Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King, #2)

by Rachel Gillig

But his soul carried on, buried deep in Elspeth Spindle, the only woman Ravyn had ever loved.

“Balance,” she answered, head tilting like a bird of prey. “To right terrible wrongs. To free Blunder from the Rowans.” Her yellow eyes narrowed, wicked and absolute. “To collect his due.”

There were not enough pages in all the books Elm had read, in all the libraries he’d wandered, in all the notebooks he’d scrawled, that could measure—denote or describe—just how beautiful she was.

“Someday. But first, I want a hundred years with you.”

“For even dead, I will not die. I am the shepherd of shadow. The phantom of the fright. The demon in the daydream. The nightmare in the night.” He lay upon soil at the foot of the stone. Bled his life’s blood. Did not stir.

“A hundred years,” he said to her, as if she were the

only one in the room. “I’ll love you for a hundred years—and an eternity after.” Ione didn’t wait for him to slip the ring over her finger. She threw her arms around him, kissed him unabashedly, earning a jubilant shout from Emory and many more tears from the rest of us.

And though it had taken slow, painful time, I knew who I was without him. I was more than the girl, the King, and the monster of Blunder’s dark, twisted tale. I was its author.