Page 71 of Twin Crowns

Wren offered the ghost of a smile. “I suppose it takes one to know one.”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” said Celeste through her teeth. “I’m no witch.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “You think your visions of Rose in Ortha are some kind of happy accident? Come on, Celeste. You’re smarter than that. Haven’t you been wondering why you’re so sensitive to Rathborne’s starcrests?” Wren could tell by the horror on Celeste’s face that she had never even considered that a possibility. If Wren’s suspicions were true, then Celeste’s craft must be half buried in her bones, stifled by years of fear and denial.

Now was clearly not a good time to prod her on the matter.

Celeste gripped the edge of the bath. “Why are youdoingthis?”

“I have to save the witches from the Kingsbreath.”

“And you really think wrecking Rose’s marriage and stealing her crown are the only way to do that?”

“Yes,” said Wren evenly. “And it’s not as if you even want themarriage to happen either. In case you hadn’t noticed, Rose is being tricked. The second she says ‘I do’ to Ansel, she’ll be shipped off to Gevra, and this kingdom will remain under the control of Willem Rathborne.”

Celeste didn’t deny her concerns. “If you really cared about Rose, you wouldn’t have delivered her to the witches.”

“It’s the Gevrans you need to worry about.” Wren stood up, sending rivulets of water everywhere. “But I can stop them, Celeste. I can stop all of this.”

“By trying to kill the Kingsbreath, you mean?” Celeste shook her head in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? That’s treason!”

Wren flashed her teeth. “Only a little.”

Celeste tightened her robe and stepped out of the bath. “I have a good mind to turn you in right now.”

Wren grabbed her by the wrist. “If you send me to the dungeons, you send Rose to her death in Ortha.”

“Ansel would never let his soldiers kill his bride.” Celeste shook Wren off and stalked toward the door. “He’ll scour every inch of the country for her first.Afterhe sees you punished for your deception,” she said over her shoulder. “You know, the Gevrans use common thieves as chew toys for their beasts. I can’timaginewhat kind of torture betraying a prince of the realm will earn you.”

“Ansel won’t get to Rose before Banba does!” Wren called after her. “My grandmother has spies in every corner of this palace. How do you think I got in here so easily? If you turn me in, she’ll kill Rose.”

Celeste stopped walking. “You’re lying.”

“Risk it, then.” Wren kept her voice steady. It was a bluff, but it was the only thing she could think to do: to barter Rose’s safety for herown and pray that Celeste’s loyalty to her friend was stronger than her hostility toward Wren. She stepped out of the bath. “Orwe could go about this a different way. Preferably one in which neither I nor Rose has to die.”

Celeste turned around. “If you think I’m going to let you run around Anadawn with your schemes and your poison, you are sorely mistaken.”

“I’m only after the Kingsbreath. Rose deserves to be free of him. We all do.”

Celeste’s nostrils flared. “If you really cared about Rose, you wouldn’t be stealing her life. You just want to usurp the throne.”

Wren shrugged. There was no point in denying it. “Can’t both things be true?”

The silence grew thick and hazy, both girls glaring at each other through the steam.

“Three days,” said Celeste, at last. “You have three days to return Rose safely to Anadawn. If you don’t bring her back to me, I’ll turn you in.”

Wren pretended to consider the deal. Even if she wanted to bring Rose back to the palace, which of course she had no intention of doing, the princess had traveled far beyond her reach. She would need a horse as quick as Storm to fetch her. And there was only one of those in all of Eana.

But Wren wasn’t bargaining for her freedom. She was bargaining for time. And for now, three days was enough to come up with a way to deal with Rose’s best friend.

“Very well, Celeste.” Wren brushed the tendrils from her face andmet Celeste’s gaze with bold conviction. “In three days’ time you will be with Rose again.”

Celeste pulled her arms around herself, studying Wren for a long moment. “It’s the strangest thing,” she said at last. “You look so much like Rose that my instinct is to trust you.”

Wren smirked as she bent down to retrieve her slippers.

Perhaps Celeste wasn’t a seer after all.

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