Page 26 of Burning Crowns

That night, it took Rose a long time to fall asleep. Her dinner with Prince Felix had felt especially forced after their encounter in the library and his continuing strangeness throughout the day, and then when she’d finally been able to return to her bedroom, she found it unseasonably cold. Even with a roaring fire in the grate and an extra quilt, she couldn’t get warm. Wrapped in her blankets and still shivering, Rose found herself thinking of Shen, wishing he was here to warm her. The thought of his strong arms wrapped around her and his body pressed up against hers filled her with a welcome flurry of heat. It was just enough to lull her to sleep, where her last thoughts were of the Sunkissed king and his perfect, dimpled smile.

But Rose didn’t dream of Shen.

In the depths of her slumber, she found herself lost in a snow-swept tundra. The wind howled with an eerie laugh that felt both haunting and familiar. Rose stumbled through the snow, searching for a way out of her nightmare, only to find herself at the edge of an icy ravine.

A terrible wind whipped up, pressing cold hands against her back.They shoved her forward. She screamed as she fell down, down, down into the abyss …

Rose woke with a start, a hand pressed to her pounding heart.

It was only a dream, she told herself.A silly nightmare.

She curled her hands into the bottom of her nightgown, grounding herself in its softness. There was nothing to be frightened of now that she was awake.

Her teeth began to chatter, her quickened breaths hanging clouds in the air. The fire in the grate had gone out and her room was even colder than before. Her blankets were tangled around her feet. Rose sat up to reach them, and froze.

There was someone standing at the foot of her bed.

Rose bit back a scream.

‘Shen?’ she said quietly, hopefully. Perhaps she had summoned him with the strength of her desire.

The figure laughed. It was the same laugh from Rose’s dream. It did not belong to Shen.

Rose began to tremble. ‘I’m still dreaming,’ she whispered to herself. ‘This is a dream within a dream.’ She pinched her arm, hard. ‘Wake up,’ she said, desperately. ‘Please.’

The figure stopped laughing, the air growing so cold it turned the water pitcher to ice.

‘You are a gutless fool,’ said a low, mocking voice, and the sound of it scraped against Rose’s bones. ‘Just like my sister was. I have come for the other one, the one who thinks like me …’

Bile gathered in Rose’s throat as she realized who was talking to her. Somehow, Oonagh Starcrest was here. In her room. In her head. She tried to find her voice – to tell her to leave – but fear had frozen her stiff.She could only stare in horror at the looming shadow.

It must be a trick of magic. An apparition. A night terror.

The shadow kept speaking. ‘But you are the one in my palace soyouare the one who will heed my warning.’

Rose slowly pushed herself backwards, hitting the headboard. The shadow lunged. With lightning speed, Oonagh Starcrest scrambled across the bed until she was nose to nose with her.

Rose released a strangled cry. Wren had told her that Oonagh wore their face, but seeing it herself, so close and real andcruel, was a harrowing shock.

Oonagh’s eyes were cold. Empty.

‘Youare the weak one,’ she sneered, her mouth so close to Rose she could have kissed her. The stench of rot rolled off her breath, and for a moment, Rose thought she might be sick. ‘Look at you. You aren’t even fighting me.’

‘This is a dream,’ Rose whispered, a frightened tear sliding down her cheek. ‘It’s just a dream.’

‘Pathetic wilting flower,’ hissed Oonagh. ‘You know who I am. Do not deny me.’ Her hand shot out, grabbing Rose by the neck. ‘I will return in one moon’s time to take back what is mine. You and your sister will give me my crown and throne.’ Oonagh squeezed, choking the breath from Rose’s windpipe. ‘If you refuse, I will take Anadawn by bloody force.’ She spat the words with such disdain, flecks of spittle landed on Rose’s face. ‘And this country will face a war more brutal than any you could ever imagine.’

A vision suddenly crashed into Rose’s mind. Her people dying in a battlefield slick with blood. Children running and screaming, unable to find safe refuge in towns and villages consumed by flames. The land choking under great plumes of smoke,the dead rising from their graves, their teeth snapping like beasts as they ripped the living apart limb from limb.

Crops withered to dust – leaving behind barren fields of ash, all of Eana little more than a husk. And lording over it all, alone on the balcony of Anadawn Palace and laughing her terrible, screeching laugh, stood Oonagh. Power glowed in her eyes, growing with every drop of blood spilled, every death across the land.

Rose felt the terror of her dying kingdom as though it were her own, the agony of her people singing in her blood. She clawed at the blankets, a cry pouring from her as she tried to wrench herself free from this nightmare, this vision that felt so real, soclose.

‘Do you see?’ hissed Oonagh. ‘Your kingdom will crumble to ash, and I will rebuild it as I like. All of Eana will belong to me.’

The vision fell away, like ash in the wind, and Rose blinked to see her ancestor smiling before her, her teeth grey and rotting. But her eyes shone with that awful promise of power, and Rose knew this was no empty threat. ‘Do you understand?’ Oonagh added.

Rose locked eyes with her ancestor, her response coming on a trembling breath. ‘Yes.’

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