Page 90 of Twin Crowns

It was the Great Protector.

“DIE, WITCH!” Spittle spewed from his mouth as he lunged at her. “YOU HATEFUL, FOUL CREATURE!” Rose recognized his sword in the split second before he swung it at her—the revered Sanguis Bellum that lived under lock and key at Anadawn—confirming her suspicions. She screamed as she lurched backward, toppling from the horse and landing in the dirt.

Rose scrabbled away from the man she had worshipped her entire life, his face distorted with rage and bloodlust as he stalked toward her.

“Please!” she cried to the spirits in the forest. “Someone, help me!”

But there was no one alive to hear her. Even Storm had disappeared, and she couldn’t see the Mother Tree beyond the Protector’s looming shadow. He stood over her now, hatred dripping from his words as heraised his sword. “Your end has come, Ortha Starcrest. May your soul and the souls of all the witches die with you.”

Rose flinched as his sword came down. It sluiced through the air and sailed past her left ear. There came the sickening sound of steel tearing through flesh and blood and bone, and then a new voice cried out beside Rose.

She whipped her head around. A woman wearing Rose’s face lay pinned to the ground beside her, Sanguis Bellum now embedded in her chest. Blood pooled around her body, seeping into the earth as quickly as it flowed out of her.

Her emerald gaze slid past Rose, to the man still standing over her. “Our souls will never die.” Her final words were a faint rasp, but Rose swore the ground trembled as she spoke. “Someday, the witches will rise again and the rivers of Eana will run red with your blood.”

The Protector threw his head back and laughed, and before Rose could think better of it, she flung herself at him, ready to tear the sound from his throat. Her hands met nothing but air, and when she landed, her knees sang with pain. She looked up, not into the eyes of an evil man but at the bough of a great and weeping tree. The Protector had disappeared. When she turned around, the body of Ortha Starcrest was gone, too, and Rose was alone again.

Ithadbeen a memory, she realized with sickening relief. The worst one yet. She collapsed at the base of the Mother Tree and began to sob. For Ortha Starcrest and for her mother; for all the witches who might have lived if things had been different, fairer.

Storm, who had been hovering nearby all along, returned to Rose’s side and gently nudged her shoulder, as if to say,It’s over.

Rose trembled as she got to her feet. She pressed her forehead against the trunk and offered a promise to the soul of Ortha Starcrest. “When I get home, I will change everything in Eana,” she whispered. “And when I am Queen, I will rule in the name of all witches, under the banner of your legacy.”

With shaking limbs, she climbed back onto Storm, her heart burning with hatred for the man she had been taught to worship. He was no hero. He was nothing but an evil, hateful wretch who had killed ceaselessly and ruthlessly for power he could never truly own.

As Rose set off across the rolling dunes of the Ganyeve Desert, she resolved to put all thoughts of the Protector behind her, but she couldn’t shake the memory of Ortha Starcrest’s face, nor the fear in those wide emerald eyes that looked so much like her own.

The desert was blessedly silent, and for that, Rose was grateful. She trusted Storm to lead the way, but after hours of riding beneath the blistering sun, there was still no sign of the golden mountain where Shen had taken her to rest.

“To the caves, Storm,” she urged, with as much authority as she could muster with a throat that was painfully parched and tight with panic. “We have to get out of the sun!”

If the horse heard her, she showed no sign of it. She galloped onward, into the golden abyss. Sweat dripped down Rose’s back and pooled under her arms. She was achingly hot, and the sun was still climbing in the sky. If they didn’t reach shelter soon, she would perish from the heat.

And then she saw it. A grove of trees, shimmering just beyond thenext dune. They stood out in stark relief against the sand, their dark green canopies beckoning. She swore she heard the sound of running water, too, spied droplets hanging from the pillowy leaves.

“Storm! That way!” she rasped, nudging the horse toward the trees. “Quickly!”

Storm tossed her head and made for the opposite direction.

“Hush, hush, rush!” hissed Rose, pointing ahead. “Don’t you see them?”

The horse dug her hooves into the sand and stopped walking.

Rose patted her side. “What on earth is wrong with you? GO!”

But the horse was still as a statue now, her brown eyes watching Rose.

“Fine,” she huffed. “You can stay here. I’m going to nap in the shade.”

The horse whinnied in alarm as she slid off her back. Then moved in front of Rose as if to block her way.

“Oh no, you don’t! I amhot, and I need a rest. And for that matter, so do you!” Rose pushed past the horse. “I swear you’re as stubborn as your master,” she muttered as she made for the oasis on foot. But with every step she took, it seemed to get farther away.

Strange.

Rose pushed on, desperation quickening her footsteps. The trees began to sway, which was stranger still. There was no wind in the desert, no reprieve from this oppressive heat.

“Oh no.” Her heart sank as realization set in. She had been fooled by a mirage. There was no glade, only her own eyes playing tricks on her. What a fool she was! Rose was so busy berating herself that she didn’t notice the sands trembling at her feet. She lost her footing and fell witha strangled yelp. When she tried to stand up again, she couldn’t find her balance. The dunes weren’t just shifting, they werewhirling. Around and around they went, growing faster and deeper. Without warning, they began to pull her down, down, down....

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