Page 59 of Twin Crowns

“Then why aren’t you moving to Eana?” asked Celeste.

Ansel looked to Rathborne. “I... er... Well, it was decided.”

Celeste narrowed her eyes. “By whom?”

“By the Kingsbreath,” said Wren, who was staring hard at Rathborne. “Clearly, he has other plans for me.”

Rathborne plucked a speck of dust from his sleeve. “I know what your parents wished for you, Rose,” he said calmly. “A safe life. An honorable husband. And one day, a family of your own. There’s no reason why you can’t have those in Gevra.”

“I shall make sure of it,” said Ansel as he reached for Wren’s hand. She pretended not to notice the gesture.

“What about Rose’s life here?” Celeste challenged him. “Her friends? Her duty? Her coronation?”

The Kingsbreath shot Celeste a warning look. “There will be no need for a coronation. So much fuss and ceremony and for what? A political headache,” he said, as if Rose’s destiny were a tedious chore he was saving her from. “No. Rose will make her new life in Gevra, and I will continue to take care of the throne here. Of course, King Alarik will oversee everything from Grinstad.”

And there it was—the fullness of Rathborne’s scheme laid out before them. In return for having a foot in each continent, Alarik Felsing was going to help the Kingsbreath keep control over Eana while stamping out the last of the Eana witches for good. And he was going to do it in the most brutal way imaginable. By the evening of her eighteenth birthday, Wren would possess no crown at all, while Alarik Felsing would hold two.

Celeste leaned toward Wren. “Why aren’t you saying anything about this?” she whispered. “Surely this isn’t what you want?”

Wren looked at her hands. She was minutes away from killing Rathborne. If she ruffled too many feathers now, she might not get anotherchance. “It’s all come as such a surprise,” she said meekly. “I suppose I’ll have to think it over.”

Celeste flopped back in her chair. “What is there to think about? Becoming Queen has always been the most important thing in the world to you,” she said in mounting disbelief. “It’s your birthright, Rose. You’ve talked about it ever since we were children.” When Wren didn’t answer, Celeste turned to Ansel. “And what aboutyou? Do you really see no issue with stealing Rose away from her country? Her people?”

Ansel’s smile faltered. “Surely we can share her?”

“She’s not a bloody bread roll!” Celeste took an angry slug of wine. The alcohol was making her too brave. “This all sounds more like a banishment than a betrothal to me. Sending Rose away to a sunless land. Far from her throne and her home.”

“That’senough.” The Kingsbreath seethed. “This is none of your business, Lady Pegasi.”

“Of course it is! Rose is my best friend.”

“The next word on this will be your last.” Rathborne slammed his fist on the table, and the temperature in the room plummeted. “Curb your tongue or you’ll be sleeping in the dungeons tonight.”

“Just leave it alone,” hissed Wren. Rose’s best friend was dangerously close to ruining everything. Wren stepped on her foot under the table, then plastered a smile on her face. “Celeste is just upset because she knows how much she’ll miss me. I’m sure we’ll all feel better about this once we eat.” She snapped her fingers impatiently. “Bring out the next course, please. I’mravenous.”

Celeste looked at her strangely, before drinking deeply from her goblet.

Rathborne’s mood perked up when the soup arrived. “Ah, winter parsnip,” he said as his guard performed another taste test. “My favorite.”

“And a Gevran recipe,” said Ansel delightedly.

“There are a great many things to admire about Gevra,” said Rathborne, taking a big soupy slurp. “For starters, the Gevran army is second to none.”

Wren dropped her napkin. “Oops.”

When she bent down to pick it up, she slid the vial of poison from her bodice and settled it on her lap, beneath her napkin. She returned to her soup, using her free hand to gently work the stopper free.

“My brother has devoted particular attention to our army since his coronation.” Ansel nodded in Tor’s direction. “They are not just soldiers but hunters. We are manandbeast, ferocious in all things. There is nothing hidden that cannot be found by us.”

“Let’s hope Rose never tries to escape, then,” muttered Celeste as she stood up. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I think I’ll take a turn to the privy chamber.”

Wren used the fleeting distraction to scoot her chair closer to Rathborne. His body was turned toward Ansel now, both men mired in discussion of the Gevran army. “It’s the beasts I admire most. How does King Alarik get them so disciplined?”

She planted her elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her palm. She made moon eyes at Ansel as he launched into a story about Alarik and his beasts, her other hand inching toward Rathborne’s soup.

Wren could feel Tor’s gaze on the side of her face, so she untucked her hair and used it as a curtain. Her fingers grazed the rim ofRathborne’s soup dish and then—

“BOOM!” Ansel slammed his hands down on the table. “THE FOX FLEW RIGHT OUT OF THE CANNON.” The plates shook, and a mouthful of hot soup sloshed over the rim, onto Wren’s wrist. She hinged backward, trapping a curse between her teeth as she hastily returned the vial to her lap.

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