before finally chucking the purple vial over the cliff and listening to it shatter on the rocks. With a stirring confidence, she’d handed the clear one to Banba, who’d promptly drunk it down. It had only been when her grandmother began to retch that Wren knew she had made a mistake. Banba had curled the empty vial into her hand. “That was belladonna,” she’d groaned.“Enough to harm but not to kill. Now you will take care of me until it passes.”

Wren had lumbered to her feet, shouldering her grandmother’s weight as they’d picked their way back down the cliffs, apologizing so much she’d lost her breath.“Why did you drink it, Banba? You didn’t have to drink it!”

Banba had thrown her arm around Wren, wincing through her discomfort.“I drank it to teach you a lesson.”At Wren’s look of alarm, she had managed the ghost of a smile.“If you choose to play with poison, do your research. And next time you throw my wine into the sea, ask me first.”She’d turned, then, to be sick on the sand, and Wren had averted her eyes, cursing her mistake.

And then she had promised herself, for as long as she lived, she would never let her grandmother down again.

With the vial of poison tucked safely inside her corset, Wrenskipped through the town of Eshlinn. Why end such a successful evening so soon? She had wriggled out of Chapman’s precious schedule and the watchful eyes of the palace for a night of her own choosing, and she intended to make the most of it. Candlelight flickered from the windows of the Howling Wolf, beckoning her inside. She scanned the room. Bleary-eyed revelers huddled around pints of ale. In the corner, a slender man with hooded eyes licked his lips in invitation.

Wren flipped him a choice finger before settling herself at the bar. She slapped a gold coin on the counter. “Something with bubbles, please. You can keep the change.”

The barmaid snatched up the coin. “I’ve got some Gevran frostfizz, but fair warning, love, it ain’t for the faint of heart.”

Wren peeled her lips back. “Well, neither am I.”

Wren hadn’t drunk alcohol since theincidentwith Shen three moons ago. A merchant trader’s ship had washed up on the reef near Ortha, surrendering twelve barrels of spiced rum to the choppy seas. The waves—and a little bit of her friend Rowena’s tempest magic—had rolled the barrels right to them, and the three of them had spent the evening guzzling it down by the bonfire, singing old sea shanties until their voices went hoarse and Banba came out to wring their necks.

The following day, Wren’s head had ached so badly, she couldn’t venture outside until the sun set. And still, the evening had found her retching up her guts into the sea, Rowena and Shen on their knees halfway across the beach, doing the same thing.

Ah, friendship.

Wren toasted to them in her mind as she took the first sip of frostfizz.

It was like a shot of ice fizzing through her bloodstream. She knocked it back, grinning at the success of her outing. Now all she had to do was sneak the poison into Willem Rathborne’s dinner the day after tomorrow. With the Kingsbreath dead and the palace plunged into mourning, the plans for Rose’s wedding would quickly unravel and so, too, would the impending Gevran alliance. Wren would be crowned, and the witches of Eana would fall under her royal protection.

She ordered another drink, smiling at the cleverness of her plan. The tavern gradually emptied out around her, the candles in the window burning down to nothing. Wren emptied her third glass, then pushed away from the bar. Her head was swimming, but she welcomed the haze. It made her feel as if she was in a delicious daydream. She floated out of the tavern, humming an old sea shanty to herself.

The streets were deserted now, the last of Eshlinn’s revelers gone home to their beds, and Wren’s sense of direction was fuzzy. She turned down another lane, where the walls were dark and narrow and the stench of stale alcohol hung heavy in the air. Quickened footsteps sounded behind her. She stole a glance over her shoulder to find the creepy man from the tavern following her.

“Slow down, girlie!”

Wren spun around, wobbling a little. “Go home, drunkard!”

The man lunged from the shadows, catching her by the throat. “Give me the coin, and I’ll let you live.”

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