Page 33 of Burning Crowns

Rose took a closer look at the Gevran king. He was paler than he had been before and despite his arrogant demeanour, his eyes were glassy. There was something else different about him …

An all too familiar uneasiness prickled at Rose. It was as if her magic could sense the same wrongness in him she had found in Wren. But she needed to be sure. She strode over to him. ‘Let me see your wrist,’ she demanded.

Alarik folded his arms. ‘Hands to yourself, witch.’

‘Alarik,’ said Wren, with a long-suffering sigh. ‘She’s trying to help.’

‘We didn’t come here for her.’

Wren tossed him a warning look. ‘You came here because I told you to.’

Rose raised her brows at her sister’s overfamiliarity with King Alarik, but kept her thoughts to herself. There were far bigger things to worry about now.

‘Fine.’ Alarik rolled his sleeve up with exaggerated slowness. He stepped close to Rose, his voice low. ‘But do take care. I don’t wish to become idle gossip for your servants.’

‘You should have thought of that before you wore leather trousers to the Gevran feast,’ said Wren.

Captain Iversen coughed, stifling a laugh.

Rose turned the king’s wrist to confirm what she suspected. There it was – a jagged silver scar in the shape of a crescent. Alarik hissed as she brushed her finger against it. Rose stilled, gently prodding the mark with her magic. Her stomach lurched as the same darkness she had felt in Wren’s mark reared up against her. She withdrew her hand as if she’d been burned.

‘It is the very same,’ she said, her eyes darting back and forth between them. They wore a matching look of uncertainty, of fear.

‘That’s why we’re here,’ said Wren. ‘We need to talk to Thea.’

‘Wren, this isn’t solving your problem, it’s doubling it,’ said Rose, anxiously. ‘Alarik’s not even a witch.’

‘Does that matter?’ said Tor, stepping into their circle. ‘Whatever this mark is, they both need healing from it.’

Rose glanced at the towering soldier, her eyes narrowing. ‘Please don’t tell me that you also bear this mark.’

‘I do not,’ said Tor, stiffly.

‘Well, at least that’s one less thing to worry about,’ she muttered.

Alarik cleared his throat. ‘I realize we have significantly more important things to be discussing, but I must ask … Why is your garden such a mess? Did every tempest in Anadawn throw a tantrum at the same time?’ He gestured, unnecessarily, to the mass of charred and withered plants. ‘I remember it being in much better shape.’

‘I rememberyoubeing in much better shape,’ snapped Rose.

Wren was only now noticing the decimated garden. She pulled her arms around herself as she drifted towards the garden. ‘What happened here, Rose?’

Rose eyed Tor and Alarik, warily. ‘Perhaps we should go inside.’

‘You can trust them,’ said Wren, reading her hesitation.

‘Well, you can certainly trust Tor,’ said Alarik, drolly. ‘As you’ll recall, Captain Iversen is more loyal to your sister than his own crown.’

Tor bristled.

Wren glared at him. ‘Do you have to be like this?’

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Alarik, and Rose thought he looked regretful, then. ‘Being back here … in the place where Ansel died … It brings up bad memories. I’m sure you understand.’

‘You made the choice to return with Wren to Anadawn,’ said Rose. ‘So, I ask that you treat this place, and us, with the proper respect.’ Her voice softened. ‘You know I, too, cared for Ansel.’

Alarik held her gaze, and Rose saw a flicker of warmth in its coolness. A crack in the ice. ‘I’ll never forget what you did for him on the Sunless Sea. How you gave him peace.’

Rose’s eyes welled with unexpected tears, and in that moment, she decided Wren was right. Gevra had once been their ally,and they could be so again. Perhaps this meeting would prove fortuitous, after all.

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