Page 14 of Cursed Crowns

Rose had seated Tilda on the other side of Shen, since the young witch was most likely to behave under his supervision. Then there was Celeste, who sat at Rose’s left-hand side. And Thea, their new Queensbreath, on the other.

Wren arrived twenty minutes late with dust in her hair and Elske at her side.

Rose sighed. “I asked you not to bring the wolf.”

“What wolf?” Wren feigned confusion as Elske crouched behind her skirts.

“Please just sit. Be merry.”

Wren sat at the other end of the table and took a large slug of wine. “What’ve I missed?”

“We’ve received another report on Barron,” said Shen by way of greeting. “The swine’s been traveling from village to village, preaching his hatred of the witches and whipping up supporters.”

“Shen,” chided Rose, “this is hardly appropriate dinner conversation.”

“Not to mention it’s privileged information,” said Davers, his moustache twitching in disapproval.

“Information thatIfound out by asking around Eshlinn,” said Shen. “It was sitting right under your nose, Captain.”

“And what do you expect us to do with the information anyway?” interjected Rowena. “We’re not even allowed to leave this stupid palace.”

“Not yet,” said Rose. “It’s for your own safety.”

“And theirs,” muttered Captain Davers.

The first course was a welcome distraction. Rose couldn’t help but beam at the whipped goat’s cheese tartlets, drizzled in pomegranate sauce and garnished with crushed walnuts. Tilda shoved two in her mouth at the same time, then nicked one of Shen’s for good measure.

Shen pretended not to notice, which made Tilda giggle in triumph.

Rowena chose that moment to launch into a thoroughly unsuitable tale of a flatulent goat who once lived at Ortha, which sent half the table into hysterics. Even Thea, who had grown increasingly forlorn these past few weeks, surrendered a chuckle. “Banba hated that goat more than anything. Twice she blew him out to sea, only to find him back in our hut the next morning.”

Rose cleared her throat. “Thank you for that, Rowena. Does anyone have a story that’s not about goats?”

Shen raised his fork. “I’ve got a good one about a farting donkey. I swear I’ve never met an angrierorsmellier animal.”

Rose frowned at him. “Shen!”

“Tell it!” squealed Tilda. “Oh,pleasetell it.”

“Go on,” goaded Wren, who Rose was quite sure already knew the story.

“Oh, look, the next course!” said Rose before Shen could launch into the tale. She had selected a duo of lobster and a perfect cut of beef, and she was very pleased with how it had turned out. The shellfish was meant to represent the Ortha witches’ home by the sea, while the meat symbolized the strength of the capital. For an accompaniment, she had chosen a generous helping of creamy mashed potatoes that she knew were Wren’s favorite, and a medley of buttered green vegetables to showcase the bounty of the Errinwilde.

Much to her chagrin, nobody was focused on the food.

Wren kept glancing at the window as if she was hoping a falcon would crash through it at any moment with a response from the Gevran king. Tilda was sneaking Elske pieces of meat under the table. Celeste wouldn’t stop glaring at Rowena, who made a point of turning her nose up at every single dish. Thea was just as distracted as Wren. Rose didn’t miss the way she kept twisting the simple silver wedding band on her finger, and knew she must be thinking of her wife, Banba.

Shen and Captain Davers seemed intent on outdoing each other in everything. It began with seeing who could crack open their lobster claws with their bare hands before escalating into downing entire goblets of wine in one go, then seeing how many times they could spin their knives in the air before catching it by the blade. Thea had to lean over and intervene when Tilda tried to join the competition.

Exhausted, Rose finished her wine and poured another. She swirled the dregs in her glass, wishing the heady liquid held the secret to salvaging the chaotic evening.A toast!she realized suddenly. That’s what the dinner was missing. She stood up, swaying a little on her feet. “I wish to make a toast to the future of Eana!”

“To the witches,” said Rowena, holding her goblet aloft.

“To Anadawn,” countered Captain Davers, whose cheeks had turned rosy.

Celeste lifted her glass. “And to the blossoming friendship between them.”

Tilda grabbed Shen’s goblet. “And to—”

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