Page 109 of Cursed Crowns
“Some things never change,” she said as she swung up on Storm’sback. She twisted to look at him one last time. “Be careful, Shen.”
“You, too,” he said, flashing his sun-bright smile. “Go and be the ruler I know you can be.”
He leaned in and whispered a command in Storm’s ear, and before Rose could say another word, the horse jolted into a gallop and carried her off into the roiling desert storm.
41
Wren
Wren wandered listlessly through the halls of Grinstad Palace, at a loss for what to do about Prince Ansel.
She perched on a windowsill on the first floor and looked out at a world spun from silver and white, mesmerized by the savage beauty of Gevra. Even the wind here was hostile, the roaring blizzard a beast all its own. In its lull, Wren swore she heard a distant shout. Elske bolted upright, her ears sliding back as she tried to trace the sound. Wren recognized it, too.
She pressed her forehead against the window and looked down on the snow-swept courtyard full of snow tigers and wolves. Tor stalked among them, his hands tucked behind his back. His high-collared fur coat might have staved off the worst of the chill, but he still looked like a madman, corralling those animals in the eye of a blizzard.
“What the hell is he doing out there?” muttered Wren. “The bloody fool will get frostbite.”
Elske released a low whine.
“Come on.” Wren set off for the courtyard, the wolf hurrying at her side. Down in the atrium, the glass dome was covered with a blanket of freshly fallen snow, hiding the evening sky beyond it. Some of thebeasts were pacing, nervous. The soldiers looked unsettled, too, like they were afraid the keening wind was a banshee that might come and snatch them away.
Wren had to shove her shoulder against the door to the courtyard and push with all her weight to get it to budge. When it finally flew open, the blizzard yanked her out by her sleeves and shoved her into a snowstorm so icy she had to fight for breath. Elske bounded out after her, weathering the drastic change in temperature with impressive grace.
Tor was still marching up and down the courtyard, commanding the singular attention of twelve untethered beasts. He raised his fist and they dropped to the floor like dominos. A short, sharp whistle brought them back to their feet, while a simple finger-snap sent them bulleting across the arena and back again. Watching him in his natural habitat made Wren momentarily forget about the blizzard. He was unerringly calm, fearless in the face of all those dripping fangs. Tor wielded his beasts with the same confidence as his sword, and they respected him for it. No, theylovedhim.
Wren drew her cloak tighter, her body railing against the fierce gale. Tor bristled at her approach, his chin raised as though he had caught her scent on the wind. Or perhaps it was Elske’s howl that made him turn around. “Wren?” he shouted, raising his hand to his brow. “Is that you?”
Wren waved back. “THERE’S SOMEONE HERE WHO REALLY WANTS TO SEE YOU!”
Tor turned back to his beasts and barked a command. They sprang up at once and trod back into their pen at the edge of courtyard. He released the stopper and pulled the gate down, sealing them in. Hecame toward Wren then, moving through the blizzard with unnatural ease. Elske bounded to meet him, and Tor melted around her like a puddle, nuzzling his face into her fur and pressing a kiss to her head.
Watching them, Wren melted a little, too. Then the wind picked up and pummeled her in the face. Tor was on his feet in an instant. He curled a strong arm around her waist, anchoring her body to his as he led them to a wooden hut on the other side of the courtyard.
“In here,” he huffed, guiding her inside. “This will keep you from blowing away.”
“Would that really be the worst thing?” muttered Wren, as she surveyed the creaking hut—the meager fireplace in the corner, the empty mugs of tea on the table—surmising that it was a place where soldiers came to rest. The foul weather must have chased them all back inside the palace.
The hut trembled as Wren sat down on a bench by the empty fireplace, wishing for a mug of tea of her own. Elske curled up at her feet, warming her toes. The air in here was laced with ice, but at least they were sheltered from the worst of the blizzard, and they no longer had to scream to be heard.
“What are you doing out in the storm?” said Wren, rubbing her hands together to keep warm. “You’ll catch your death.”
“The blizzard was frightening the beasts. Training distracts them.” Tor hunkered by the fireplace and stacked it with wood. “Believe it or not, I like the wildness of it. It’s the only time I can hear myself think. And it reminds me of home.”
“Sorry for ruining your peace, then.” Wren watched the muscles in his shoulders move under his coat as he built their fire.
“I looked for you earlier,” said Tor. “You weren’t in your bedroom.”
“I know. I was in Alarik’s.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“He came to collect Ansel,” said Wren quickly. What other reason could Torpossiblybe entertaining? “Now he’s holed up in the king’s wardrobe so he won’t be discovered.” She looked at her hands. “Alarik is furious with me.”
“Well,” said Tor with a sigh, “can you blame him?”
“Yes,” said Wren crisply. “The two of us did it together.” She watched the muscles in Tor’s neck tighten and went on. “I didn’t mean for Ansel to come back the way he did, Tor. If you believe nothing else, please believe that.” To her horror, her lips began to tremble. “I just wanted to make it better. For him. For Banba. Foryou.I thought... I thought—”
“I know what you thought.” He struck a piece of flint, blowing on the spark until the wood caught fire. “But some things can’t be undone, no matter how badly we wish they could be.” He looked at her over his shoulder, the storm in his eyes just as violent as the one pressing in on them from outside. “No one can turn back time. Not even you.”