Page 13 of Cursed Crowns

Wren thought of the starcrest at the window, how it had arrived a moment before Celeste. She had raised the possibility of Celeste being a seer once before, but it hadn’t gone down well then. She wondered if she was ready to have the conversation again. “What kind of dream?” she said warily. “What was I up to?”

Celeste hesitated. “You were dead.”

Wren’s stomach swooped.

Celeste’s gaze darted to the window. “It was just a dream. Not a proper vision. Nothing to do with the starcrests or the night sky. That’s how it works, right? A dream could mean anything.” The more she talked, the less sure she sounded. “And we don’ttrulyknow whether I even am a seer. I’m nineteen years old, for goodness’ sake. If I was awitch, wouldn’t I have figured that out long before now?”

Wren held her tongue instead of reminding her how long it had taken Rose to figure out she was a healer, or how difficult it would have been for Celeste to open herself up to her craft while living in the shadow of the Kingsbreath. He would have killed her for it.

“It was just an image,” Celeste went on. “Your lips were blue, but your eyes were wide open.... You were frozen.”

Wren tried to ignore the goosebumps prickling along her skin. “Like you said, it was just a dream.”

“Maybe so. But whatever happens, you can’t go to Gevra, Wren.”

“What makes you think I would ever do something so reckless?”

“Everything I know about you so far,” said Celeste flatly. “I know how worried you are about Banba. How badly you want to save her. But you must know your first duty is to your sister. To your country.”

Wren’s nostrils flared. Rescuing Banba wasn’t just some half-baked plan cooked up by a heartbroken granddaughter. It was part of Wren’s strategy to save Eana and ensure a prosperous future for the witches. Banba was the perfect adviser, the Queensbreath Wren and Rose needed to deal with the likes of Barron and his troublesome ilk. The sooner she came home, the better for everyone.

“Why have you gone quiet?” said Celeste suspiciously.

“I’m just thinking about what we’ll have for dinner.”

“No. You’re changing the subject.” Celeste raised a warning finger. “If you eventhinkabout setting foot on a ship—”

“What Ithinkis that you love to boss me around even more than my sister does,” Wren interrupted. “You’re really very good at it.” She threaded her arm through Celeste’s and steered her from the room, letting the door slam shut behind them. “And besides, what makes youthink you’d ever catch me in time?”

“You forget I have the benefit of foresight.”

“So, you’re willing to admit it, then?” said Wren as they wound their way down the stairwell, Elske padding softly behind them. “That you’re a seer after all?”

“I suppose we won’t know for sure unless your corpse winds up in Gevra.”

“It won’t,” said Wren.

Celeste glanced at her uneasily in the dimness. “We’ll see,” she said.

6

Rose

Rose believed there was very little that couldn’t be solved by a well-executed dinner party. And the lingering mistrust between the guards at Anadawn and the boisterous Ortha witches was no exception.

At least she had believed that up until tonight.

Rose had made a special effort to brighten up the formal dining room by filling it with vases of fresh flowers, flinging open the dusty drapes to let the light in, and ordering the table to be set with lace tablecloths and gilded flatware.

She’d even gone as far as to take down all the tasteless battle paintings that usually adorned the walls, replacing them with a portrait of her parents on their wedding day and a breathtaking landscape of the Errinwilde that had once hung in their bedroom.

And yet the room still felt stuffy.

Worse than that. It felt haunted. She couldn’t help picturing the ghost of Willem Rathborne looming behind her as she sat at the head of the table, waiting for the others to arrive. She swore she could even smell his rancid breath as she imagined him correcting her posture.

When the clock chimed seven, Rose stood to welcome her guests. After another productive day of working on the royal tour together,Rose had decided to extend an invite to Captain Davers. He sat between Shen and Rowena, the sharp-tongued young tempest who had tried to kill Rose when she first met her in Ortha. She had since apologized for it, but her constant use of storm magic inside the halls of Anadawn had done little to bolster the guards’ opinion of her.

Captain Davers at least was making an effort to hide his disdain. The head of the Anadawn Guard was stocky and pale, with a strong chin, cropped sandy blond hair and a moustache to match. He was one of the longest-serving soldiers at Anadawn. He had watched over Rose since she was a little girl and would often slip her a caramel whenever he found her sulking in the rose garden.

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