Page 12 of Burning Crowns

Run, run, broken bird.

You cannot hide from me.

‘Hush!’ yelled Wren. ‘Leave me alone!’

She stumbled on, through snow so deep it reached her knees. The wind whipped her cheeks and stung her eyes, mocking her. Every breath was a struggle.

Dimly, Wren was aware that she must be dreaming but the cold was soreal.The panic was, too.

The scar on her arm began to burn. She fumbled with the buttons on her sleeve, rolling it up to her elbow. Her wrist was a deep,bubbling red, the silver crescent brighter than she’d ever seen it.

She let out a hiss of pain.

Oonagh’s laugh grew shriller. It soared on the rising wind, echoing through the mountain pass.

Wren grabbed a fistful of snow and smeared it across her wrist. It helped, but now she was even more aware of the blistering cold. She couldn’t feel her toes any more. She stumbled on, desperately looking for a way out.

The blizzard roared as it grew.

A shadow appeared up ahead. Wren frowned. In all the times she had found herself trapped in this nightmare over the last three months, she had always been alone.

‘Who’s there?’ she called out.

The shadow lurched, falling forward.

Wren charged, spurred on by the appearance of the figure. ‘Oonagh? Show yourself!’

Instinctively, her hand went to her hip, reaching for her dagger. But she was always weaponless in this place. The snow parted as Wren pushed through it.

Up ahead, the figure was on its knees.

‘Speak!’ she called out. ‘Who are you?’

The figure groaned.

Wren saw it then, a glimpse of blond hair streaked with an ink-black line.

She froze. ‘Alarik?’

The king of Gevra groaned again. ‘Help me.’

Wren came to her knees before him. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

In my nightmare.

In my mind.

With great effort, Alarik Felsing raised his head. His pale blue eyes were bloodshot,his skin so white he looked ill. ‘I was about to ask you the same thing,’ he said, through his teeth. ‘This ismyhell.’

‘This isn’t real,’ whispered Wren. ‘You’re not here.’

Alarik pitched forward. He fisted the snow, searching for breath. ‘It’s killing me,’ he heaved. ‘She’skilling me.’

The wind began to laugh again. The blizzard kicked up, spitting snow in Wren’s face. She reached for the king but the world was spinning, turning everything to bright blinding white. ‘Alarik?’

Far away, along the jagged mountaintops, there came a distant thud.

Thunk.

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