Page 127 of Burning Crowns

‘Nothing I do is mindless,’ said Oonagh, coming towards him.

‘I can’t say I relate.’ He flashed a wolfish grin. ‘But then I am Gevran.’

‘I’ve never known a Gevran to go so willingly to their death,’ said Oonagh, flexing her fingers. Wren felt another gust rising.

‘He doesn’t mean it!’ she yelled, struggling to her feet. ‘It’s just a game!’

‘Perhaps I want to play it,’ said Oonagh, grabbing Alarik by the collar. She pulled him close, until they stood nose to nose along the edge of the cliff. Wren lost her breath. Oonagh could toss him over the cliffs. He wasn’t strong enough to stop her and by the expression on his face, it didn’t even seem as if he wanted to.

‘Alarik!’ Wren screamed, but the king didn’t look at her. ‘Stop this madness!’

She whirled around in a panic and caught sight of Rose and Shen stalking through the long grass, looking for Night’s Edge.Shen flicked his gaze to the cliffs, then raised a finger to his lips.

Understanding careened over Wren. She remembered the grey sails floating in the bay, the promise of the Gevran army hovering just out of reach. Until now it hadn’t occurred to her to wonder where on earth Alarik had come from or who he might have brought with him. And yet now, here he stood, making a distraction of himself … toying with Oonagh just as she liked to toy with them.

Alarik was buying time. He was not strong enough to fight with his sword, but words had never failed him. They were working, even now.

‘You do not look frightened.’ Oonagh scowled at the king. ‘Is it because I am wearing the face of your beloved?’

Alarik met her hateful gaze with cool indifference. ‘I’m not afraid, because in all the ways that matter, I am already dead. But you know that. Since this curse in me feeds from you, too.’

‘How morose you are,’ she sneered, as she lifted him from his feet. ‘Perhaps I will kill you to put you out of your misery.’

To Wren’s surprise, Alarik smiled. ‘Or,’ he said, as if a new idea was suddenly blooming in his mind, right here on the windswept edge of the world. ‘If you’re feeling ambitious, you could marry me.’

Oonagh barked a laugh. ‘What jest is this?’

Wren was so shocked by the suggestion, she almost laughed, too. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a hand appearing at the far edge of the cliffs, noted the cuff of its midnight-blue sleeve, trimmed in silver. The Gevrans had breached the cliff line and by the way Alarik was talking, he must have known it.

‘Gevrans never jest,’ he went on. ‘Release me from this wretched curse and I will bow to you, Oonagh Starcrest. I will worship you like no other. You will be my queen and together we will rule the great kingdoms of Gevra and Eana together.’ He offered her a conspiratorial smile. ‘And beyond, if you wish it.’

‘I need no man to rule,’ said Oonagh, though Wren swore she was wavering a little at the suggestion. Or at the very least, not killing him outright for it. Wren could tell she was tempted, not by the possibility of marriage but by the lure of the power it would grant her.

Alarik could sense it, too. ‘Then you can rule me, as well.’

Oonagh peeled her lips back. ‘Pretty words do not make promises. You are in love with the girl. I can smell it on you. I can sense the longing inside you.’

Wren flinched at the words. Alarik made little of them, as though they held no consequence for him.

‘You said it yourself,’ he said, smoothly. ‘You wear the same face as Wren. So, what difference is it to me? And you must know I’ve always admired ambition.’

‘Lies,’ said Oonagh, with a hiss.

‘Let me go and I’ll prove my intention,’ said Alarik. ‘Unless you are too frightened to conceive of an even greater future than what you had imagined for yourself.’

Oonagh snapped her hand away, dropping him along the cliff edge. For a moment, Alarik teetered on the brink of death. Wren could scarcely breathe. Even though she could sense the army sneaking over the cliffs, she couldn’t tear her gaze from the Gevran king. She was rooted in place by the fear of what he might do next.

What Oonagh might do to him.

And then, to her enduring surprise, Alarik knelt in the grass and lowered his head in deference. ‘My queen.’

Oonagh looked down at him, an entirely new smile spreading across her face. For a moment, she looked …triumphant.

Then a deafening roar shattered the moment.

Oonagh jerked her chin up just as Princess Anika came riding over the cliffs on the back of Borvil, the royal ice bear. The rest of the Gevran army came with her, the soldiers brandishing their swords while their beasts growled through bared teeth.

Oonagh let out her own roar of anger but by the time she turned again to face Alarik, he was already stumbling away from her. She drew her arm back, readying her dagger just as Elske appeared in a blur of white and barrelled straight into her. Tor leaped after the wolf, landing on Oonagh with the wild anger of a beast and pinning her to the ground.

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