Page 16 of Cursed Crowns

Rose flung a macaron at her sister. “That dinner had a purpose. And you could have done a lot more to help it go smoothly. You sulked through every course.”

Wren turned to face her sister. “I’m sorry I’m finding it hard to be merry when ourgrandmother is probably being tortured.”

“I’m worried about her, too. But I’m choosing to be hopeful.”

“It’s not the same,” said Wren, and Rose said nothing, because it was true. It wasn’t the same. She wanted Banba to come home, but her mind didn’t burn with that thought every second of every day. She was able to focus on other things, like the upcoming royal tour, and Barron’s Arrows, and making sure the Ortha witches didn’t ransack Anadawn Palace in her absence.

Rose knew that every day without Banba worsened the hole in her sister’s heart. Wren could only fill it with worry, and the creeping fear that they might never again see their grandmother—the person who had raised Wren,lovedher, and fought ceaselessly for a world that would one day welcome her home.

There was a knock at the door, and Thea bustled in, wearing her dressing gown. “I hope it’s all right to arrive unannounced at the queens’ bedchamber.”

“You’re always welcome here, Thea.” Rose scooped up the macarons and laid them on the bedside table before rising to embrace her. “It’s late, why are you still up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Thea worried the edge of her cloth eye patchbetween her fingers, and Rose noticed her nails were chewed down to nothing. “I thought I’d come check on you both. Dinner was certainly a boisterous affair, wasn’t it?”

“The word you’re looking for isdisastrous,” said Wren as she disappeared into the bathing chamber to get ready for bed.

Rose groaned. “I had planned it to perfection.”

“The food was wonderful,” said Thea kindly. “As was your company.”

“Thank you, Thea. Would you like a half-crushed macaron?” Rose plucked the best one from the table. Thea took it gratefully, then perched on the edge of the bed to nibble on it.

“Things will get easier. Transitions are always hard, but the important thing is you have each other.”

Rose looked toward the bathing chamber, then dropped her voice so Wren couldn’t hear her. “The truth is, right now, I feel like I’m in this by myself. How can we ever run a country if we can’t even manage a dinner party?”

Thea laid her hand on Rose’s shoulder, sending a pulse of warmth into her bloodstream. It eased the heaviness of her heart, if only a little. “Let Wren be Wren for now. This is all new for her, too, remember? And she is trying to make sense of the world without Banba.”

Rose nodded. “I’m sorry. I know you are, too.”

Thea smiled, but there was sadness in her gaze. “All will be well.”

“Too bad you aren’t a seer,” murmured Rose.

“I might not be a seer, but I know you and Wren will be all right as long as you stick together.” Thea lumbered to her feet, her knees creaking in the silence. “Now get some rest. Even queens need their sleep.”

7

Wren

When Wren returned from the bathing chamber, washed and dressed for bed, her sister was already fast asleep. There was a bird sitting on the windowsill. Not just any bird, Wren realized with a start. It was a Gevran nighthawk. And in its beak, a note.

Wren,

Come and say that to my face. I dare you.

Alarik

Wren clutched the letter in her hands, seized by a rush of determination. These past weeks, she had been consumed with thoughts of Banba,prayingfor a sign like this, a spark of fire at her heels, that would propel her in the right direction. And now here it was—the push that she needed. King Alarik had practically invited her to Gevra.

She knew she had to go. She would address him in person. Face him, monarch to monarch. Fight him if she had to. She had her magic and her wits. Her charm. And, if all else failed, she hoped Tor might help her, just as he had before.

Wren blew out a breath as her plan crystallized. She crushed the letter in her fist, hope hammering in her heart.

Hours later, when the residents of Anadawn Palace were deep in slumber, Wren sat up in bed. Rose was frowning in her sleep. She had been tossing and turning for hours. The royal tour was due to set off in the morning, and while Rose might have put on an eager face at dinner, in sleep, she couldn’t outrun her anxiety.

Wren slipped her hand under her pillow and removed a pinch of Ortha sand from her drawstring pouch. Thankfully, the witches had brought plenty with them. Although Wren could use any kind of earth for her enchantments, the sands of Ortha, where the witches had lived in secret for the past eighteen years, was the most potent. She felt its power move between her fingers as she looked down on Rose, trying to ignore the guilt squirming inside her.

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