Page 37 of Burning Crowns

Thea tightened her grip.

Wren’s knees buckled. ‘LET GO!’

But Thea would not.

Somewhere in the distance, Wren heard the thrum of footsteps. Someone was running to her, calling her name, but she couldn’t see beyond the pain. When her scar opened and the black smoke came, it wrenched a scream so agonizing from her that it scorched her throat.

This time, Thea cried out. She snapped her hand away and scrabbled backwards, like the smoke was a beast come to devour her. The second she let go, it rushed back inside Wren, taking the pain with it.

Wren collapsed in a heap, listening to the echoes of her scream die away. The ceiling blurred in and out of focus.

Then Tor’s face appeared above hers. He was pale as mountain snow, but his eyes were as dark as storm clouds. ‘Wren?’ he said, hoarsely.

Wren summoned a weak smile. ‘Well, that was embarrassing.’

‘Not to mention horrifying,’ croaked Alarik, from across the room. ‘What in freezing hellwasthat?’

It was Thea who answered them. She was sitting on the floor beside Wren. ‘That, Alarik Felsing, was a curse.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I’m afraid our worst fears have been confirmed.’

Wren closed her eyes, trying to hide her anguish as Thea went on. ‘The blood spell you cast on Prince Ansel must have twisted. It didn’t just curse the young prince. It cursed you, too.’ She looked to Alarik. ‘Both of you.’

The king swore under his breath.

Wren reached for Thea but the old healer looked frightened now. Of the curse. Of Wren. She wouldn’t take her hand. Wren’s eyes pricked with tears. Her own family was afraid of her. Now that she had glimpsed the thing inside her, she was afraid of herself.

Tor tried to help Wren up, but she pushed him away. ‘I’m all right. Help Thea.’

Wren staggered to her feet and made her way to her throne. Alarik watched her stumble towards him with the same haunted look on his face. When she sat down, he leaned over. ‘I take it back. Maybe this velvet isn’t so bad after all.’

Wren was too worried to laugh.

‘Speak plainly, healer,’ said Alarik. ‘Are we lost causes?’

Thea took a long time to answer. ‘There is another place you can try,’ she said at last. ‘The Mishnick Mountains in the north were once home to Eana, the first witch. Eana was the founder of this kingdom, the maker of this island.’ She looked to Wren, confirming what she already suspected. That true help waited far beyond the gates of Anadawn. ‘The waters there are blessed by the first witch,’ Thea went on, for Alarik’s benefit. ‘Their healing properties are unmatched. As is the magic of the Healer on High, who oversees the mountains and knows best their secrets … their power.If there is a way to break this curse, the Healer on High will know it.’

‘Just what I wanted to hear,’ muttered Alarik. ‘Another journey.’

‘When you reach the mountains, look for bloom and birdsong, and the opening will reveal itself to you. But you must go in secret.’ Thea’s gaze darkened and so, too, did her voice. ‘No one must know about the curse. It would threaten the very fabric of this kingdom.’ She turned on Alarik. ‘And yours.’

Alarik’s lips twisted as he tasted her words.

Wren turned to him. ‘What’s your answer?’

He frowned, seemingly weighing his response.

‘There is only one answer,’ said Tor, decisively. ‘If there’s a way to break this curse, then we will go to the ends of the earth to do it.’

Wren thought he was speaking for his king but when she looked up, he was staring at her. Worry strained the hard line of his jaw, and in his eyes she saw her own pain reflected back. She understood what he was saying. He would go to the ends of the earth for her. And she would go, too, so long as he was there.

‘Very well,’ said Alarik, giving in to reason.

‘Then it’s decided,’ said Wren, squaring herself to the task. Her face fell as something else occurred to her. ‘Ugh. Rose is going to hate this.’

Just then, the throne room doors creaked open, and Rose tiptoed in, struggling to balance a tray of macarons and several wobbly cups of tea.

‘Hate what?’ she said, brows furrowed in suspicion.

Alarik chuckled under his breath. ‘This honour is all yours, Wren.’

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