Page 5 of Cursed Crowns

“Archer Morwell,” said Wren, suddenly recalling the name. She snapped her eyes open. “I’m sure Celeste knows one of their sons. Rather well, if I remember correctly. Apparently, he hasveryimpressive shoulders.”

“Wren!” hissed Rose. “That is entirely improper throne room conversation!”

“Oh, calm down. No one cares.” Wren swept her hand around, indicating the ten bored-looking soldiers in their midst. Captain Davers, the stern-faced head of the royal guard, was standing sentry by the doorway, keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings. And then there was only Thea, who was making a valiant effort to stifle her chuckle atthe mention of Rose’s best friend’s dalliance.

Chapman cleared his throat awkwardly. “Onward.” He glanced at his scroll. “Captain Davers, send in the messenger from Gallanth, please.” A moment later, the doors to the throne room swung open, and a boy with unkempt black hair and a paltry goatee was ushered in.

He bowed at the waist. “Your Majesties,” he said, wiping his hands on his trousers. “I, er, well, firstly, congratulations, on, um, well, there being two of you, I suppose, and, uh, well, we in the city of Gallanth are most honored to—”

“Please get to the point,” Wren called out.

Rose swatted her hand.

“Sorry,” said Wren quickly. “I only meant that you can drop the pleasantries.”

Rose offered the nervous messenger a beatific smile. “Though we dosoappreciate the good wishes. Thank you, sir.”

“What of Gallanth?” prompted Wren, picturing in her mind the sunset city that lay to the west of the desert, its mighty clock tower rising high above its sandstone walls.

“It’s not Gallanth.” The boy swept the hair from his eyes. “It’s the desert. It’s moving.”

“The desert is always moving,” said Wren. “That’s why we call it the Restless Sands.”

“Only it’s notjustrestless,” the boy went on. “It’s more... um, angry?”

The twins exchanged a look. “Angry?” they chorused.

“It’s the sand... it’s started spilling over our walls,” the boy went on. “Every so often, it comes like a wave and floods our city. It’s buried half the Kerrcal trading route.”

“Goodness.” Rose pressed a hand to her chest. “Has anyone been hurt?”

“We’ve lost camels. My father’s best mule was swept away. And it’s swallowed the huts closest to the border.”

Wren glanced at Thea. The healer was unusually grim-faced. “Peculiar,” she muttered. “The desert has always kept to its own rhythm, but it’s never encroached on the Kerrcal Road before. Nor has it breached the border towns.”

“We must send someone out there to investigate,” said Rose.

Chapman frowned. “The Ganyeve Desert is beyond Anadawn’s reach. It’s unsurvivable.”

“Not to everyone,” said Rose, and Wren knew she was thinking of Shen, who was somewhere close at hand. Drinking wine in the kitchens with Cam and Celeste, most likely, or perhaps he was training Tilda, the youngest warrior witch, out in the courtyard. In any case, they would have to tell him of this as soon as possible. After all, Shen was desert-born. He knew the currents of the sand better than anyone. If something was amiss in the Ganyeve, he would want to know of it.

“And in the meantime,” Rose went on, “we’ll send as many soldiers as we can spare back to Gallanth with you. You’ll need to reinforce the town walls and erect new lodgings, as far from the desert boundary as you can.” She nodded to Captain Davers. “See that the guards check on the town of Dearg as well. They’re part of the desert trading route, after all, and if memory serves me, their walls are lower. Their risk is even greater.”

Davers dipped his chin. “I’ll see to it, Queen Rose.”

“Wise as ever,” said Chapman approvingly.

Not for the first time that day, Wren felt woefully out of her depth.She was grateful for her sister, who was not only born to rule but had prepared for it. Committed her life to it. Wren had committed hers to Banba. Her grandmother had been preparing for this queendom for the last eighteen years, after all. Wren had only ever planned as far as her coronation day. She had always expected Banba to be there for that moment, and all the ones that came after, for her guiding hand to sit heavy on Wren’s shoulder. Back at Ortha, they would talk about it most mornings when they walked the cliffs, tending to their vegetables. And sometimes late at night, when the beach fires burned low, and it felt like their dreams of the future were dancing in the smoke.

We will rule the new world together, little bird,Banba used to promise her.We will bring our people home at last, and the great witch, Eana, will smile down on us from the skies.

The longer Wren went on without her grandmother, the more her guilt grew. It gnawed at the very edges of her heart, whispered to her in the quiet of night. If King Alarik didn’t respond to Rose soon, she would have to take matters into her own hands. To forsake the pen and use the sword instead.

After all, Banba would do the same for her.

There is no weapon sharp enough to keep us apart, little bird. No world cruel enough to deny our destinies.

The boy from Gallanth left, and, just as quickly, another messenger arrived. And after that, another, and another, and another. And then, finally, there was silence.

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