Twin Crowns (Twin Crowns, #1)

by Catherine Doyle

“When you break open the stone heart of Anadawn Palace and seize your rightful place on its throne, all the winds of Eana will sing your name. May the courage of the witches go with you, my little bird.”

“Calm down. I won’t tell your grandmother.” He swung his legs around and slipped soundlessly into the room. “You can be yourself with me.”

Healers, like Thea, used their own energy for their craft. Warriors, like Shen, were born light-footed and charged by the sun. Tempests, like Banba, weaved their storms from a strand of wind and cast infernos from a single spark of lightning, and Seers turned to the night sky for their visions—an open space to watch the starcrest birds cast patterns of the future among the stars—though that craft was so rare, Wren had never even met a seer in person.

Wren’s mother had been an enchanter. Wren had grown up hearing stories of Lillith Greenrock, a lowly palace gardener who had wandered into the king’s rose garden one day, and soon after that, into his heart.

And then there was Celeste. She was certainly in a panic! She would chase down Rose herself if given half the chance, and likely do a far better job of finding her, too. . . . But Rose couldn’t think about her best friend right now. Or Anadawn. She couldn’t afford to let herself fall apart. She had to stay focused and alert.

“Like calls to like.”

Willem Rathborne pushing her face into the muck under every new moon, studying her for even the barest flicker of reaction—of magic. When that didn’t work, he would pack the dirt between her chubby little fingers, closing her fists with his until her fingernails cracked, while the palace guards looked the other way. “It will be over soon, Rose, darling,” he would murmur, stroking her hair as she sobbed. “It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.” Each time, when it was over, Willem would let her plant a rose. One for every test she passed. One for every day she proved she was a Valhart.

“Now you truly have discovered the real me.” She flicked her braid, ignoring the unwelcome flicker of her self-consciousness. “Do you like what you see?” “Always,” said Tor. Wren bit back her smile. “You’re doing magic again.” There was a note of caution in his voice as he drifted into the orchard, his wolf padding softly at his side. “Show me.” “Say please.” He hunkered down beside Wren, and she was struck by the freshness of his alpine scent and the memory it conjured. She tried not to think of him shirtless in the library, crushing his lips against hers. “Please,” he said in a low rumble.

“Wren is my closest friend. I’ll always look out for her and I know she’ll do the same for me, but there’s no spark between us. There never has been. But you, Rose . . .” He paused, tilting her chin up so she was looking directly into his eyes. “You set me on fire.”

“I think it’s a bit late to worry about that.” Shen curled an arm around her waist. “You look beautiful, by the way. Is it bad luck to kiss the bride?” Without breaking her gaze he used his free hand to punch another advancing Gevran. “On second thought, I don’t care.” Then he dipped Rose and kissed her.

She trailed off, but Rose knew she was picturing those gray-sailed ships in her mind, the lone soldier standing out on deck. Without his wolf. Without her. Wren was already thinking about what lay beyond tomorrow, beyond the Sunless Sea.