Page 133 of Cursed Crowns

They turned at the sound of shouting. Tilda had burst into the throne room and was causing a commotion. The young redhead vaulted out ofone guard’s reach, then ducked another’s on her way to reach Rose. “I want to fight,” she burst out. “But no one will let me go outside!”

“And with good reason,” said Rose, shooing her back inside. “You’re still a child.”

Tilda jutted out her chin. “I’m a warrior. Shen trained me. And now I’m the only one we’ve got.”

Rose smiled, taking heart in the girl’s courage. “You’re very brave to want to go out there, but if Shen were here, he’d tell you the same thing. It’s too dangerous.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, Tilda,” said Rose, cutting her off. “My decision is final.”

Tilda stormed off, just as a horn blared outside. The Royal Anadawn cavalry—fifteen hundred impeccably trained soldiers—came riding around the east wall with their swords drawn.

The Arrows who had made it over the bridge began to charge, their shouts rising on the morning wind. Though she had lost sight of him, Rose knew Barron was somewhere in the fray.

“Even numbers,” she muttered, looking between her soldiers and the advancing Arrows. “How are there somanyof them?”

“We have witches up our sleeve,” Thea reminded her. “The balance is still in our favor.”

Rose glanced sidelong at the Queensbreath. “Then why do you look so nervous?”

“Because I care so much. About this queendom, and everything it stands for.”

Rose counted the witches gathering out on the ramparts. There were around fifty tempests and enchanters, including Rowena, Bryony, Grady, and Cathal, all of whom had forgone the traditional Eanauniform in favor of dark leathers and hooded cloaks. The rest of the witches were either too young or too old to fight and were sheltering inside the entrance hall with the townspeople.

Barron’s army struck first. A volley of steel-tipped arrows whizzed through the air, knocking a soldier from his horse.

Rose rushed to the balustrade. “RAISE THE WIND!” she shouted, drowning out whatever order Captain Davers was barking down in the courtyard. “BLOW THEM BACK TO THE RIVER!”

Rowena twirled like a dancer, savoring her moment. She flung her hands out, and the other tempests followed suit, sending out a burst of wind so strong it howled. The gust thundered toward the Arrows, but to Rose’s horror, they turned sideways, raising a wall of shields. The wind pushed against it, but it couldn’t break through. The Arrows gritted their teeth, driving onwards in perfect formation.

“That is annoyingly clever,” muttered Rose.

“We still have our enchanters,” said Thea calmly.

“They’re not close enough yet.” Rose didn’twantthem to be close enough. She had been hoping not to have to use the enchanters at all.

Within minutes, the cavalry was upon the Arrows. They met in a clash of steel and fire, the horses rearing up as flames snaked across the grass and burned their hooves.

“How are they doing that?” said Rose, leaning over the balustrade to get a closer look.

“Oil,” said Thea uneasily. “They’re firing it with the arrows.”

Soldiers were thrown to the ground, their own horses trampling them in panic, while the Arrows seized the upper hand, slashing at them from above.

Over the next few hours, Rose watched in silent horror as a fierceand bloody battle surrounded Anadawn Palace. The Arrows fought with a savagery she had never seen before, diving into the fray without care for each other or their own safety. They burned the earth and struck the animals, screaming themselves hoarse as they swung their weapons, cutting down anyone who got in their way.

“Where is their honor?” fumed Rose. “There’s supposed to be an order to these things!”

A burning arrow sailed through the air and struck the balustrade. Rose yelped as she leaped backward, pulling Thea with her.

Down on the ramparts, Rowena tipped her head back. “Sorry! Missed that one!”

Rose could see the tempest’s magic was waning. She needed to rest. They all did. Another arrow whizzed past her ear. Grady used a whip of wind to spin it around and fire it back at the Arrows. “I wish I had a hundred more tempests,” muttered Rose. “No. Make that a thousand.”

Down on the battlefield, her soldiers were barely holding the line. The Arrows were prepared to fight dirty, and for every ten of them that fell, twenty more seemed to come running over the Silvertongue.

The balcony doors burst open, and Chapman appeared, ashen faced. “Stars above, Queen Rose. What on earth are you doing out here?” He grabbed her wrist, tugging her away from the balustrade. “The Arrows are within firing range. You’ll be struck!”

---