Page 96 of Burning Crowns

Wren looked to his hand on the table and thought about reaching for it, offering him some measure of comfort.Takingsome measure of comfort. His fingers twitched as if he was thinking the same thing.

‘I’m sorry, Wren.’ He sighed, looking at her in a way he never had before. With sadness. With contrition. ‘About all of this. I know it all began with my wishes. My selfishness.’

Wren blinked. ‘Now you’re really scaring me.’

‘What?’ he said, brows raised. ‘We both know it to be true.’

‘Don’t do that.’ She threw a berry at him. ‘Don’t apologize.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’sweird. It’sdecent,’ she said, frowning. ‘And you’re …’

‘A monster?’

‘No. You’re … You’reAlarik.You’re supposed to keep me on my toes,’ she said, jabbing the air with her spoon. ‘And I’m supposed to keep you onyourtoes.’

‘And then when we stop dancing, we both die?’ he said, with a dark chuckle.

‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe.’

‘I’d much prefer if your ancestor died.’

‘That makes two of us.’

‘Threeof us,’ said Tor, marching into the dining hall with a face like thunder. Elske, who was padding behind him, looked just as unsettled. Tor was holding a letter. ‘I’ve just had word from Carrig.’

Wren frowned. Carrig was a small, frostbitten island off the coast of Gevra. It was home to wild beasts, snowy forests and Tor’s family.

Alarik was unmoved by the seriousness of Tor’s announcement.‘I hope it’s news of a new outpost, Iversen,’ he said, tossing him a withering look. ‘Since you’ll soon be finding yourself in need of a different vocation.’

Clearly stricken by whatever was written in his letter, Tor barely registered the threat. ‘My sister, Hela, sent her nighthawk across the Sunless Sea,’ he said, slamming the letter on to the table. ‘It found me while I was taking Elske out for a walk this morning.’

‘Impressive bird,’ muttered Wren, while Alarik picked up the letter. ‘I thought we were well hidden.’

Alarik scanned the missive, his frown sharpening with every line.

‘Oonagh has ripped through Carrig,’ said Tor, narrating the tense silence. ‘She upended the trees and ravaged the farms. She dug up our graveyards and went on a killing spree. Half of our animals are dead.’

Wren stiffened in her seat. ‘Hissing hell.’

‘And worse,’ he went on. ‘When Oonagh left, she wasn’t alone.’

‘What do you mean?’ Wren hinged forward, reaching for the letter.

It was Alarik who answered her. ‘She took the dead beasts with her.’

‘Her undead army grows by the hour,’ said Tor, grimly.

Wren inhaled sharply. In the silence that followed, she knew they were all thinking of that red-eyed mountain lion from the night before, and how it had come to them in the valley, bearing its rotting flesh and gleaming skull. Oonagh had an entire army of beasts just like that. ‘She’s out of control.’

‘No,’ said Tor. ‘She’s preparing for war.’

Alarik set down the letter. ‘The question is, where will she strike first?’

Wren was seized by a sudden sense of urgency. She knew exactly where her ancestor was going. After all, Oonagh had already told them. Rose had three bloody marks on her neck to prove it. ‘I have to get back to Anadawn.’

Alarik frowned. ‘So soon?’

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