Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King, #2)

by Rachel Gillig

The Nightmare slowed his pace. When he looked back at Elm, his voice drifted in the air, oil and honey and poison. “Neither Rowan nor Yew, but somewhere between. A pale tree in winter, neither red, gold, nor green. Black hides the bloodstain, forever his mark. Alone in the castle, Prince of the dark.”

It was a test, honed by his blood—a trick of the Spirit of the Wood. To fortify him— Or to drown him. Ravyn flailed in the water. Lungs burning, he aimed a kick at the highwayman’s face and wrenched away. The weight of his clothes, his blades, was enormous. But he was strong. He’d never had a choice but to be strong.

Tightness fisted Elm’s chest. “I’d be your King, but always your servant. Never your keeper.” He arched up, dragging his knuckles down her chin, making her lips part for him. “Think about it, Hawthorn.” When she spoke, her voice was full of air. “I don’t want to think right now, Elm.” He reached into her hair and pulled the pin out. Yellow-gold waves fell down her back. Elm wrapped it around his fist like a bandage. “Then don’t.”

The Nightmare laughed, wicked and infinite. “Fool. I’m not going to kill your brother.” He opened his arms, a beckoning—and a promise. “I’m going to crown him.” He looked over his shoulder, waiting once more. “Neither Rowan nor Yew, but somewhere between. A pale tree in winter, neither red, gold, nor green. Black hides the bloodstain, but washes the realm. First of his name—King of the Elms.”