Page 72 of Twin Crowns

24

Rose

The witches were nothing like Rose had imagined. There was so much laughter in Ortha. And dancing and singing, and storytelling. Not that Rose took part in any of it. She was as wary of the witches as they were of her. Every day, she felt their hardened stares and heard their judging whispers, but she held her head high, making sure to keep her distance from Rowena and her hateful friends.

Each night, Rose watched the moon grow fuller in the sky and knew she was running out of time. Her coronation was fast approaching. She would not let Wren steal her throne from her and hand it to the witches. What would that leave for Rose in the end? She refused to live out the rest of her days in Ortha, reeking of seaweed and brine, pretending to be something she was not.Shewas the princess of Eana, and she had spent her entire life preparing to be Queen. That destiny belonged to her and her alone.

The thought of confronting Willem made Rose feel ill, but with her eighteenth birthday looming, the Kingsbreath’s sway over her was finally waning, and she was no longer a little girl afraid of the world beyond the golden gates. She resolved to return to Anadawn at theearliest opportunity and face the man who had lied to her, no matter how much it terrified her. It was time he gave up his grip on the throne.

And so, as the days passed, she grew more observant. She learned as much as she could about the movements of the Ortha witches, and quietly, carefully planned her escape.

The day after her arrival, Banba had told Rose to start making herself useful, and Rose had quickly learned how few useful skills she possessed. She couldn’t cook or fish, nor could she clean or gut the fish without retching. She had no idea how to forage for plants or weave rope, and once, when she tried to mend an old tunic with Thea, she somehow managed to sew her own hair underneath the hem.

Tilda had been the one to suggest Rose help with her chores. So each morning Rose donned Wren’s old clothes and worn leather boots and braided her hair before heading down to the beach to help the young witch gather driftwood.

“My best friend, Celeste, would be shocked if she saw me now,” she told Tilda when they were looking for crabs in the surf one morning, almost two weeks after Rose had arrived in Ortha. “She’s always harping on about the virtues of trousers, but I’m afraid a queen and her noblewomen simply cannot be so informal.”

Tilda laughed as she skipped through the waves. “Wren has never worn a dress in her life. Not even on Candlemas! I think she will be a different kind of queen.”

“I’m sure she will,” said Rose mildly.

Tilda peered at her over her shoulder. “Are you sad to be missing your wedding? I heard Shen telling Banba at the bonfire about your special prince.”

Rose stiffened. “That’s none of his business.”

“I suppose it’s Wren’s business for now.” Tilda wrinkled her nose. “If it helps, Wren always says she’d rather drown in the sea than ever get married, so I don’t think she will steal your sweetheart from you. Maybe you can have him back after all this coronation business is over.” She grinned toothily. “Oryou could find a new sweetheart here in Ortha instead!”

“Tilda!” said Rose, aghast.

The young girl pealed into laughter.

“That’s quite enough chatter,” said Rose in a fluster. In recent days, she hadn’t been thinking very much about Prince Ansel. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that her sister would steal her throneandher fiancé. And anyway, the prince would surely be understanding when Rose returned to Anadawn and explained the whole sorry tale to him. Especially since he had undoubtedly already figured out that Wren was not who she was pretending to be.

After Tilda ran off to help with lunch, Rose glanced over her shoulder to make sure nobody was following her, then crept toward the Whisperwind Cliffs. She had expected the witches to pay close attention to her, but most of the time, they seemed completely unconcerned with where she was or what she was doing. It was clear they thought her incapable of doing anything that required a measure of strength and fortitude, that a lifetime of being served by others at Anadawn had made her fearful and helpless. Well, all the better for her. She had been climbing the cliffs in secret for days now—a little bit at a time—trying to build confidence in her footing. Today, with the wind so calm, she made it higher than she ever had before. She was contemplating goingall the way up and not turning back, when she bumped straight into Shen.

They faced each other on a narrow ridge. “What are you doing all the way up here?” she asked.

Shen arched a brow. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

Rose’s cheeks burst into flame. “I... I wanted a moment to myself.”

“At such dizzying heights?” Shen’s dark gaze roamed her face. He gestured to her neck. “What happened to your locket?”

Rose blinked. “What?”

“The one from your Gevran. You know, the sacred glittering repository of his delicate golden hair?”

“Oh.” Rose pressed a hand to her neck and only then realized she wasn’t wearing Ansel’s locket. That she hadn’t been wearing it for days. And worse than that, she had no idea where it was.

“I’ve hidden it,” she lied. “Under my pillow. I didn’t want to risk it being stolen by a witch.”

“How sensible of you.” Shen’s eyes danced, and Rose knew he suspected the terrible truth—that she hadn’t been thinking all that much about her beloved.

“Not that it isanyof your business,” she added as an afterthought.

“Do you miss him?”

“Who?”

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