Page 6 of Cursed Crowns

“Ah,” said Rose, smiling at the ornate grandfather clock. “I believe it’s time for lunch.”

“How about a working lunch?” said Chapman, who, to Wren’s utter dismay, unfurled another scroll. “I thought it might be prudent todiscuss plans for the upcoming royal tour.”

“Can’t it wait?” said Wren, who was already halfway to the door.

Rose blushed at her own grumbling stomach. “I’m afraid I’m far too famished to eventhinkabout the royal tour right now, Chapman.”

Chapman opened his mouth to protest when the doors flew open, and a harried-looking soldier rushed in. He went straight to Captain Davers, both of them muttering in low, urgent tones, until Rose interrupted the men to insist they address the entire room, and indeed the queens that stood within it.

“There’s a protest in Eshlinn,” explained the soldier. “They’ve set fire to the mill.” He glanced at Davers. “We’ve had word it was organized by Barron. He was overheard spouting about it just yesterday in the Howling Wolf.”

Rose frowned. “What kind of protest?”

The soldier gulped. “A protest against the crown.”

“You mean a protest against the witches,” said Wren.

The soldier’s eyes darted as he looked between them. Then at Thea. Wren got the sense he was uncomfortable, not because of the protest in Eshlinn but by his presence here, among the very witches he had been taught his entire life to fear.

Coward, she thought viciously.

“Well,” said Captain Davers, stepping into the conversation, “these days, they are one and the same, are they not? It stands to reason that there would be some people in Eshlinn, and indeed throughout Eana, who wish to remain loyal to theoldways.”

“Of hating and harming defenseless witches, you mean?” said Wren.

Captain Davers raised his chin, meeting the challenge in her gaze.“Witchcraft is as strong a weapon as any. That is simply the truth.”

“An unhelpful one,” said Wren, deciding in that moment that she disliked him, too.

“That’s quite enough,” said Rose impatiently. “Who is this Barron, and what precisely does he want?”

“That would be Sir Edgar Barron,” said Chapman, his frown deepening. “You might recall he was the governor of Eshlinn, appointed by the Kingsbreath some years ago. Indeed, he trained under Captain Davers in the royal guard before his promotion. It was his job to keep a wary eye out for signs of... well, witchcraft. He was, shall we say,highlydevoted to his job.”

“And then we fired him,” said Wren, recalling the name, among many others who had met with the same fate the day after their coronation. “Mere days after we killed Rathborne, Barron’s benefactor.”

Captain Davers stiffened. “Succinctly put.”

Rose folded her arms. “Why can’t these men ever just go quietly? I mean,truly, take up candle making or carpentry. There are plenty of honorable ways to make a living that don’t involve killing innocent people.”

Wren was about to point out the irony of saying such a thing to Captain Davers, a man who had once supported a war against the witches, but she was startled by a loudcrack!from outside.

“Oh, that wayward Rowena.” Thea groaned, getting to her feet. “I’ll see to her.”

The old witch had barely taken a step when a scream rang out. Wren leaped up from her throne, just in time to see a flaming arrow vault over the gates. It landed in the courtyard, releasing a plume ofacrid smoke. She rushed to the window.

“What’s happening?” said Rose shrilly, as two more flaming arrows soared over the gates. Wren could see an angry crowd had gathered just beyond them.

“Goodness,” said Thea. “I’d call this more than a protest.”

“Captain Davers!” cried Rose. “Why on earth are you still standing there? Arrest those miscreants before one of their arrows strikes someone in my courtyard!”

“At once, Queen Rose.” The captain spun on his bootheel, barking orders to his soldiers as he left the throne room.

Wren frantically scanned the courtyard. The witches had retreated inside but she caught sight of Shen, who was running toward the commotion rather than away from it. He had already scaled the outer wall and was treading along the ramparts now. His head was low, his gaze fixed on the gathering below. They were yelling now, sending shouts of guttural fury along with each arrow.

Another flaming arrow sailed over the gate, this one higher and brighter than the one before it. The air turned hazy and gray as Davers and his soldiers rushed out of the palace with their swords drawn.

The crowd began to disperse, but not before another arrow flew. This one sailed through the courtyard and struck the balcony window. Wren shouted in fury as it exploded in a shower of sparks, setting the olive tree ablaze. Smoke streamed in through the open window, making her cough.

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