Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King #2)

by Rachel Gillig

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

“Pull your sleeves so the iron doesn’t sit directly on your wrists. I don’t want to give Elspeth any more bruises.”

Here. In the dark, on the shore. Where there was no sun, no moon. Where the mourning dove did not call at dawn and no owl announced dusk. A place of desolation—emptiness and despair. This is where his secrets were kept. And I was among them.