Page 96 of Cursed Crowns

Ansel plowed on. “When I look at Rose, my heart swells in size.For her smile... her smile...”

“Is like the first rays of sunrise,” suggested Tor.

Ansel turned to Wren. “Yes,” he said delightedly. “That’sexactlywhat it’s like.”

But Wren was looking at Tor.

He cleared his throat. “I think that’s enough poetry for now.”

Ansel extended his hand to Wren. “Shall we dance, my sunbeam?”

“You know what? Fine,” said Wren, giving into the absurdity in the hopes it might lead to a breakthrough. “Let’s dance.” She stood up, all too conscious of Tor’s attention as Prince Ansel put his other hand on her waist, and she rested hers on his shoulder.

The prince stood still, staring at her.

Wren raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t we going to dance?”

“We are dancing, my love.”

“Ansel, we’re standing still.”

“Ah, my mistake.”

“Come on, let’s sway. Here. Just like this. That’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. Shall I sing a little something?” suggested Ansel.

“Please don’t,” said Wren.

Too late. The prince launched into an old Gevran folk song about wolves. It was slow and haunting and woefully out of tune. Wren looked to Tor. “Please help me.”

Tor chuckled. Wren turned back to Ansel and closed her eyes, trying to come up with some way to make this moment—which felt like it was going to stretch on into eternity—bearable. And then something entirely unexpected happened.

Tor started singing, too, his voice low and lilting as it joined with Ansel’s, guiding the melody into a surprisingly pleasing tune. Wren offered him a grateful smile as he sang them into the next verse.

For a while, Wren watched the soldier sing as he watched her dance, all three of them tangled together in this strange moment that, in the end, wasn’t so unbearable after all.

Not long after her dance with Ansel, which had no effect on the prince’s memory but had bruised more than a few of Wren’s toes and sacrificed two of Ansel’s entirely, Tor was called away. This morning’s avalanche had buried the road into Grinstad with rubble, and he had been tasked with assembling a team of soldiers to clear it.

“I’ll come and check on you two later,” he promised, as he pulled the door shut behind him. Wren listened to the rest of his goodbye through the wood. “Hang in there, Wren.”

“Bring me back a bottle of frostfizz!” she yelled after him. “Or five!”

“So that we may toast to our perfect union!” shouted Ansel.

“Shhh!” Wren turned on the prince. “Keep your voice down!”

“You cannot silence love, Rose.”

Wren slumped against her dresser. “I need a miracle.”

“A miracle.” Ansel nodded somberly. “I think I know what you’re getting at, my love. And I agree. Weshouldhave a baby.”

“This isn’t working,” said Wren with a groan. “I can’t fix you, Ansel. You don’t even know who I am.”

“Of course I do. You’re my darling Rose. And you’re so full of beauty and light that you make the very room glow.”

“No, I don’t,” said Wren impatiently.

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