Page 6 of Burning Crowns

‘Well?’ Rowena prodded. ‘Where’s Wren?’

‘I don’t know. She disappeared when the fire tree went up in smoke.’

Rowena gaped at Rose. ‘And you’re just pretending like everything is fine? Like all that choking smoke was part of your little act?’

‘What would you have me do?’ Rose challenged her. ‘Cause a panic? Terrify everyone? No. I did what I needed to do.’

Rowena narrowed her eyes, and Rose knew she wasn’t imagining the wind picking up again. ‘And now you’re sending everyone on a fool’s errand looking for wildflowers? How isthathelpful?’

‘It’s far better than announcing I have no idea what just happenedorwhere Wren has gone!’ Rose’s voice came out shriller than she’d intended. She winced at the sound of her own panic. She forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply. ‘The enchantment was likely too big. It must have crumbled … or … something.’

Rowena scoffed. ‘That’s not how magic works. You would know that if you were a real witch.’

‘I am a real witch!’ Rose felt her temper rising. ‘Just because I didn’t grow up in Ortha doesn’t mean I’m not a witch.’

Behind them, Shen Lo chuckled. ‘I never thought I’d hear you claim your heritage so adamantly.’

‘This is not helping.’ Rose rubbed her temples. ‘Can we please focus on finding Wren?’ Just as she said it, she stepped on something hard. She looked down to find a piece of metal glowing dimly in the dark. ‘It’s Wren’s crown.’ Rose bent down to pick it up. ‘She must be around here somewhere.’

Shen suddenly went very still. His gaze sharpened as he scanned the shadows in the trees. ‘I think she’s in the woods.’

Relief flooded Rose. She had thought for a moment the worst: that something, or someone, had stolen Wren in the smoke. She picked up her skirts and stepped over the treeline, only pausing when she noticed Rowena was following them. ‘I think the bluebells are actually in that direction,’ she said, pointedly. ‘Back towards the lake.’

Rowena caught her meaning and glared at Rose. ‘Eat your bluebells, Valhart. I’ll go and find Tilda and make sure she doesn’t drown while searching for some pointless waterlily.’ She turned on her heel, raising a finger in warning. ‘Just make sure Wren is all right. It’s not like her to go missing like that.’

‘Of course,’ said Rose, brusquely, even though she knew it wasexactlylike Wren to disappear.

Wren

CHAPTER 5

Wren stumbled through the smoke, trying to outrun the shrillness of Oonagh Starcrest’s laugh, but the piercing sound echoed in her ears. She wasn’t sure which was more terrifying – the idea that her ancestor might be at Lake Carranam, or that she alone was hearing Oonagh’s voice in her head.

People jostled Wren as she ran, their screams joining the chorus of panic around them. Wren didn’t dare stop. Soon, the smoke would clear and they would all see their queen for what she really was – weak. Frightened. Tainted by forbidden blood magic.

She couldn’t let her people see her this way. She couldn’t let Rose see her this way.

Up ahead, the ancient trees that surrounded Lake Carranam swayed in the smoke. Wren made for the forest as nausea roiled in her gut. She tore her crown off and tossed it in the long grass, searching for some relief. None came. Her magic was twisting and writhing inside her, like an injured animal.

When she reached the first of the trees, she braced her hand against it. The bark was rough against her skin, grounding her.

Breathe, she told herself.

This feeling will pass.

After all, this wasn’t the first time her magic had acted up in the last three months. And it wasn’t the first time she had heard that awful, screeching laugh. She often dreamed of Oonagh, wandering through the snow-capped mountains of Gevra, smiling at her with blood in her teeth. Sometimes when she woke, Wren could still hear her ancestor’s voice in her head, taunting her.

You are tainted like me, broken bird.

There is no going back now.

Wren lumbered to the second tree and then the third. She wound her way deeper into the forest as the smoke cleared behind her. The screaming stopped. Somewhere in the distance, Rose’s voice filled the strained silence. Wren blew out a breath of relief. Her sister was taking charge, soothing their subjects with steady words, a careful laugh. Not for the first time, Wren thanked the stars for Rose. She was the queen that Eana truly deserved. Ever since Wren had returned from Gevra, she felt more and more like she was hanging on by her fingernails. Not just to the throne, but to herself.

After a moment, the laughter in Wren’s head began to fade. She became aware of her surroundings, the trees looming in the darkness, the solemn song of a nightingale perched somewhere overhead.

Wren was suddenly conscious of the pain flaring in her wrist. It felt as if her scar was on fire, as though a cattle brand had been seared into her skin and it was burning through flesh and bone.

She pitched forward, vomiting on the forest floor. The terrible heat remained.

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