Page 129 of Burning Crowns

‘That’s precisely the point,’ crowed Oonagh, stalking ahead to where the trees clustered around them again. ‘You see, the simple truth is, only two people must die today.’ She smirked at them over her shoulder. ‘Can you guess who those two people might be?’

Rose contemplated flinging Daybreak at the back of her head but she couldn’t risk letting go of Wren. Or missing. ‘Where are you taking us?’ she asked instead. The glowing seeds were following them through the trees.Rose sensed they wanted to help but they didn’t know how. Neither did she.

‘Haven’t you figured it out yet?’ taunted Oonagh. ‘We are going back to the very beginning.’

Rose frowned, glancing at Wren. She looked just as confused as Rose was. Oonagh called on her magic, dragging a howling wind through the forest. It drowned out the sound of its grief and scattered the glowing seeds. The trees bent backwards, clearing a pathway for them, and despite Rose’s hesitation, the gust quickened her steps, shoving both of them through the forest.

After what felt like forever, light began to filter through the trees. They had reached the other side of the Weeping Forest, where the setting sun painted the canopies amber and gold.

It was only then that Rose realized where they were going. Back to the beginning. Back to the grave of Ortha Starcrest, Oonagh’s twin sister. Back to the Mother Tree.

As they left the forest, Rose put her arm around Wren’s waist, touching her head lightly against her sister’s. Oonagh shoved them on, until all three of them stood before the Mother Tree. Only it didn’t look as it had before. Its mighty branches were drooping, its beautiful leaves all but shed, as though it had lost the strength to stand. Droplets of what looked like blood dripped from its skeleton and slid down the trunk, pooling on the ground below.

Oonagh tipped her head back, gazing up at the weeping tree. ‘My sister always had a bleeding heart. Some things never change. Even in death.’

Rose’s heart sank. Even the Mother Tree looked hopeless. Oonagh’s dark magic was destroying it, just as she would destroy Eana.She turned to Wren, seeing the same realization dawning in her sister’s eyes.

The Mother Tree was dying.

They had come to the end.

Wren

CHAPTER 45

Wren stared up at the dying Mother Tree and felt as if her heart was breaking in her chest. Grief was all around them. It rang in the battle cries of their soldiers and allies; it wept through the forest; it bled from the tree that marked Ortha Starcrest’s grave. And with it came a feeling of hopelessness that was so complete, Wren couldn’t see beyond it.

Even if she could find a measure of optimism or courage in this moment – this ending – she couldn’t act on it. Oonagh’s grip on her mind was as tight as ever. She had walked her through the forest like a puppet, making her gaze upon the dead – the soldiers who had fought alongside Wren at the Battle of Anadawn, the witches who had played with her on the sands of Ortha as a child. Bryony. Rowena. Elske. More losses than Wren cared to count.

And yet she knew deep down, with a certain harrowing clarity, that the worst was still to come.

‘Don’t mourn your fallen friends, little bird.’ Oonagh’s voice cut through Wren’s thoughts. She must have been listening in, feasting on her grief. ‘Once my spell is cast and the sacrifice is made, the witches of the Weeping Forest will rise again and march with me into the new world.’She pulled an exaggerated pout. ‘If you must mourn, save your tears for yourself. And for your sister. Your destiny ends here, just as my own sister’s did.’

Rose turned on Oonagh, giving voice to Wren’s horror. ‘Do you truly mean to make puppets of our ancestors? To bind them to you like your beasts?’

Oonagh flashed her bloodied teeth as her plan was laid bare in full, grotesque detail. ‘To garner the most powerful army, you must make the most powerful sacrifice.’ She looked between them. ‘And what could be more powerful than one queen?’

Rose refused to answer her, to play into her twisted game.

‘Twin queens!’ Oonagh cried, gleefully. She laid her hand against the bleeding trunk of the Mother Tree, looking up through its bare branches. ‘And here, upon my own sister’s grave, is the perfect place to cast such a spell.’

‘Of course,’ said Rose, her voice dripping with disdain. ‘Why not desecrate the memory of your sister – the kind of selfless and brave queenyoushould have strived to be – along with every other sacred grave you have already disturbed, not to mention the ones that belong to the forest.’

‘The witches of this forest will kiss my feet when I drag them from the afterlife,’ snarled Oonagh. ‘For too long this country has bent its knee to the will of mortals. Arrogant kings bloated on their own power. Weak-willed queens too frightened to restore this land to what it should have always been: a place of magic. A place for witches.’ She licked her lips, eager, greedy. ‘Only when I reclaim the throne of Anadawn will Eana’s descendants truly return to power. Every pathetic, quivering mortal will face a swift demise, their bodies cast into everlit bonfires, stoked by witches who bow to me.And it will be my great pleasure to watch them all burn away into nothing.’

Oonagh flung her torch at the Mother Tree, the trunk crackling as it burst into flame. The fire stole up the tree, hissing as it devoured its bleeding tears.

Rose brandished her finger and whether she meant it or not, a gust of wind stirred around her. ‘You can kill every last innocent person in this land and resurrect as many dead witches as you like, Oonagh, but know this: they will never bow to you. Not truly. You’ll go on living your pathetic soulless existence, hated by the very land you claim as your own, reviled by the witches you seek to control, until even the birds fly away from you.’

The wind grew, casting Rose’s hair skyward. In the spiral of her anger, she pulled the dagger from her bodice and leaped at Oonagh.

Oonagh lunged, catching Rose by the throat before she could make the killing blow. She knocked the knife aside, and it landed in the grass. The wind died out as Rose struggled for air. ‘Pathetic attempt!’ Oonagh spat. ‘For that, you will be the first to die.’

Wren stiffened at the sight of her sister’s distress. Oonagh might have rooted her to the spot, but as she watched Rose thrash helplessly in their ancestor’s grasp, something sparked inside Wren. A new heat rushed through her veins, rallying against the curse. For a moment, she felt as if her soul was expanding, as though it was reaching through her ribcage towards Rose.

Come on, Wren begged her body, her magic.Break free.

‘Time to die, little queen.’ Oonagh dragged Rose, kicking and screaming, towards the Mother Tree, where an inferno now raged.

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