Page 74 of Cursed Crowns

Inga’s silence was answer enough. Wren took it as a challenge. She sank onto the bench and kicked off her boots, deftly replacing them with the ice skates. They were a little snug, pinching her toes together, but they would do well enough.

She stood up, wobbling precariously as she trekked through the frosty grass.

Inga shot a hand out to help her.

“I can do it,” said Wren, waving it away. “It’s just like walking. Well, plodding really.”

“But the ice—”

“Will be conquered,” said Wren as she gingerly stepped out onto the frozen lake. “Don’t worry, Inga. I’m a fast learner.”

The soldier hmm’d, unconvinced. “Make sure to take your time. The ice can be tricky at first...”

But Wren was already gliding away from her. The ice hissed as her blades bit into it. She had to concentrate on not lifting her feet, pressing the nose of her skates down as she lengthened her strides, leaning one way, and then the other. She flung her arms out, teetering as she fought for balance.

“See?” she called over her shoulder, to where Inga was hovering at the edge of the pond. “I told you I’d be a natural!”

“Be careful of the middle!” Inga called back. “That’s where the ice is thinnest!”

“Don’t worry,” said Wren, making a poor attempt at a twirl and nearly face-planting on the ice. “I’m as light as a feather!”

She crouched a little as she quickened her strides, the ice crunching beneath her as she raced around the pond. The wind whipped her face, stealing the feeling from the tip of her nose, but Wren didn’t care. For the first time since she had set foot in Gevra, she felt free.

She twirled and fell, laughing as she dragged herself back to her feet. Her knees stung, but she ignored the pain, losing herself to theswish and crunchof each stride.

“That’s enough!” shouted Inga, after a while. “We must return to the palace!”

“One more lap!” said Wren, skating away from the soldier in case she tried to catch her. “I’m just getting the hang of it.”

She twirled again, her blades arcing in a perfect crescent. Wren whooped in triumph, then did another, and another, drifting ever closer to the middle of the lake. By the time the ice cracked beneath her, it was already too late. She looked down at the fissure spider-webbing around her, and then back at Inga.

The soldier froze, her face ashen.

“HELP!” screamed Wren, as the ice gave way. She stole one last breath as she plunged into the freezing water. The lake was so cold it paralyzed her—her legs went limp, then leaden, the skates like two weights around her ankles. She sank deeper into the glacial abyss, a single spot of light marking the hole through which she had fallen. It drifted farther and farther away, the bottom of the pond quickly rising to meet her.

With her lungs burning in her chest, Wren crouched against the silt and stone, and pushed herself off the bottom. She rose once more, straining for the surface, her hands out, as though to catch that single sliver of light. It was too far, and suddenly she was falling again.Flailing. She kicked out, fighting the heaviness of her own feet, desperately propelling herself toward the surface.

And then a hand found hers in the darkness. Strong and sure, it dragged her up, toward sunlight. Salvation.

Wren broke the surface in a shuddering gasp, her face covered in reams of sopping hair. The hands moved quickly, from her wrist to under her shoulders. She clawed at the ice as she was dragged back onto its glassy surface. They released her then, and she crouched, quivering, on all fours.

Through a tangle of hair, she could just make out a pair of black boots. She crawled toward them, terrified of falling again. They moved backwards, one step and then another, leading her away from the middle of the lake. Back to the edge, to safety.

Only when her fingers met frosty grass, did Wren fall back on her heels and peel the hair from her face.

Alarik Felsing stared down at her, his gaze as glaring as the sun above him. His hands were faintly blue, and the sleeves of his black coat were soaking wet. When he spoke, it was not to her. “I told you to take her for a walk, Inga, not drown her.”

“I did, Your Majesty. I tried, but she wanted to skate, and she fell, and then I—”

“You froze,” said Alarik crisply. “At a crucial moment.”

Wren stared at him, in utter disbelief. “Youpulled me out?”

He cocked his head. “Would you prefer that I left you down there?”

“No. I...” Wren shook her head. Her teeth were chattering awfully, and her mind had yet to thaw. “I’m... surprised, that’s all.”

“You made me a promise,” Alarik reminded her. “And I intend for you to keep it.”