Page 97 of Twin Crowns

She crushed the petals over the roses.“From earth to dust, what was once alive, make it grow again and thrive.”

The vase exploded. Wren gasped as the flowers doubled in size and then doubled again, winding up along the walls like greedy vines. Two more vines lurched for the window, growing and twisting until they choked the moonlight from the room. She stumbled backward, tripping over her dress and falling on the floor. “No, no, no. Stop growing.Please.” She frantically did another enchantment.

The roses stopped crawling, but not before the window groaned and then shattered in a hail of glass. She ducked as the shards rained down on her. The pitter-patter of falling glass soon faded into silence, and Wren’s breath loosened in her chest. When she finally looked up, Tor was standing in the doorway.

She covered her face. “Please tell me you didn’t just see that.”

The door closed behind him with a groan. He glanced at the floor, where twisting stalks and bloated roses mingled among the splintered glass. “I knew there was something off about you,” he said under his breath. “I should have listened to my gut.”

Wren rolled to her feet, trying to ignore the look of betrayal on his face. She grasped for the connection that had been blossoming between them. “You sniffed me out, like a good little Gevran wolf,” she saidcoyly. “Perhaps I should give you a treat.”

The floorboards creaked as he came toward her. “I’m not playing this game with you.”

“But you want to,” said Wren boldly. “Isn’t that why you came looking for me?”

Tor’s face shuttered. He was every bit the soldier now, stiff and unyielding. He gestured to the mess she had made. “Explain this.”

Wren’s gaze flitted to the shattered window as panic inched up her throat. She wished she could get out of this room and rip off this stupid sparkly dress. It felt even tighter now, as if all the air in her body were being squeezed out, breath by breath.

“Speak,” said Tor in a low growl.

She bit off a curse. “I’m thinking.”

“Of a good lie?”

She sagged against a desk. There was nothing to say. She couldn’t hide from this, and they both knew it. “I don’t think there’s a lie good enough to explain that explosion. And even if there were, you’re not stupid enough to believe it.”

“I’m glad we agree on something.” Tor stopped a couple of feet from her. “And while you’re explaining things to me, why don’t you tell me why I just walked past someone who looks exactly like you outside in the courtyard?”

Rotting carp. He’d seen Rose, too.

“Wait. How did you know she wasn’t me?”

He pinned her with his gaze. “Because I pay attention to you.”

Wren looked away sharply. She wasn’t frightened by the soldier’snearness, but the sight of him standing before her, waiting for her to untangle herself from this unholy mess she had made instead of running back inside to report the explosion—not to mention the unexplained twin sister—unsettled her in a different way. It was more than she deserved.

She briefly considered an enchantment. But what if she harmed him? Or worse—killed him? Her craft wasn’t exactly stable right now.

“I suppose I owe you the truth.” Wren looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “But can I trust you with it?”

His face was unreadable as he watched her. “That depends.”

“You can’t tell anyone. Not Ansel. Nor your awful king or even your darling wolf. If you do, I’ll be strung up in the Protector’s Vault for the crows to come and peck my eyes out. And I don’t think you want that....”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “No.”

Wren knew there would be no turning back once she told him the truth, but they were halfway there already. She might be able to conjure an explanation for the absurd explosion around them, but she couldn’t explain her sister. He had already witnessed too much and a small, reckless part of her wanted him to know her—not as Rose but as herself.

She blew out a breath. “Here is your something true, Tor. My name is Wren. Rose is my twin sister, andsheis the princess of Eana. Not me.” She stared at the silver buttons on his coat, seized by a mixture of relief and trepidation. There. It was done, and there was no taking it back.

“Wren.” Tor said the name as if he were tasting it. “Like the bird.”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “The one that flew away.”

“Small creatures, wrens,” he said, watching her too closely. “Though they have remarkably loud voices. And good survival instincts.”

Wren huffed a laugh. “Not good enough, it seems.”

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