Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King, #2)

by Rachel Gillig

Ione seemed to understand. “Tear it off,” she said. “Now.” Elm brought her bottom lip into his mouth. Pressed it with the tips of his teeth. “Beg me to.”

Who will be waiting on the other side when the mask slips away? Captain? Highwayman? Or beast yet unknown?”

“We keep going.” Forward. Always forward.

You are in no danger of losing me—your sister—your friends. There is no weakness in pain, Ravyn.

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

But I know as well as you that magic is the oldest paradox. The more power it gives you, the weaker you become.

“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.”

All he could think was that he was bleeding on the table where his parents ate breakfast.