Page 2 of Burning Crowns

It was good to be home. Even better than that, it was good to be home as queen. To know that she and Wren were making steps towards building the kind of country their people deserved. One that was prosperous and bountiful, and welcoming to all. One that was safe.

Rose stumbled on a tree root, her smile slipping. The morning breeze was cooler than she was expecting, and as she rubbed the chill from her arms, she regretted not bringing her shawl with her. The coldness in the air turned her thoughts. She had not forgotten the shared vision she and Wren had seen several weeks ago – that terrifying glimpse of their wicked ancestor Oonagh stalking through the wilds of Gevra.

The twins had not discussed it since, and Rose thanked the stars that she had not been plagued by any further visions. But on tour there had been times when she’d heard Wren cry out in her sleep or seen her wake suddenly, trembling. Rose knew in her heart that the safety she felt – for herself, for her sister, for their people – was only temporary. But, she reasoned with herself, there would always be something threatening them. There was no use in fretting about the unknown.

All she could do was prepare as best as she could. Fortify their army. Strengthen their relationships with their allies. Mend her own broken country. Show the people that she and Wren were rulers to be trusted, rulers who would do anything for Eana.

Because Eana was Rose’s own beating heart. She knew that her country was her purpose. And while she loved the trappings of being queen (her crown was divine, her wardrobe spectacular and her castle magnificent), most of all she loved that sense of purpose, of knowing that she and Wren would do anything to protect and defend their beloved kingdom.

The distant screech of a raven startled Rose from her thoughts. She had been so caught up in thinking about the future, and what dangers it might hold, that she had lost sight of the children playing through the trees. She shook her head, scolding herself. She would not let the spectre of Oonagh Starcrest ruin everything she had worked for.

As the young witches’ giddy laughter drifted across the orchard, Rose heard the unmistakable wail of an upset child.She picked up her skirts and hurried towards the sound. At the south end of the orchard, Tilda was standing with her back to the fence, looking sheepish. Next to her, Marie, a shy young witch, was snuffling as she held her reddened cheek. The others crowded around them, and Rose noted they all had plums in their hands.

‘What happened?’ said Rose, trying to untangle the upset.

‘She threw a plum at me!’ Marie pointed an accusing finger towards Tilda.

‘It was an accident,’ said Tilda, rolling her eyes. ‘I said catch. And she didn’t catch. What kind of witch can’t catch a plum?’

‘You used tempest magic!’ said Marie.

‘Of course I did! And you should have used your own magic to send it back to me. We told you that you were too little to play and now you’ve proved it,’ retorted Tilda, which only made Marie cry harder.

‘There, there,’ said Rose, kneeling next to Marie and rubbing her back. She offered a quick burst of healing magic to help mend the bruise blooming on her cheek. ‘We shouldn’t use our magic against each other.’ She gave Tilda a stern look. ‘Magic is for making things better, remember?’

‘What about warrior magic?’ said a young boy of around twelve. ‘That’s fighting magic.’

‘It’s protective magic,’ Rose corrected him. ‘You can use your warrior strand for all sorts of things other than fighting. It gives you better balance and agility, certainly better rhythm. Did you know that warrior witches make wonderful dancers?’

The boy harrumphed.

Rose sighed. ‘And you shouldn’t be throwing perfectly good plums anyway,’she said, returning her admonishing gaze to Tilda. ‘You know better than that.’

‘When is Shen coming back?’ said Tilda, petulantly.

‘I don’t know,’ Rose admitted. ‘He’s busy ruling the Sunkissed Kingdom, you know that.’

Tilda pouted, and Rose felt her heart go out to the child. She knew that Shen was Tilda’s favourite of all the witches, as he had been the one to teach her how to master her warrior strand. Rose didn’t blame her for missing Shen. Rose missed him, too.

‘He’s way more fun than you. So is Wren,’ Tilda said, folding her arms. One of the other children gasped at her rudeness. ‘Wren would never tell us to stop throwing plums. She’d throw them with us.’

Rose bit the inside of her cheek, trying to let the insult wash over her. Tilda was still a child, after all, and a particularly headstrong one. And as much as Rose hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong either. Wren would have been throwing plums harder and faster than anyone.

‘That may be,’ she said, calmly. ‘ButIcan tell you all that Cam has made the most delicious chocolate cake. And if you tell him that I sent you and bring him some of these lovely plums for him to make jam, I’m sure he’ll let you have a slice. Even before supper.’ She smiled as the children perked up in excitement. Even Marie seemed to have forgotten her upset. ‘You may say it is a royal decree from Queen Rose.’

‘Thank you, Queen Rose,’ said Tilda, who seemed to be regretting her earlier petulance.

‘And you must apologize to Marie,’ Rose added.

‘Sorry, Marie,’ said Tilda, crouching next to her. ‘Next time I’ll show you how to send the plum back to me, OK? I bet you’ll be able to hit me with them in no time!’

Rose groaned. ‘Tilda, that’s not at all what I meant.’ But Tilda wasn’t listening. She was taking Marie by the hand and running with her back to the palace.

‘Come on!’ she cried over her shoulder. ‘Let’s go and get some cake!’

‘You forgot the plums!’ Rose called after them, but they were already off and running, their laughter ringing through the air, plums and tears already forgotten.

Rose shook her head and smiled as she picked up a discarded plum. It was ripe and soft in her hands, and she had a sudden, irresistible urge to take a bite. She closed her lips around it, anticipating a burst of juicy sweetness, but as her teeth sank into the purple flesh, a sour taste filled her mouth.

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