Page 51 of Twin Crowns

She rolled to her feet and made a show of tucking the vialdeepinto her bodice.

Tor looked away. “We should head back to the palace.”

“Go ahead. I can make my own way back.”

“It’s late. Let me escort you.” The soldier was so tightly wound, he could barely look at Wren now. He walked on, gesturing for her to follow. “I insist.”

Wren hesitated. “What will my guards say when they see you walking me home all alone in the middle of the night?”

“I imagine they’ll be grateful that I am doing their job for them,” he said stiffly.

The Gevran made a good point. Any soldier that told on her would be putting their own head on the chopping block, too. She hurried afterTor. For the rest of the short journey back to the palace, he didn’t utter another word. When they parted ways in the courtyard, he offered a stilted goodbye, his pale cheeks still dappled with red.

Wren made her way back to the east tower, heady from the success of her evening. She had secured the poison, kept it secret,andcompromised Ansel’s guard dog in the process. Though she hadn’t expected that part to be soenjoyable. She had been kissed before—and more than once—but even without Tor’s lips touching hers, she had never felt such desire—it was like a flame threatening to consume her. She had almost unraveled right there on the grass beneath him.

But it was only a moment of weakness. A brief almost-kiss that Wren would hardly remember in the morning. She told herself that as she fell asleep, but in her dreams, Tor found her, and when he leaned down to kiss her, this time he didn’t stop.

18

Rose

Rose was going to murder Shen. That was if this stern-faced old witch claiming to be her grandmother didn’t kill her first. How could he have lied about so much, and soeffortlessly? Her head spun as she was tugged roughly along the beach. The old woman was small and stout, but she moved with the gait of a soldier.

Banba.

The rope of wind around Rose’s waist tethered her to the witch, who was hauling her back to the fishing village. A crowd was gathering down by the shore, the children clambering up onto the craggy rocks to get a better look at her. Rose couldn’t miss how several of the witches weren’t at all happy to see her. Some were blatantly glaring, others whispering among themselves.

“I thought my grandmother was dead,” she said.

Banba glanced at her over her shoulder. “You sound disappointed.”

Rose hesitated. There was something besides the wind binding her to Banba. She sensed it—this strange pull in her chest—even as she tried to ignore it. Was this what it felt like to be with family? This simmering recognition deep within her bones?

“I’m surprised. I thought I was...” Rose’s voice trailed off.

“Alone?” Banba’s face softened, but her voice remained gruff. “You’ve always had us, girl.” Then she narrowed her eyes, taking Rose in. “At least it looks as if they feed you back at that old stone palace.”

Some of the witches were dragging mottled driftwood into a circle, piling it higher and higher. Others carried freshly caught cod in from the sea, the fish still dangling from their lines. Rose spied wicker baskets full of crusty bread and red wine sloshing from pitchers as they were carted across the beach.

Her stomach growled, and the sound was louder than the crashing waves. She winced.

Banba’s laugh was like the caw of a crow. “Don’t worry, we’ll feed you here, too.”

A prodding thought distracted Rose from the promise of food. One she had often desperately, secretly hoped. “Is my mother here?” Banba stopped short on the beach, and Rose yelped as the wind went taut around her. “I just thought that if I have a sister who survived and a grandmother I never knew about, then maybe—”

“Don’t be naive, child.” The wind shoved Rose closer to Banba. The old witch bit off a curse as she grabbed Rose’s wrist. “Your mother is dead. And so is your father.” She gave Rose a measured look. “And now that you’re here, it’s time you knew the truth about what happened. Your parents were killed in cold blood by Willem Rathborne, the man who now orbits the throne, pretending it’s his.”

Rose tried to shake her grandmother off, but her grip tightened.

“Willem isn’t capable of such a thing,” she said before she could even consider it. “It was a witch who killed my parents.” Even afterwhat Rose had seen in the Weeping Forest, this was the story she held closest to her. The one that informed so much of who she was. If it wasn’t true... then nothing in her life was, and she simply couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t. “The witches were angry at my mother for marrying a Valhart. They were jealous of her. They—”

“Don’t youdaresay such a thing in Ortha!” Banba squeezed Rose’s wrist until it felt as if talons were digging into her skin.

“You’re hurting me!” cried Rose.

Banba released the wind and Rose stumbled backward, cradling her wrist to her chest. She looked away sharply, tears burning in her eyes. She didn’t know a great deal about family, but she felt very certain this was not how meeting your long-lost grandmother was meant to go.

“The witches loved your mother.Iloved your mother,” said the old woman fiercely. “But it was not enough to save her from Willem Rathborne. A man who has always sought to destroy us.”

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