Page 98 of Twin Crowns

“You are not engaged to Prince Ansel, then.”

Wren shook her head. She could have sworn the tension in his shoulders eased, that he looked a little relieved, too. “Where do you come from, Wren?”

“A faraway place.” Banba’s face flashed through her mind and Wren winced. If her grandmother could see her now, spilling all her secrets to a Gevran, she would drag her back to Ortha by her hair. She glanced at the doorway, wondering what he would do if she decided to run from the rest of his questions.

As if sensing her thoughts, Tor leaned down and placed an arm on either side of her. “Why are you here now?”

“I wanted a change of scenery.”

“Lie,” he whispered.

“Fine,” she said, wringing her hands. “I wanted to meet Willem Rathborne. The Kingsbreath knew my parents.”

Tor narrowed his eyes. “That is a half-truth.”

Wren couldn’t help but be impressed by his instincts. “You’re good.”

“And you are stalling.”

She shoved him away as she slid off the desk. He let her wander over to the bookshelves, where she fingered the spine of a dusty tome.

“Do you intend to harm Prince Ansel?”

“Of course not. That would be like kicking a puppy.” Wren looked at him over her shoulder so he could read the truth in her eyes.

“And the king?”

“Your king is the harmful one.” Wren grimaced at the memory of their dance, of Alarik’s fingers pressing into the small of her back, the casual cruelty in how he spoke about the witches. “He makes my skin crawl.”

Tor’s gaze darkened, but he said nothing.

“Are you no better than a beast?” she challenged. “Can’t you speak against your master?”

“I am a soldier of the Gevran army. Bound by honor and loyalty,” he said gruffly. Perhaps it was Wren’s imagination, but the buttons of his uniform seemed to shine a little brighter in the moonlight. He rested a hand on the pommel of his sword. “I came here in service to my country. To protect my prince, my king, and Gevra from unseen threats. From imposters likeyou.”

Wren folded her arms. “Well, then you are not very good at your job.”

“You used me.” Tor shook his head, and he suddenly looked so crestfallen that Wren had to look away. “You made me think that...” He trailed off, swearing under his breath.

“Betraying Ansel would be worth it?” said Wren. “If you really cared about your prince, you would have kept your distance from me.”

“I should have,” said Tor ruefully. “You’re nothing but a liar.”

Wren hated how much that word stung her. But there were things—and people—she hated more.

“Youare the liar, Tor. You didn’t come here only for Ansel. You and the rest of your soldiers came to Eana to slaughter innocent people,”she said, seething. “Ididn’t bring a bloodthirsty army to Anadawn. I came herealoneto settle a family matter. Your king is the dangerous one here. Not me.”

“But you are a witch,” said Tor matter-of-factly.

Wren glared at him. “That’s irrelevant.”

The soldier’s laugh was hollow. “Wren.” He crossed the room in four easy strides. “I would wager it is the most important thing about you.”

Wren cursed her own stupidity. “Why did I have to go and do that damned enchantment?”

“I suspected long before tonight.”

“Liar,” she said again. “What does a Gevran such as you evenknowof witches?”

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