Page 29 of Burning Crowns

‘I didn’t want to make a scene.’

‘How unlike you.’

Wren looked him up and down, noting the hollows in his cheeks and the circles under his eyes. ‘You look dreadful.’

He flashed his teeth. ‘If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d say the same thing to you.’

Tor cleared his throat, stepping into the space between them. ‘If you insist on greeting each other with these childish insults, can I suggest we do it below deck before you both freeze to death?’

‘Fine by me,’ said Wren.

Alarik pushed off the mast and stumbled. Tor lunged, catching him by the arm.

‘I’m all right,’ he snapped, shrugging him off. Alarik barged ahead, taking the stairs below deck. Wren didn’t miss the way he held tightly to the banister, or how, when he finally released it, he veered a little to the left. The king was unsteady on his feet.

‘Oh,’ she said, quietly.

Tor glanced back at her, and she understood that worried look in his eyes, then. And why Alarik wouldn’t cross the gangway to Marino’s ship. He couldn’t trust himself not to fall. They followed the king downstairs into the captain’s cabin, which was full of ornate furniture draped in lavish furs. Candlelight flickered along the walls, setting an eerie glow about the room.

Alarik collapsed in an armchair by the window. He looked exhausted already.

Wren perched against the dark-wood dining table, unsure where to put herself, while Tor stood with his back against the door, guarding their privacy. Wren looked around for Elske, but there was no sign of the wolf.

‘She’s in the galley,’ said Tor, reading her thoughts. ‘Hunting for scraps.’

‘You should feed her better, then.’

‘I always give her the best cut of meat.’

Wren looked back at him, catching his smile. ‘She’s lucky you have such a soft spot for her.’

Alarik was unusually quiet. He was looking out to sea, trying to hide his discomfort. Wren poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and brought it to him. ‘Here.’

He regarded the water as if it were poison.

‘I know you’re not well,’ said Wren. ‘Drink it.’

Alarik opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. He took the water, draining it in three gulps. ‘Thank you,’ he said, in a gruff voice.

Wren raised her eyebrows. With remarkable quickness, they had navigated the discomfort of seeing each other again and had arrived at civility. ‘You’re welcome.’

Looking brighter already, the king sat back in his chair and studied Wren. She fought the urge to tug her braid loose and hide her face. ‘It seems you are not well either.’

‘I’ve been better.’

Alarik cocked his head, still watching her. ‘I’ve been dreaming of you, Wren Greenrock.’

Wren saw Tor stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t tear her eyes from the king.

‘In pain,’ Alarik added. ‘You’re always in pain.’

Wren felt a curious twinge in her heart, as though Alarik had pricked it with a pin. They had gone through so much together back in Gevra and in many ways he had seen her more clearly these last few months than her own sister had. The thought of it made Wren want to cry. She bit down on her lip,waiting for the feeling to pass. ‘Yes,’ she said, quietly. ‘I’ve seen you, too.’

He didn’t look surprised by her revelation. He jerked his chin up, looking past her. ‘Iversen, can you give us a moment?’

Although it was phrased as a question, it was plainly an order and Tor didn’t look remotely pleased about it. He glanced between them, then turned on his heel, shutting the door behind him with a thud.

Alarik chuckled to himself. ‘It takes some work to break Captain Iversen’s composure.’

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