Page 118 of Cursed Crowns

Wren blinked in surprise. She wondered how long he had been watching her before she fell through the ice, and, more important,whyhe had been watching her in the first place.“Why are we talking about ice skating?”

Alarik laid his forehead against the windowpane. “Because you never know how much you’ll miss a moment until it’s behind you.”

“You still have the pond,” said Wren.

“But I don’t have my father.” He ran a hand through his hair, tracing the black line that ran through it. “The morning after he perished, I woke up with this streak. It matches the one inside me.” He went back to watching the blizzard. “A hailstorm took my father from me, Wren. An act of nature stronger than any king, any beast. There was nothing I could do about it, nowhere I could channel my rage.” He braced his hands on the window ledge, a breath coming through his nose. Wren noticed he was dressed in black again—another frock coat pristinely cut, with a high collar and buttons of brushed steel. “But Ansel, my littlebrother, was murdered.”

“By Willem Rathborne,” Wren reminded him.

“In a game thatyoumade up,” he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. His pale blue eyes were violent and for a fleeting moment, Wren thought he was going to launch off the ledge and tear her apart. “A game where Ansel was a pawn. You never cared about what would happen to my brother. Heartbreak. Humiliation.Death.”

“That’s not true,” said Wren quickly.

“Isn’t it?”

She paused, struck by a sudden, horrible realization. Itwastrue. She had never considered what would happen to Ansel after she seized the throne, only what would happen to her. To the witches. Alarik wasright. It was her game. And Ansel had been the one to die for it. “You’re right,” she said quietly, slumping back onto the stool. “I didn’t think about him at all.”

Alarik said nothing, only watched her.

“But that was my rage,” whispered Wren. “My pain.” She looked up at him, and the rest of it came spilling out. “Willem Rathborne took my parents from me before I ever knew them. He murdered them in cold blood, took my sister and molded her into his puppet. And me? I grew up on the edge of the world, where the wind howled me to sleep and the gulls shrieked me awake every morning, without the other half of me. Without Rose. When I came back to Anadawn, all I cared about was the throne. I wanted to seize control of my kingdom and make Rathborne pay for what he did. I didn’t care about anything else. I didn’tseeanyone else. Not even my own sister.”

Alarik pressed his lips together, considering her words. “Your loss is what drives you.”

“Not loss,” said Wren. “Revenge.”

He offered the ghost of a smile. “We are not so dissimilar.”

This time, Wren didn’t argue. “Maybe not,” she admitted.

“This is the terrible trouble with family. They make you vulnerable.”

“You mean love. It’s love that’s the problem.”

“A horrible business,” Alarik agreed. “Just look at my mother.”

Wren nodded thoughtfully. Then something occurred to her, and it almost made her laugh. “You know you’ll have to marry someone if you want to continue your bloodline?”

“And won’t you?”

Wren smirked. “Twin queens.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Or you could return Gevra to the ice bears when you’re done with it,” said Wren. “Maybe Borvil would like a go at ruling.”

Alarik glared at her. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?”

Wren laughed. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“As ever,” he said sarcastically. “I had hoped that Ansel would take care of our bloodline. Anika is too much of a free spirit to commit to anything. Anyone. But my brother was always so eager to marry. So eager to love. Happy to pay the price for it.”

Wren was quiet then, her heart sinking as they returned to Ansel. She had one more truth to surrender, and no matter what happened afterward, she had to say it. And the king had to hear it. “I can’t save him, Alarik.”

The silence stretched. The blizzard howled. “I know.”

“I would if I could,” said Wren, and she truly, desperately meant it. “IwishI could.”

“I know that, too.” He stood up, turning his back to her so he could face the blizzard. Or perhaps, he was hiding the emotion on his face. “I’m not ready to let him go,” he said, unable to hide it from his voice. “Even as he is.”

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