Cursed Crowns by Catherine Doyle

Author:Catherine Doyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

29

Wren

The day after Alarik had pulled Wren, sopping and shivering, from the lake at Grinstad Palace, he sent for her, just as he had promised. After breakfast, Wren was marched through the icy catacombs once more. The mountain creaked overhead, still trying to shake off the deluge of snow as the tunnels grew dark and narrow, winding ever deeper into the earth. And then Alarik was before her, his hands tucked idly behind his back. The king was dressed in black again, his bright eyes shining like diamonds in the dark. His wolves sat on either side of him, watching Wren approach with the same keenness.

“Any frostbite?” said Alarik by way of greeting.

Wren smiled tightly. “Who needs all their toes anyway?”

He surrendered a rare chuckle. “I trust you got my gift the other night.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ve always wanted a bouquet of dead mice.”

“And people say I’m not thoughtful.”

Wren snorted. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Did you find our furry little friends helpful?” There was that hunger again—so quick, Wren almost missed it. Alarik was hopeful, even desperate. He wanted this to work just as badly as Wren. Maybe more.

They were standing on either side of the wooden door that led to Ansel’s corpse, surrounded by the king’s soldiers and, of course, his beasts. Wren was relieved not to see Tor lingering in the shadows. She didn’t want to worry about his disapproval when she was already worrying about her spell—and what would come after if she succeeded. Or worse—if she failed.

The king was staring at her.

Wren realized she had forgotten to answer him. “Very helpful,” she said, thinking of the mouse back in her bedroom, still alive and thriving. “Though I wouldn’t mind a little more freedom.”

“Why? So you can drown yourself in my lake again?”

Wren glared at him. “That was an accident.”

“What need have you of more freedom? Don’t I feed you well?” he countered. “My cook offers you the same food that I eat.” He gestured to her expensive dress, then the decadent cloak tied around her neck. “Aren’t you wearing the finest garments Gevra has to offer?”

“Just as I am constantly being stalked by its finest soldiers.” Wren pointed to Inga, who was hovering over her shoulder. She had become much stricter since the unfortunate incident at the lake, refusing to make conversation with Wren, and balking at the mere suggestion of going for another walk. “And locked away in my room, with nothing and no one to entertain me.”

Alarik pretended to pout. “Shall I send you a wolf for company?”

“I’d prefer the key to my door.”

“You have to earn it, witch,” he said, laying his hand against the door. “Here is your chance.”

Alarik opened the door and stepped through it, holding it ajar for her. She summoned a breath of courage and stepped inside after him, leaving the soldiers and their beasts to wait for them outside.

The chamber that held Prince Ansel’s body was even colder than Wren remembered. She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting the shiver that rattled down her spine.

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