Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King #2)

by Rachel Gillig

“The steamy romance that emerges between Elspeth and Ravyn delights. Fans of Sarah J. Maas, Naomi Novik, and Hannah Whitten will want to check this out” Publishers Weekly

Hey thats me

To anyone who’s ever felt lost in a wood. There is a strange sort of finding in losing.

hope. I was the darkness and the darkness was me, and together we rolled with the tide, lulled toward a shore I could neither see nor hear. All was water—all was salt.

Ravyn’s

I love me an aaron warner copy

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.”

Ione stood in front of Elm, looking up at him with sharp hazel eyes. She reminded him of fresh parchment. Unblemished, full of promise.

i ship so hard

“There once was a girl,” he said, his voice slick, “clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King—a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two were the same: “The girl, the King, and the monster they became.”

“There is a place in the darkness she and I share. Think of it as a secluded shore along dark waters. A place I forged to hide things I’d rather forget. I went there from time to time in our eleven years together. To give Elspeth reprieve. And, most recently,” he added, tapping his fingernails on the wall, “to spare myself the particulars of her rather incomprehensible attachment to you.”

But wherever Hauth lingered, if he lingered at all, the King could not reach him. Nor could a Scythe command life into his unseeing green eyes. The skin that peeked out from bandages and blankets was cut and scabbed. And beneath the bandages— Hauth had been destroyed.

Good good.

“The last barter waits in a place with no time. A place of great sorrow and bloodshed and crime. No sword there can save you, no mask hide your face. You’ll return with the Twin Alders … “But you’ll never leave that place.”

Send him there rn

He glanced down. He hadn’t spoken much to Ione Hawthorn. Most of what he knew about her, Elm had gathered in glances—many of which had been stolen.

i shiiiiip

His yellow eyes softened. “Soon, my dear.”

Why is my brain js thinking THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA IS THERE INSIDE MY MIIIIIND

Ravyn took a deep, steadying breath. She will never leave this place, Elm. Either by the dungeon’s frost or the King’s command, she will die. He put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. Don’t be turned by her beauty. We’ve enough on our plate already. Elm’s smile did not touch his eyes. He rolled his shoulder, and Ravyn’s hand fell. Because you’ve never been turned by a beautiful woman, have you, Captain?

So elms not denying it..... I SHIIIIIIIIP BRO I SHIP SO HARD RN

The King’s eyes blazed. “You agreed to marry Hauth, knowing you’d be tethering him to a family that carried sickness? You disgust me.” “The disgust,” Ione said, her tone idle, “is mutual.”

Diva

“You did this?” Erik said, voice breaking. “You gave Elspeth up?” Tyrn’s face was turning red. “No more than you did.”

I mean fair point

“You’ll get your wish,” the King called after him. “When this is all over, I’m stripping you of command.” His words were coated in spite. “You’ve proven a wretched disappointment, Ravyn.” Ravyn lowered himself at the door, a final bow. “From you, Uncle, that is praise indeed.”

“She’s locked in, sire,” said the guard on his left, offering Elm a small brass key.

...i laughed (yk bc bros locked in...my brain is rotten to the core istg)

“There are not enough curse words in all the languages,” he muttered, “for me to answer that question.”

Me when maths

“The dark bird has three heads,” Emory said, his voice strangled, an invisible rope around his neck. “Highwayman, Destrier, and another. One of age, of birthright. Tell me, Ravyn Yew, after your long walk in my wood—do you finally know your name?”

Elm didn’t bother masking his annoyance at being compared to his father and brother. “I try not to use the Scythe for violence.” “Why not?” “To disappoint the hell out of them.”

“Neither Rowan nor Yew, but somewhere between. A pale tree in winter, neither red, gold, nor green. Black hides the bloodstain, forever his mark. Alone in the castle, Prince of the dark.”

“You will, Renelm. You’ll resign as Destrier. And you and Ione Hawthorn will pretend all is as it ever was, until I am ready to announce your succession. And her execution.”

Dont kill her i like her now

Elm rubbed his palms on his knees. “Ask me anything.” “How old are you?” “Twenty-two vexing years. And you?” “The same. Though I imagine my years were easier earned than yours.” Her gaze shifted over his black tunic, then back to his face.

Elm is like two or three yrs younger than ravyn and ione is two years older than elspeth SO RAVEN AND ELSPETH HAVE LIKE A FIVE YEAR DIFFERENCE HOLD UP-

Before she’d disappeared, entering Elspeth’s mind had felt like slipping into a storm. Chaotic, windblown. But the Nightmare’s mind was smooth, controlled, silent but for that strange, oily voice. Only now, that voice was screaming. Where are you, Elspeth? WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER ME?

The Nightmare lowered himself to a crouch, peered at the wound—the sludging, fetid blood. “How unfortunate,” he said with a sigh. “There is poison in the water.”

Bro are you fr

If you touch Miss Hawthorn again, by the fucking trees, I’ll end you.” He ran his gaze over Linden’s scars. “Do you understand?” Hate boiled behind Linden’s eyes. It greeted Elm like a brother. “Yes,” he said through tight lips. “Yes, Highness.” “Yes, Highness.”

“You think very highly of yourself, Hawthorn, if you imagine all my comings and goings concern you.” A noise hummed in her throat. “Maybe not your goings.”

Gal

But it cost her, little Tilly, to heal. Every time she did, her own body grew more frail. And so, for my next Providence Card, I asked the trees, the Spirit, for magic that healed. Magic that made its user as beautiful and unblemished as a pink rose—Tilly’s favorite flower.

The Nightmare’s yellow eyes burned, his voice sharpened by malice. “You are, without a doubt, the greatest disappointment in five hundred years, Ravyn Yew. Every time I glance your way, I find myself wishing I’d spent another century in the dark—that I’d spared myself the agony of your stony, witless incompetency.”

Ok buurn

Ravyn leaned close to Gorse’s mottling face. “Be wary, Destrier,” he ground out. “Be clever. Be good.” Then, with a final, brutal push— He crushed Gorse’s windpipe.

Uhhhhhhhhhb

“She’ll live. All I did was pay her back for breaking your nose.” “I didn’t ask you to do that.” “No. But Elspeth did.”

Elm’s back stiffened. “What’s happened?” “High Prince Hauth.” Dread. There was so much dread in the Physician’s eyes. “He’s awake.”

Nahhhh urgh can he just diee