Page 2 of Cursed Crowns

“Two,” said Wren as another rotten piece of fruit vaulted over the gates. She watched Shen flit across the courtyard, trying to spot the protester among the masses, or perhaps to discern if there was more than one. The crowd was still surging forward, as though something—or someone—was pushing them.

When the second tomato landed in the fountain, Rose stepped back from the balcony. “Very well,” she said, blowing one last theatrical kiss to the crowd. Another cheer went up, drowning out the next shout, but Wren swore she could hear the word“witch”on the wind. The twins retreated from the balcony, both of them making a show of laughing gaily until they returned to the sanctity of the throne room, where the balcony doors slammed shut behind them.

They stopped laughing in the same breath.

“Well, that was concerning,” said Wren.

Rose wrinkled her nose. “What a waste of perfectly good food.”

“I knew all those cheers were too good to be true.” Wren scraped her hands through her hair, dislodging her crown. There.Much better. “Eana doesn’t want to be ruled by witches, Rose. Even one they know.”

Rose waved her concerns away. “Oh, please. That little protest wasn’t even enough to make a bowl of soup. There’s no need to be so dramatic.”

But Wren couldn’t help it. Without Banba here, everything felt twisted, wrong. There was a pit in her stomach, and those four simple words—OUT WITH THE WITCHES—were only making it worse.

“I’m just trying to be realistic.” Wren’s footsteps echoed after her as she marched to her throne. The room was the biggest in the entirepalace, the ceiling covered in shining gold leaf. The walls were hung with gilt-framed oil paintings and emerald drapes adding the barest sliver of warmth to the chamber. A couple of hours ago, it had been teeming with envoys and nobles from every corner of the country—as well as the Ortha witches—but it was empty now, save for the twins and the guards standing watch over them.

Wren sank onto the velvet seat and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm her rioting thoughts. Willem Rathborne might be dead, but he had left them a legacy of problems. Their evil Kingsbreath had spent eighteen years preaching the same hate as the kingdom’s long-dead Protector and poisoning the country against the witches. Wren and Rose would have to do more than wave from a balcony for a few hours to hope to undo all of it. And until they did, the witches who had come from Ortha only days ago would have to remain at Anadawn, where they could be protected from those in the kingdom who still wished them harm.

Wren massaged the new ache in her temples. If their grandmother were here, she would know exactly what to do. She would lay her hand on Wren’s shoulders and strengthen her with a few choice words, as only Banba could.

“You’re thinking about Banba, aren’t you?” Suddenly, Rose was before Wren, wearing the same look of concern. “No wonder you’re so anxious. I told you, we’re going to get her back.”

“When?” said Wren impatiently. “How?”

“I’m going to write a strategic letter to King Alarik. Monarch to monarch,” said Rose with such sureness Wren dared to hope it might work. “I imagine emotions are still running high after the death of poor Ansel.” Rose flinched at the mention of the prince, no doubt recallinghow desperately she had tried to save him, only to fail. “Perhaps a little diplomacy—and a well-worded apology—will do a world of good. I’ll see if he’s willing to open some kind of negotiation for Banba’s release. Once the crowd disperses, I’ll go down to the mews at once.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“I’d rather you left the diplomacy to me.” Rose patted her sister’s hand. “A queen you might be, but it is going to take awhile for you to learn what it means to be royal.”

Wren glared up at her sister. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I can see that dagger peeking out of your bodice and I know you’ve got another one fastened to your ankle,” said Rose good-naturedly. “And in this delicate negotiation, my darling sister, the quill will befarmightier than the sword.”

“Fine. But if you’re wrong and something happens to Banba, I’m going to drive a big shiny sword through Alarik Felsing’s frosted heart.”

“Oh, Wren, I am never wrong.” Rose picked up her skirts and flounced away, tossing a winning smile over her shoulder.

2

Rose

An hour or so later, after composing her letter to King Alarik, Rose held her head high as she strode through the palace corridors. She nodded and smiled at passing servants and soldiers, pretending everything was going perfectly to plan. Pretending her reign wasn’t off to a truly terrible start.

Back in the throne room, she’d put on a brave face for Wren, whose temper was always flickering inside her, ready to erupt into a blaze. But as the day wore on, Rose could feel the cold tongue of her fear licking at her toes, and she knew if she let herself give in to it, it would devour her.

So she would simply kick the fear away. As she had always done.

Now that the crowd had dispersed, she needed air and a moment to pull herself together. It was beginning to feel like the stone walls of Anadawn were closing in on her, like if she didn’t get out of the palace immediately, she’d be trapped inside it forever.

She pushed on the door that led out to the courtyard, only for it to refuse to budge. Rose bit her tongue to stop herself from screaming out in frustration. She winced as she shoved it with her shoulder. With onestrong push, it groaned open. And then, at last, she was outside, in the fresh afternoon air.

Rose wandered into her garden, at once calmed by the familiar sweetness of her roses. They were at their peak now, bursting into bloom all over, as if each one was trying to outdo the next. She lingered at a vibrant yellow rose bush and closed her eyes, inhaling its scent.

“Lucky flowers,” said a voice right behind her. “I wish you’d smile at me like that.”

Rose yelped, lost her footing, and nearly toppled into the thorns.

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