Page 55 of Burning Crowns

Rose felt dizzy at the sight. She squeezed Celeste’s hand, drawing strength from her friend, who looked fit to storm the dais and throttle Shen. The horn sounded again, and the minstrels returned to their instruments, the beat of the drum soon echoing through the square.

‘And now it’s time to dance!’ cried the Master of Ceremonies.

Shen offered his hand to Princess Elladora and escorted her from the dais. They began to dance, and soon, the rest of the crowd joined in.

‘Ugh.’ Celeste wrinkled her nose. ‘What now? Do we go to war with Demarre?’

As Rose watched Shen spin Princess Elladora, she made a quick and crucial decision.

‘No. Now we find something suitable to wear, so that we may rise like glorious phoenixes from the ashes of this abominable evening and make Shen Lo rue the very moment he decided to take part in this ridiculous display of talent.’

‘Good,’ said Celeste, agreeing to the plan. ‘I’ve always thought that glamour and revenge go quite well together.’

‘Precisely.’ Rose pulled Celeste away from the crowd, making a beeline for the Palace of Eternal Sunlight. ‘Come. I know just where to go.’

Wren

CHAPTER 19

As the ground got steeper, they had no choice but to release the horses. Wren had only been trekking for a short time when the ground began to tremble. Tor reacted lightning fast, grabbing both her and Alarik and pulling them to the ground with him.

‘Earthquake,’ he said, frowning into the distance, as if he could see the source of it. The shaking stopped a moment later, and they rose uneasily to their feet.

Wren’s throat tightened. ‘That doesn’t usually happen here.’

Tor and Alarik exchanged a loaded glance but said no more about it. Wren knew they were all thinking the same thing. Oonagh’s power was growing, her reach extending towards Eana. Towards her.

They set off again, but as the afternoon sun arced over the rolling valley, Wren’s legs grew heavy. Her head, too. Tor and Alarik walked a way ahead of her, Elske padding companionably beside her master. While the soldier’s footsteps were strong and sure, Wren could see the king was struggling, like her. Alarik had begun to sway from side to side, as if he’d had too much wine, and he kept fiddling with his left sleeve. His scar was bothering him.

Elske looked over her shoulder at Wren, concern shining in her bright blue eyes.

‘Go on ahead, sweetling.’ Not wanting to make a fuss, Wren shooed the wolf on, then paused to lean against a boulder. She tipped her head back, letting the sun warm her face as she caught her breath.

Tor stopped walking.

‘I’m all right,’ she called. ‘I just need a minute.’

‘Good idea,’ said Alarik. ‘Let’s rest a while.’

Tor looked between them, a furrow appearing between his brows. Then he glanced up at the sun. Wren knew he was calculating how long they had been walking. An hour, maybe two. How long lay ahead of them? The Mishnick Mountains were still a distance away.

‘We should have brought the horses,’ said Tor.

‘It’s far too steep,’ said Wren, for the eleventh time. ‘They’d tire before us.’

Tor scrubbed a hand across his jaw, looking doubtful.

‘And anyway, it’s too late,’ added Wren.

Alarik laughed mirthlessly. ‘How pathetic we must look to you, Iversen.’ He looked as bad as Wren felt, his eyes bloodshot and his cheeks so pale they matched his hair. ‘Staggering about like a pair of sunstruck children. I think you might have to become our horse.’

Wren snorted, but Tor’s face was contemplative. She could tell he was calculating the weight of all the satchels, and then the people.

‘Carry her,’ said Alarik. ‘I can walk.’

Wren scowled. ‘So can I.’

Tor looked between them. ‘I should carry both of you.’

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