Twin Crowns (Twin Crowns, #1)

by Catherine Doyle

Her emerald gaze slid past Rose, to the man still standing over her. ‘Our souls will never die.’ Her final words were a faint rasp, but Rose swore the ground trembled as she spoke. ‘Some day, the witches will rise again and the rivers of Eana will run red with your blood.’ The Protector threw his head back and laughed, and before Rose could think better of it, she flung herself at him, ready to tear the sound from his throat. Her hands met nothing but air, and when she landed, her knees sang with pain. She looked up, not into the eyes of an evil man but the bough of a great and weeping tree. The Protector had disappeared. When she turned around, the body of Ortha Starcrest was gone, too, and Rose was alone again. It had been a memory, she realized with sickening relief. The worst one yet. She collapsed at the base of the Mother Tree and began to sob. For Ortha Starcrest and for her mother; for all the witches who might have lived if things had been different, fairer. Storm, who had been hovering nearby all along, returned to Rose’s side and gently nudged her shoulder, as if to say, It’s over.

‘When I get home, I will change everything in Eana,’ she whispered. And when I am Queen, I will rule in the name of all witches, under the banner of your legacy.’ With shaking limbs, she climbed back on to Storm, her heart burning with hatred for the man she had been taught to worship. He was no hero. He was nothing but an evil, hateful wretch who had killed ceaselessly and ruthlessly for power he could never truly own. As Rose set off across the rolling dunes of the Ganyeve Desert, she resolved to put all thoughts of the Protector behind her, but she couldn’t shake the memory of Ortha Starcrest’s face, nor the fear in those wide emerald eyes that looked so much like her own.

Rose pushed on, desperation quickening her footsteps. The trees began to sway, which was stranger still. There was no wind in the desert, no reprieve from this insipid heat. ‘Oh no.’ Her heart sank as realization set in. She had been fooled by a mirage. There was no glade, only her own eyes playing tricks on her. What a fool she was! Rose was so busy berating herself that she didn’t notice the sands trembling at her feet. She lost her footing and fell with a strangled yelp. When she tried to stand up again, she couldn’t find her balance. The dunes weren’t just shifting, they were whirling. Around and around they went, growing faster and deeper. Without warning, they began to pull her down, down, down … Rose opened her mouth to scream and sand poured into it. She flapped her arms, trying to break the surface, but she was caught in the desert tide, and the dune was a whirlpool now, determined to swallow her up. She gagged as the sand filled her nose, the last of her energy quickly ebbing away. She flung her hand out desperately, and just as the desert folded over her, she brushed against something solid. She grabbed on to it, twining her fingers in a familiar black mane. With a determined whinny, Storm pulled her from the jaws of the Ganyeve Desert. Her hooves were firm on the restless sand, her gait steady as she dragged Rose to safety. Back on the dunes, she coughed the sand from her lungs, and used the last morsel of her energy to clamber up on to the horse’s back. As the...

Tonight, while the noblemen and women of Eana danced and mingled with the Gevrans, she was going to slip away and deliver Rathborne’s death, swiftly and silently. A nation in mourning for their beloved Kingsbreath couldn’t possibly celebrate a royal wedding in two days’ time. There would be a funeral instead of a wedding, and as Alarik Felsing’s best-laid plans fell away, Wren would reinstate the coronation she was owed and seize control of Eana. Once she was Queen, with her fate and that of Eana resting firmly in the palm of her hand, there would be no alliance at all. She would send the Gevrans back to their sunless land with their feral king and frightening beasts.

The room twirled around Wren, again and again, and again. She glimpsed Tor standing stiff-backed by the wall, then Celeste with her head thrown back in laughter. She tried to get her attention but Anika was commanding every drop of it and Wren quickly found herself marooned in a dance that had far outpaced its musical accompaniment. ‘I’m feeling a bit dizzy,’ she said, trying to pull away. Alarik pretended not to hear her. He twirled her like a spinning top, Tor’s face giving way to Ansel’s. Then there was Celeste and Anika, laughing in blurs of blue and silver, and as they glided closer to the windows, Wren thought she caught a glimpse of something out in the gardens. A figure moving in the darkness. But … No. She spun away, sure she had imagined it. The incessant turning was toying with her mind. She was impossibly dizzy now and it was causing her to hallucinate. But then she saw it again. Wren tried to blink the face into focus. Was it her own reflection staring back at her? A trick of the lights or the frostfizz toying with her mind? Her stomach roiled as the world spun again, and a distant panic started to inch up her throat.

Wren quickly lost herself in the milling crowds, winding her way towards the dessert table, which was as far from the dance floor as she could get. She slumped into a chair by a tower of cupcakes and massaged her temples, trying to regain control of her senses. She looked to the windows, where the world outside was perfectly still. A sigh unfurled from her. ‘I knew I was seeing things.’ She started to laugh at her own absurdity … And then glimpsed that face again. Wren’s amusement died, quick and strangled, in her throat. She was sure of it this time – there was a figure moving in the bushes outside. ‘No,’ said Wren, rising to her feet. ‘It isn’t possible.’

Oh no

Out in the courtyard, she scoured the darkness. ‘I know you’re here!’ she hissed. ‘Come out before you get us both killed!’ There was a stretch of silence. And then a faint rustling. Wren stared in horror as Rose stepped out from behind a hydrangea bush. She raised her chin and glared at her sister in the moonlit dark. Wren glared right back, the same emerald-green eyes boring into each other. Rose was a world away from the princess she had been almost one moon ago. She was wearing a bedraggled tunic and her boots were falling apart. Her face was mussed with dirt and sand and sun-borne freckles, and her hair, now streaked with gold, was as tangled as a bird’s nest. It was Wren who shattered the silence. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing here?’ she demanded. Rose balled her fists, her face flashing with pure, undiluted fury. ‘I could ask you the same question.’ Then she leaped at her.

And with that, she swept into the palace and stepped back into her life.

Damn

Tor took another step. ‘Do you need help with … ?’ ‘My dress?’ Wren looked down at the loose ties. ‘I think I can do it.’ Another step. She heard the staccato of his breath in the silence. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. ‘What is it?’ she said, softly. But Tor couldn’t find the words. He reached for her and she went to him. And then they were kissing again. This time, they didn’t stop.

Rose raised her head and met the gaze of the man who had murdered her parents. The man who had raised her, had pretended to love her, had taught her how to cower and bend her whole life, not for Eana but for him. She wished for a knife to run into his heart. Be careful, she reminded herself. There was no sense in revealing what she had learned about Willem yet, nor the existence of her twin sister. Despite Wren’s betrayal, they shared a common enemy. She was more than just her sister. Wren was her ally.

Ansel’s personal guard had her sister pinned against the wall. And her sister looked as if she was very much enjoying it. No wonder he had acted so familiar with her in the courtyard! Rose had never seen anyone kiss like that – it looked as if they were trying to crawl into each other’s mouths. And he was shirtless. And there were books everywhere. And glass. And splintered wood. And giant, creeping roses!

‘I leave you for ten minutes and the next thing I know you’re undressing the enemy!’

‘Willem Rathborne is alive and well. He’s at the ball.’ Wren stared at her in horror. ‘What?’ Rose groaned as she sank into a matching chair. ‘Now what do we do?’ Wren buried her face in her hands. ‘I have no idea.’

Celeste jerked her chin towards Rose, who seemed just as surprised by the request as Wren was. ‘Promise you won’t use your magic against your sister either.’ Wren’s lips twisted. It was a bold request. After all, once Rathborne was out of the way and the Gevrans were sent packing, Rose would be the single biggest obstacle on her way to the throne. The way Celeste was staring at Wren made it clear she had already come to that same conclusion. She knew how badly Wren still wanted it, how meeting Rose – her own sister – hadn’t changed her ultimate goal. Rose turned to look at her. ‘Wren? Why are you hesitating?’ ‘I promise,’ said Wren, after a beat. ‘Of course I promise.’ Celeste blew out a breath, the fire in her gaze banked. For now. ‘Good. Now fill me in on everything.’ So they did. And together, the three of them began to plot.

‘There’s a woman in the west tower.’ Wren leaned out of the window, trying to get a better look at her. Her face was pale and gaunt, dwarfed by reams of cloudy white hair. Then it was gone again. ‘She warned me … the flames are inside me … the burning … ah …’ Rathborne’s words echoed in Wren’s head and she was reminded of him doubled over in pain after the poisoning. ‘She warned him,’ Wren murmured. She plucked the rest of his ramblings from her memory as a new horror dawned inside her. ‘The enemy wears two faces. We must come for the witches before they come for us … And they are coming.’ ‘What are you talking about?’ said Rose, in mounting alarm. ‘Oh no.’ Behind her, Celeste had already pieced it together. She came to the window, giving voice to Wren’s thoughts. ‘Willem’s got a seer.’ ‘It was never just the birds,’ said Wren, cursing her own stupidity. Somehow the Kingsbreath had done the impossible – he had got his grasping hands on a damned seer. ‘Someone’s been whispering to him about the future.’ Warning him, thought Wren, angrily. ‘No wonder he’s been so skittish.’

Within minutes, both girls were gone and Wren was alone again. She turned to the window, resting her elbows on the ledge. Outside, the flag of Eana was rippling in the summer breeze. When she was Queen, she would rip it down and restore Eana, the first witch queen, to the crest. This land would be ruled by her descendant and the halls of Anadawn would sing with magic once more. Freedom was coming at last and it would be granted by a Greenrock witch, born and raised on the sands of Ortha. Not a pampered Valhart who barely had a handle on her own magic. No matter how Wren’s plans had been altered by Rose’s return, her mission had not. ‘I’m so close now, Banba,’ she whispered to the wind. ‘I will not fail you.’ She closed her eyes and pictured herself sitting on the throne of Eana, surrounded by the witches. When she opened them again, Wren looked to the west tower and wondered if the seer saw that same future, too.

‘Bananas?’ Celeste arched an eyebrow. ‘What do you know of men’s bananas, Rose?’

just mean that my feelings for Shen are real. Really real.’ ‘And clearly delicious.’ ‘I just wish I’d kissed him when I had the chance.’ Rose pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to imagine what it would feel like – to be kissed for the first time in her life, by Shen, a man who moved like the night air and laughed like a song. ‘Well, maybe some day you’ll get the chance,’ said Celeste, encouragingly.

GASP

She was still laughing when she stepped into the stairwell, and was seized by a figure waiting in the darkness.

Uh oh

The rose garden was blessedly empty. Rose drifted into the heart of it and sank on to her favourite bench. For a luxurious moment, all was silent. And still. Then came a sudden whoosh from somewhere over her head, followed by a rippling breeze. The roses trembled. The bench groaned under a new weight. Rose whipped her head around. And found herself staring into Shen Lo’s night-dark eyes. ‘Hello, Princess. Miss me?’

OMGGG SHENNN

A man who does not possess full control of himself cannot be trusted, Tor.’

‘This time don’t think of the Kingsbreath. Your hatred will cloud your focus.’ ‘How did you know I was thinking of Rathborne’s stupid, sneering face?’ ‘Because I can read you like a book.’ ‘You can read?’ He gave her a hard look. ‘You’re all talk, witch.’

‘Forgive me for thinking there was something between us, Wren. I must have misread your moans.’

Tor’s parting words floated after her on the wind. ‘Be careful, witch.’ ‘I always am,’ muttered Wren, as she made her way back to the palace. ‘Because a careless witch is a dead witch,’ said Banba’s voice in her head.

‘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.’

DAMNNN

‘I came here to see you, Rose.’ ‘I’m still mad at you,’ she reminded him, but her voice was soft, and in his arms, so was she. ‘Forever.’ ‘How can I shorten such a cruel sentence?’ Be brave, she told herself. Be bold. After all, a future queen may never have a moment like this again. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘By being very, very nice to me.’ Shen’s hands came to her waist and the feeling of his touch on her bare skin sent lightning bolts sizzling through Rose’s veins. ‘I don’t know how to kiss,’ she blurted out, then winced. Oh, that was not at all what she meant to say. ‘I suspect you might be a natural.’ Shen leaned down close, closer, until their lips were almost touching, and then he paused. Rose held her breath. ‘I can’t kiss you without your permission. You are the princess, remember?’ She smiled against his lips. ‘Then I order you to kiss me, Shen.’ Shen’s mouth curved. ‘With pleasure, Princess Rose.’

The seer snapped her fingers away. She blinked, rapidly, as if only just seeing Wren for the first time. ‘Lillith’s girl,’ she rasped. ‘Not the princess. Not the flower. The bird. The bird that flew away.’ She scrabbled back from Wren. ‘I’ve been calling you. Sending my starcrests to find you.’ Her lips began to tremble. ‘You have brought the shadow of death to Anadawn.’ ‘You know who I am?’ Wren thought of the starcrests who had been following her since she arrived at Anadawn. ‘Who are you? How long have you been locked up here?’ ‘Too many years to count. Too many to remember.’

cold. Glenna. She hadn’t heard that name in many years, could never have imagined she would hear it here, at Anadawn. ‘You’re Banba’s sister,’ she breathed. ‘You’re alive.’ The seer shuddered. ‘During Lillith’s War, the Kingsbreath kidnapped me and brought me back to Anadawn. My birds flew after me but they could not protect me, could not save me from my fate. I thought he would kill me but he had something worse in store for me. He caged me like an animal, forced me to use my gifts against my own people.’ Wren’s heart lurched. ‘Oh, Glenna. You’ve been a prisoner here all this time?’ The old woman nodded. ‘He uses my visions to guide his decisions. Some I have tried to hide from him but others …’ She trailed off into a shudder. ‘He has found ways of making me talk.’

‘I’m here now, Glenna.’ She got up slowly so as not to startle the seer. ‘And I’m going to set you free.’ Glenna’s face darkened. ‘There is no future for me beyond this tower.’ She spread her arms, the blue veins catching in the moonlight. ‘Round and round the starcrests fly, painting your destiny in my sky. I have called you here to warn you of the curse I have seen in your stars.’ She padded towards Wren. ‘The world is tilting. Can’t you feel it, little bird?’ Wren took a step away from her.

‘Look,’ said Glenna, her gaze not on Wren’s face but at her feet. Wren looked down to find herself staring at a broken portrait. It was covered in dust and Glenna’s bare foot was obscuring half of it but Wren glimpsed what it beheld. A girl who looked just like her – the same emerald-green eyes and heart-shaped face. She was wearing the gilded crown of Eana on her head. ‘That is Ortha Starcrest,’ said Glenna, confirming her suspicion. ‘The last witch queen of Eana.’ ‘She looks just like me,’ whispered Wren. Ortha, the last-known true descendant of Eana, the first witch, wore the same face as Wren. She looked at Glenna, her voice trembling. ‘I don’t understand. Is this part of my destiny somehow?’ ‘Look again.’ Glenna lifted her foot and revealed the other half of the painting. Wren’s breath caught in her throat. There was a girl seated beside Ortha. Only her face was thinner and her lips were pursed, as if in disapproval. She was wearing a crown, too. ‘Twin queens,’ rasped the seer. Queens who looked just like Wren and Rose. ‘The twin’s curse.’ A terrible coldness trickled down Wren’s spine. ‘What are you talking about?’

Oh shit

‘The witches are rising in the west, Wren Greenrock. The rivers of Anadawn will run red with blood and an old curse will bloom, deep and ugly as a wound in the heart of the world.’ Her gaze turned milky and her voice suddenly sounded far away. ‘Beware the curse of Oonagh Starcrest, the lost witch queen. The curse runs in new blood. It lives in new bones.’ Wren tensed. ‘I don’t understand, Glenna. Tell me what happened to Oonagh.’ ‘Listen well,’ said the seer. ‘And I will tell you of the curse that haunts you.’ So, Glenna spoke and Wren listened to every single word. When it was done and the story of Oonagh Starcrest had been told in all its truth, Wren was silent. She let the tale sink into her blood and her bones, knowing somehow a part of it was already inside her. Then she pushed aside her horror and took the old woman’s hand. ‘We’ll worry about the curse later. I’m getting you out of here.’ She tugged her towards the door. ‘There’s a secret tunnel that will lead us straight to the river. There’s someone waiting for us by the mill.’

The seer crossed the room, flinging her finger back and forth. ‘Ortha and Oonagh! Oonagh and Ortha! The Starcrest sisters haunt this tower!’

‘Don’t you dare hurt her.’ Wren could tell her sister was battling to keep her voice calm but tears slipped freely down Rose’s cheeks and her blood stained hands were trembling. ‘I will deal with this matter privately after my wedding to Prince Ansel. Is that understood?’ The guards exchanged a dubious glance. ‘Very well, Princess.’ Rathborne shooed the soldiers away. ‘Go and lock this abomination in the dungeons.’ He glanced at the dead seer, his nose wrinkling in disgust. ‘And then dispose of this body. Feed it to the Gevran beasts if you like but I want it gone by first light. The smell of blood makes me sick.’ Wren was hauled into the dark stairwell. She left her sister standing in a pool of blood, with a look of such violence in her eyes, she hardly recognized her.

Moments later, Shen was sitting in the cell opposite hers. ‘That went well,’ said Wren, dryly. ‘Now what?’ He laid his forehead against the bars. ‘Now we wait for a miracle. Or our untimely death. Whichever comes first.’

When they reached the altar, Rathborne placed her hands in Ansel’s, which were even clammier than her own. The prince’s gaze roamed along her veil. ‘I might burst from anticipation, my flower,’ he whispered. ‘Even without a face, you are too lovely for words.’ Rathborne leaned towards Rose, and to all the guests it must have appeared as if he was giving her a fatherly kiss on the cheek. ‘Behave yourself,’ he hissed in her ear. Then he strode all the way back to the Vault’s entrance, where he stood like a sentinel, blocking the only way out. The harpist lifted her fingers from the strings and the music melted away. The keeper cleared his throat in a pointed squeak. ‘Today is a special day. We join not only two people, but country and country. And we do so by the grace of the Great Protector.’ He bowed his head, along with all the Eanan guests. The Gevrans did not bow. Nor did Rose. Instead she looked up. And as she did, she noticed a strange shadow flitting in the uppermost window.

The keeper moved behind the ceremonial plinth. And so, we begin with the chant of the Eternal Flame. For no true marriage can be blessed until—’ He was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. And then the cry of Wren’s voice, clear and ringing as a bell. ‘I OBJECT!’

OMGGG YESS

‘Guards!’ shouted Rathborne. ‘Kill this imposter at once!’ At the back of the Vault, six palace guards jolted into action. They drew their swords as they marched up the aisle, while four more inched around the side passages. Tor didn’t even blink. ‘Make sure to take her head from her shoulders!’ snarled Rathborne. ‘This witch is nothing but an evil enchanter sent to twist our thoughts and—’ ‘Liar!’ Rose ripped the veil off her face and marched to Wren’s side. ‘You have been lying to me my entire life! You have been lying to Eana for eighteen years and you have the nerve to stand here today, under the eyes of your precious Protector, and lie again!’

The crowd had fallen stone-silent, every pair of eyes now trained on the twins. The palace guards stalled, uncertain of what to do. Wren grabbed her sister’s hand, anchoring Rose as she came down on Willem Rathborne with the fury of a blazing inferno. ‘You killed our parents eighteen years ago. You poisoned my father in his bed and cut my mother’s throat! You blamed the witches and sent us all to war! I am sick of playing along in your twisted games. Sick of letting you control my every move, my every thought! My sister might be a witch but she is not a liar. She is as real as I am and her very existence is proof that you lied! The only imposter here is you!’

‘Perhaps we should have the witch instead of the princess.’ ‘Perhaps we should have both, brother,’ said Anika. ‘You foolish, addled child!’ Rathborne slashed his sword through the air as if to fell the truth of Rose’s words. He spoke not to her but to the entire congregation, grasping desperately for their trust. ‘That girl is nothing but a plotting, scheming witch! She has clearly wormed into your head and distorted your thoughts.’ ‘No!’ hissed Rose, taking a step towards him. Slowly, imperceptibly, Tor inched forward, too. If they weren’t in the middle of a reckless stand-off, Wren might have dropped her sword and kissed him right there in front of everyone. The palace guards hovered awkwardly, no longer sure of where to point their weapons.

‘Seize her, you doddering idiots!’ cried Rathborne. ‘You answer to the Kingsbreath!’ ‘I am your princess and first you will let me speak!’ Rose turned her face to the crowd, her voice arcing as she addressed all the courtiers and nobles of Eana. Although my coronation has yet to fall, I hope you will permit me this first act as Queen of Eana, in light of the truth that has been exposed today. Willem Rathborne has failed in his role as Kingsbreath in the worst way. Not only has he betrayed me by killing my parents and hiding the truth from me for all these years but he has betrayed this country, too. As such we must, as a people, relieve him of his duties at once.’

‘Willem Rathborne, I command your arrest for the murder of King Keir and Queen Lillith of Eana.’ She squeezed Wren’s hand but no one else in the Vault could tell she was trembling. Her face was placid and her voice was strong – it was, Wren realized with sudden surprise, the voice of a queen. ‘I command your arrest for the murder of thousands of witches in a senseless war of your own making.’ Rose raised her finger, and though she wielded no weapon but her anger, a deadly silence fell inside the Vault. ‘I command your arrest for plotting, even now, the destruction of the Ortha witches as well as the bartering of your own sovereign to a bloodthirsty nation against her will.’ Rose’s eyes flashed, green and furious. ‘Your time in power is over.’

‘These last few weeks have taught me more about myself than you ever have. I know now that I am a healer witch and I vow to heal this country from the wounds and division you have inflicted upon it.’ Silence, then. Row after row of shocked faces peered up at Rose as if they were only truly seeing her for the first time. Even Wren was lost for words. Her sister had found her courage and, though there had been no coronation here today and she wore no such crown on her head, she had become a queen before their eyes. Slowly and without fanfare, Rathborne lowered his sword. Are you quite done, Rose, darling?’ Rose glared at him. ‘Drop. It.’

The sword fell with a clatter. Wren kept her sword raised, her smile all malice. ‘I can’t wait to watch you hang from this Vault. Our justice will be your swift and bitter execution.’ Rathborne surprised her by laughing. It was a wild, manic sound that hiccoughed out of him. He flicked his wrist and a dagger slid into his palm.

‘After you, witch.’ He flung it straight at Wren. Wren froze as the blade hurtled towards her. Time seemed to slow, Rose’s terrified scream ringing in her ears. Then she felt the weight of something hard and fast barrelling into her as Tor grabbed her by the waist and knocked her sideways. They crashed to the floor, the blade sailing cleanly over their heads. There was a beat of silence. Then a blood-curdling shriek split the air in two as the dagger landed in Prince Ansel’s heart. The Gevran prince fell to his knees, hands grasping at nothing as crimson blood bloomed along his ivory doublet. He fell sideways with a resounding thud. And then, all at once, he was dead.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

Rose stared in horror at Prince Ansel’s body. Her hands were trembling violently, her wedding dress splattered with his blood. Chaos erupted around her, but she felt removed from it all. There was only Ansel lying at her feet, and her magic tingling to life inside her. She came to her knees and laid a hand against his cheek. ‘I’m here, Ansel. I’m going to help you.’ Ansel stared past her with lifeless eyes.

‘It’s going to be all right.’ Rose’s panic joined the buzz of her magic. She pressed her palms against his chest, her fingers connecting around the knife as she felt for a pulse. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, as Ansel’s blood seeped out through her fingers. ‘Come back to us,’ Rose murmured, over and over, like a chant. Her fingers thrummed with the heat of her magic. She was pouring every bit of her energy into the prince’s body, trying to rouse his sleeping heart, but she couldn’t tell if it was working. ‘Please, Ansel. Please come back.’

A hand closed around her arm. ‘Get off my brother,’ came a snarling voice from above. King Alarik stood over her, with bright, violent eyes. Rose tried to shake him off. ‘Let me go. I can help him! I can heal him!’ Alarik dragged her away from the dead prince, his soldiers swarming at his back. Tor pushed his way through. ‘Let her go to him, Alarik! Let her try.’ The king turned on his soldier with the icy rage of a blizzard. ‘You have done enough, Tor.’ He bared his teeth menacingly, but his voice cracked with the fissure of his grief. Ansel is dead because of you.’ ‘Move, all of you! GET OUT OF MY WAY!’ Princess Anika jostled her way through the gathering soldiers, wailing as she beheld her brother’s body. She yanked the knife from his chest, blood spurting on the marble floor as she raised it above her head.

‘Where is the imposter princess?’ she screeched. ‘I want blood. And I want it now.’ She pushed her way towards Tor. ‘Where is she? The one you saved over your own prince?’ She was brandishing the knife, wildly. ‘I’m going to drive the dagger meant for her into her heart!’ ‘No!’ cried Rose. ‘It’s not Wren’s fault! We never wanted this!’ Anika pointed the knife at her throat. ‘By killing our brother, Eana has declared war on the great nation of Gevra. Mark my words, Princess, we will bring you to your knees!’ ‘It was Rathborne! Where has he gone? We need to find—’ ‘Silence, you snake!’ Alarik shoved Rose at one of his soldiers. ‘Take this one to my ship and bind her arms. I’ve had enough of mind games and poisoned magic.’ He pulled Tor back. ‘You can bear my brother’s body. Make sure to protect it better than you did when he was alive.’ Alarik turned from the altar and glared out at the remaining guests, his voice solemn. ‘The wedding is off.’ He heaved a dramatic breath. ‘Now we are at war.’

Oh no

Shen gripped a weapon in each hand and brandished them at Rose’s two remaining captors. ‘Hands off the princess.’ He sharpened the blades against each other. ‘Or I’ll be forced to remove them myself.’ The Gevrans exchanged a panicked look as King Alarik came striding purposefully down the aisle. ‘And who are you supposed to be?’ he demanded. ‘Someone you wouldn’t want to meet alone on a dark night.’ Shen spun again, kicking the soldier holding Rose’s right elbow squarely in the chin. He crumpled at the king’s feet. ‘Or right here and now, as it turns out.’ The other soldier released Rose and took a careful step back. Rose collapsed against Shen’s chest as her own guards finally broke through.

‘Gevrans! Do not yield!’ roared Alarik. ‘He’s only one man!’ Shen smiled, blandly. ‘Actually, I’m a witch.’ Then he threw one of the swords directly at Alarik’s head. It skewered a branch on his crown, ripping it from his hair and carrying it across the altar, where the blade embedded itself in the ceremonial plinth. Alarik went deathly pale. He backed away, gingerly patting the top of his head. ‘Tor! TOR!’

Oh my god