Page 126 of Burning Crowns

Shen seemed to know it, too. He crushed her against him, pinning her arms to her body. Then he spun her away from Rose. Together, they faced Oonagh across the long grass. ‘Just hold on a little longer,’ he whispered. ‘Help is coming.’ She jerked and thrashed as he walked her forward, easily weathering her attempts to flee. ‘There, Wren. Do you see the grey sails down in the bay?’

Wren couldn’t respond but her heart gladdened at the sight of the Gevran warships below them and the fact that for all her blood-soaked power, Oonagh Starcrest had not yet spotted them. She was too busy leering at Wren, enjoying the struggle between her and Shen.

‘Isn’t one sister enough for you?’ Oonagh crowed. ‘That one belongs to me.’

Shen ignored the taunt. His hand came to the hilt of Night’s Edge. ‘Can you drop it?’

Wren tried but it was no use. She clenched her teeth, fighting through the shadows inside her, trying to find a precious kernel of free will. She knew it was buried in there somewhere, hidden deep in the recesses of her soul. She crafted her words, pushed them out on to her tongue, and with all the strength in her body, managed to eke out a single plea. ‘Take it.’

Shen ripped the sword from her grasp and a new scream poured from Wren. She slumped on to the grass, cradling her twisted wrist.

‘Wren!’ Rose was pacing at the treeline, too frightened to go to her sister, too rooted to turn and run back into the trees. It was just as well because Wren glimpsed a sea of red eyes gathering in the forest, the dead rising again to finish their task. Oonagh’s army was back and waiting for her next command.

Shen arced around Wren, angling Night’s Edge at Oonagh. ‘You can’t control me,’ he roared with such anger, Wren hardly recognized him. ‘Let’s finish this!’

Oonagh shrieked in amusement. ‘Such arrogance!’ She brewed a gust between her hands and flung it at him like a boulder, knocking him back. Shen lost ground but kept his footing, coming at her again and again, until Oonagh tired of her own tricks.

The next time she called down the wind, it came like a hurricane, bending the trees as it swept over them. Rose was thrown backwards, where she landed in a heap in the long grass. Wren was rolled across the earth, over and over, spitting grass from her mouth. While Shen was the most seasoned warrior among them, he was no match for the ancient power of Oonagh Starcrest. She flicked him like a gnat, sending him back towards the forest where he lost his grip on Eana’s sword and slammed head first into a trunk.

When he came to, he crawled through the rising storm to Rose.

‘So, the desert king has made his choice,’ said Oonagh, as she stopped in the grass beside Wren. She looked down on her, pulling an exaggerated pout. ‘How sad it is to be rendered second best, but I have always found it to be a motivation for greatness.’ She plucked Wren from the grass by her hair and lifted her to her feet. ‘Or perhaps we should make a martyr of you instead,’she said, angling her dagger at her throat. ‘What do you think, dear puppet?’

‘Ithink you’re a hateful soulless creature who has far outlived her welcome on these shores!’ Rose burst out. She shook Shen off and started towards Oonagh, clutching Daybreak. This was her chance.

Wren felt the bite of Oonagh’s blade as it punctured her skin. ‘Keep talking,’ taunted Oonagh. ‘Every step pushes my blade deeper into your sister. You can kill her yourself.’

Rose froze. ‘What do you want from us?’ she shouted.

‘Well, now that you mention it, thereissomething I want—’ Oonagh stopped suddenly. She snapped her chin up, scenting the wind. At that same moment, Wren felt the curse jerk inside her, as if something – orsomeone– was tugging at her soul.

‘Ah,’ said Oonagh. ‘My other plaything has arrived.’

‘I hope I haven’t missed the tea party,’ came Alarik Felsing’s unmistakable drawl. ‘I’ve been meaning to jab a butter knife in your eye.’

Oonagh swung Wren around to find the king of Gevra standing on the edge of the cliff, looking worse than Wren had ever seen him. And that really was saying something. Yet, even despite his weakness, she could tell by the smudges of dirt on his cheeks and the grass stains on his trousers that somehow, Alarik Felsing had dragged himself up those cliffs.

Wren felt herself smile.

Alarik, for all his suffering, smiled back.

‘Oh, my bleeding heart,’ taunted Oonagh.

‘Careful,’ said Alarik. ‘You sound jealous.’

‘Yoube careful, little king,’ Oonagh shot back. ‘You are tied to me just as strongly as you are to her.’

Alarik cocked his head. ‘If that’s true then why do I like her and yet find myself wishing for your quick and painful demise?’

Oonagh cast Wren aside, relinquishing her grip on her mind. ‘You have no business on these shores. Why have you come here?’

Alarik dug his hands into his pockets. ‘I thought perhaps you might like to kill me.’

Wren’s heart dropped as Oonagh stilled, intrigued by his offer.

What the hell was Alarik doing?

‘I hear you’re into that kind of thing,’ he went on. ‘Mindless killing. Indiscriminate terror.’

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