Page 121 of Cursed Crowns

45

Wren

Once the avalanche had run its course, and several of the front windows of Grinstad Palace had been smashed to oblivion, Wren and Alarik released each other. They had been huddling in the corner with their arms around each other, waiting—no,trembling—for ten endless minutes. Now it was simply a matter of dusting the snow from their shoulders and pretending that it hadn’t happened.

The shattered glass had nicked the king’s face, drawing a line of blood down his left cheek. He wiped it with his sleeve as he rolled to his feet. “This is unprecedented,” he muttered, surveying the damage. Snow had piled up everywhere, and there were icicles forming on the ceiling.

Outside the room, soldiers were shouting and running. Alarik snapped his chin up.

“Your mother,” said Wren, but he was already wading across the room. He heaved the door open, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “Go back to your bedroom.”

Wren ran for the dungeons instead, shouting for Banba, but was met by four stony-faced soldiers who swiftly turned her back. The dungeons at least had been unharmed by the snowdrift. They were buried so deep under the mountain that not even the wind could get to them.

Reluctantly, Wren returned to the upper floors. She walked the perimeter of the palace looking for Tor, but there was no sign of him anywhere. When she came across Inga, sopping and shivering after crawling out of the avalanche, the guard informed Wren that a group of soldiers had gone out into the mountains. But why she didn’t know.

Down in the atrium, the glass piano had been crushed by the snow, but Queen Valeska was safe, if a little shaken. Miraculously, the dome had held, and the blizzard outside had quietened enough for Wren to see the stars. It was a clear night. And yet the air felt heavy. Dark. It was as though the avalanche had left a lingering shadow behind. And though Wren couldn’t quite make it out, it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

Eventually, she returned to her bedchamber. It was at the back of the palace, which meant it was still intact, and someone had even thought to light a fresh fire in the grate. She crawled into bed and buried herself in a mountain of furs, trying to shut out the memory of the avalanche roaring through the palace, and Alarik’s arms around her as they had tried to survive it. Sleep found her quickly, but in the darkness of her dreams she saw that woman in the mountains again, the one who wore her face.

This time, she was laughing. Blood dripped from the corners of her mouth as she turned away from Wren and stalked toward the shattered windows of Grinstad Palace, bringing the howling wind with her.

Wren woke to the sound of banging. She sat bolt upright in bed just in time to see Tor poke his head around the door.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I thought you’d be awake by now.”

Wren glanced at the window, where the white sky was wincingly bright. It was well after sunrise. “So did I,” she croaked, as she threw the covers off and got out of bed. “Come in.”

Tor closed the door behind him and stood with his back against it. He looked like hell—his hair was a mess and his gray eyes were shot with red. His uniform was askew, the collar crumpled and his shirt untucked from his trousers.

“I take it you haven’t slept,” said Wren.

“Not a wink.” He stalked toward the fireplace, which was full of ash, and set about building a fire.

“Leave it,” said Wren.

“You’ll freeze.”

“I’m fine.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “I looked for you last night, but I couldn’t find you.”

Tor fell back on his heels to look up at her. “The avalanche disturbed the beasts. They scattered into the mountains. They were rabid.Terrified.Elske, too. I’ve never seen her like that before. Even after the snow settled, it was like there was something still chasing her.”

Wren wrung her hands. “Poor darling. Did you manage to wrangle the others?”

“Most of them,” he said grimly. “But this morning, I received word from my sister, Hela. The same thing is happening on Carrig. The animals are turning feral. My sisters are struggling to control them.”

“But Carrig is miles away from here,” said Wren, remembering what the soldier had told her about his home. “And it’s an island. How could they have been affected by the avalanche?”

“I don’t know.” Tor rubbed a hand across his jaw. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

That made two of them. But Wren didn’t say so as she paced the room, trying to gather her thoughts.

Tor set the fire alight, then stood to face her. “I have to go home. Fora week at least, maybe more.”

“Of course,” said Wren, trying to hide her disappointment. “You have to be with your sisters. They need you.”

Tor kept his gaze on hers. “Alarik has released me from service.”

“That was surprisingly good of him.”