Page 112 of Burning Crowns

‘Wren,’ said Tor, in a low voice. ‘Take a breath.’

But there was no air to breathe. Her fear was smothering her, grief sharpening her temper like a blade.

‘I tried to save her,’ said Shen, his voice hitching with guilt. ‘I nearly swam to my own death searching for her down there. I did everything I could. I swear it, Wren. I promise—’

‘Save your promises,’ said Wren, viciously. She could feel the curse feeding on her pain. It reared up like a dragon, willing to burn anyone who came close to her. ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’

This time, when she shook Shen off he let her go. So did Tor, both men falling back as Wren stalked into the palace, looking for answers. Though she knew, just like her sister, she would not find them there.

Rose was not dead, Wren decided in the throne room a short while later. She knew what Shen had told her – a story echoed by a stricken Celeste and an unusually morose Kai – that Rose had been dragged into the deep by Oonagh. But even so, Wren could not bring herself to believe it.

‘If Rose were dead, I would feel it,’ she said, as she sat half slumped in her throne.

Shen had followed Wren to the throne room but he was out on the balcony now, his hands braced on the balustrade, his head dropped as though he could no longer bear to hold it up. Kai was with him, a supportive hand resting on his cousin’s shoulder. Tor was standing straight-backed at the doors, guarding Wren’s privacy. Though she knew by the concern on his face, he was watching over her, too. Ready to catch her if she fell, to soothe her if she screamed.

Celeste was perched on the arm of Wren’s throne, staring vacantly at the floor. She hadn’t said all that much since Wren had arrived, both of them sitting together in the pooling silence, trying to fathom what had happened.

Though the palace was thrumming with activity, it felt strangely empty without Rose, as if even the proud stone walls missed the determined sweep of her skirts, the trill of her voice echoing down the hallways, the sound of her humming as she tended to her roses.

Wren ached for Rose’s presence now, hating all the moments she had been short with her sister or acted disinterested in her plans, her dreams. She missed Rose’s gentle warmth and clever mind, her unwavering loyalty and clear-eyed optimism. All these months she had taken Rose for granted, sure that she would lead the way, planning their future with the unerring sureness for which Wren had come to trust her.

Ever since their reunion last year, Wren had never even imagined a world where they would not be together, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. Ruling. Laughing. Living side by side as their parents would have wished.If Banba had been one half of Wren’s heart, Rose was the other, and Wren could not –would not– simply go on without her.

No. She refused to believe it.

‘She’s not dead,’ she said, even as her voice broke. She scrubbed the tear from her cheek but another one slipped out. And then another. ‘Shecan’tbe dead.’

Celeste raised her head, revealing her swollen eyes and tear-streaked face. ‘I saw Rose dragged beneath the waves myself. She didn’t surface. We searched for hours, but Oonagh moved so fast we never had a chance.’ She raked her hands through her hair, pulling salt crystals from the coils. ‘She’s gone. Nobody can survive that long beneath the water.’

‘Oonagh can,’ said Wren, recalling the vision she had once seen of her ancestor. How, following the altercation between Oonagh and Ortha Starcrest on the banks of the Silvertongue, Oonagh had fallen into the river only to enchant gills in her neck and swim as a merrow all the way to Gevra. Everyone thought she was dead but the truth was, Oonagh never died – not really. She simply swam. Not as herself, but as a creature made to breathe underwater.

‘Oonagh is already dead,’ said Celeste. ‘Or undead. The point is, the same rules don’t apply to her.’

Wren frowned. ‘She still would have needed a spell.’ In fact, Wren had cast that very same enchantment herself as a child, swimming in the Ortha Sea for hours until Banba’s voice went hoarse trying to call her home. Which meant it was possible – if not wholly plausible – that Rose had learned that enchantment, too. She had been practising, after all.

‘Rose didn’t drown.’ Wren stood up, and wiped her cheeks again.Steadied her voice. ‘I would feel it if she did. I know it.’ She gripped her sword, willing herself to believe it. ‘I know my sister. She wouldn’t have given up so easily.’ She turned back to Celeste. ‘Have you seen anything? If not in the sea, then in the starcrests?’

Celeste’s brows knitted. ‘Only the forest I glimpsed in the fire at Carrig.’ She shook her head. ‘I saw it before we lost Rose.’

‘Forest?’ said Wren, coming closer. ‘What kind of forest?’

‘One that weeps,’ said Celeste, meaningfully, and Wren knew at once what she meant. The Weeping Forest that bordered the Whisperwind Cliffs. ‘That’s where we thought Oonagh was going when we set sail,’ Celeste went on. ‘It’s why we left Carrig in such a hurry.’

‘Of course that’s where she’s going,’ muttered Wren, as understanding dawned. ‘Oonagh is taking Rose to the forest of dead witches.’ At Celeste’s frown, she went on. ‘Oonagh’s raising an undead army. And what’s better than a single undead witch?’ She swallowed thickly. ‘Thousandsof dead witches.’

‘But what does any of that have to do with Rose?’ said Celeste.

Wren froze. Suddenly she knew it had everything to do with Rose.

Celeste came to her feet, reading the look on her face. ‘What is it … ?’

‘To raise that many witches, Oonagh will need a huge spell. A great sacrifice …’ And what was more powerful than a queen of the realm? The ancestor of not just Eana the first witch, but Ortha Starcrest, too. Wren’s cheeks began to prickle. Her head spun as her legs started to tremble. The curse devoured her fear, grasping for more.Tor moved like a wolf, catching Wren before she buckled. She steadied herself on his arm, giving voice to her terror. ‘I think she intends to use Rose.’

Celeste’s dark eyes widened. ‘Do you really think Rose is still alive?’

Wren nodded, grimly. ‘If she is, she won’t be for long.’ There wasn’t a moment to lose. If Wren’s hunch was right, then Rose was in danger, and about as far from help as the country allowed. ‘We have to go now. We have to hurry.’ She turned to Tor, grabbing his lapels. ‘I need you to go to the Captain of the Anadawn Guard, at once. Tell him to raise our army. The queen rides at dusk. And we’ll need provisions if we’re to cut through the desert.’

Tor was gone in the next heartbeat, marching purposefully through the halls of Anadawn and carrying her urgency as his own.

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