Page 97 of Burning Crowns

‘Yes,’ said Wren, the truth of it rippling in her bones. She had less time than she’d thought. ‘We don’t have to find our way to Oonagh. She will find her way to us. War is coming to these shores, Alarik.’

‘Your magic is all but broken,’ he said, his voice hitching.

Tor wore the same worry on his face. ‘You can barely hold a sword.’

Wren didn’t argue with them. ‘Which is why Rose and I need all the help we can get.’ She swallowed her pride, fear quickening her words. ‘Gevra trains the strongest soldiers. It breeds the most fearsome beasts.’ She looked up at Tor. ‘Can you spare some?’

‘Iversen certainly can’t,’ said Alarik, icily. ‘It’s not his decision to make.’

Wren turned back to him. ‘I was asking both of you.’

‘Ask me, Wren.’ His eyes sparked as he leaned towards her. ‘Only me.’

She glared at him, sensing his power play and hating her part in it. It was not the place, nor the time. ‘This isn’t a game, Alarik.’

‘War is Gevra’s finest game.’ He offered her the ghost of a smile. ‘If I send you an army, what’s in it for me?’

Wren knew what she wanted him to say. What he wanted Tor to hear. A part of Alarik was back in that blizzard, still reaching for a moment that was lost to them both.

‘Our freedom,’ she said, leaning towards Alarik until the rest of the mountain fell away. ‘From illness and pain.’

He held her gaze. ‘And from each other.’

Wren sensed the storm in Tor’s eyes, noted the tension in his jaw.

‘Yes,’ she said to the king.

Alarik looked away, a shadow falling across his face. ‘Quite the bargain.’

It was not the answer he wanted, but it was the truest one she could give.

‘To break the bond, we have to kill Oonagh,’ she went on, repeating what Willa had told them. ‘It’s the only way we’ll survive. If she truly has her own army—’

‘Then we must have two,’ said Alarik, coming to the seriousness of the matter.

Three, thought Wren, hopefully. If Shen and the Sunkissed Kingdom witches joined their cause.

‘Very well,’ said Alarik. ‘If your ancestor wants a fight, then we’ll give her one.’

Wren could have thrown her arms around him just then, but instead, she smiled, full and bright and truly gracious. ‘Thank you, Alarik.’

The king blinked. ‘Yes … well … our fates are entwined, so it makes sense …’

‘It does,’ said Tor, breaking his silence.

Alarik shot him a warning glance. ‘That’s enough out of you, Iversen. I have yet to deal with your insubordination.’

‘While you’re doing that, I’ll gather my things.’ Wren moved her chair back. ‘I must ride south to Anadawn to ready our soldiers.’

Alarik pushed away his bowl. ‘And I must prepare to return to Gevra.’

‘No, you must not.’ They all looked up at the sound of a new voice. Willa was standing in the doorway to the dining hall.Wren didn’t know how long the Healer on High had been lingering there but by the fearful look on her face, she suspected she had heard the contents of the letter. ‘I’m afraid the king is too weak to make such a long journey. The further you stray from the mountains, the quicker your condition will deteriorate.’

‘I can sail well enough,’ said Alarik.

‘Perhaps,’ reasoned Willa. ‘But if you leave for Gevra you will not likely return.’

‘What do you expect me to do?’ he demanded. ‘Bathe under your mountain while I send my country to war?’

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