Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King, #2)

by Rachel Gillig

“Elspeth Spindle,” he said quietly, his eyes—so strange and yellow—ensnaring me. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“The disgust,” Ione said, her tone idle, “is mutual.”

“I’d be your King, but always your servant. Never your keeper.”

It happened because, five hundred years ago, a boy wore a crown—had every abundance in the world—but always asked for MORE.

“Blood is the price to unite the Deck. To lift the mist and heal the infection. Your price. And I will gladly pay it. Gladly die. I’ve been dying piece by piece since Emory grew sick.” His throat constricted. “I have died tenfold since Elspeth disappeared. And now your mist has claimed my sister. So do not speak to me of cost, Spirit.” His eyes fell to the Twin Alders in her claw. “I am leaving here with that Card. Or I am not leaving at all.”

‘Magic sways, like salt water on a tide. I believe the Spirit is the moon, commanding the tide. She pulls us in, but also sets us free. She is neither good nor evil. She is magic—balance. Eternal.’”

“A hundred years,”

“I’ll love you for a hundred years—and an eternity after.”