Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King, #2)(55)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Elspeth





The moment the Nightmare lost consciousness to the sweet smell of smoke, I was propelled deeper into his mind, his memories swaddling me once more.

I sat in the meadow beneath a starry sky, listening to the trees whisper.

Your people come to the wood. They ask for blessings. The Spirit is pleased, young King.

My hands were busy. I’d pulled nimble branches from a nearby willow tree and woven them into a small circle—and was now adorning it with mayweed and tansy. A flower crown for my sister Ayris. “But the blessings the Spirit gives,” I said to the trees, “the gifts that come with the fever—they always carry a price.”

Nothing is free, the trees replied.

“The magic she offers is degenerative. Some grow addled with it—or sick.” My fingers paused on the flower crown. “Surely there is another way for the people of Blunder to know her magic. A safer way.”

Nothing is free. Nothing is safe.

“Trees,” I said, my voice firmer. “The sword the Spirit gave me has been my crook. I have moved forests to make a bountiful kingdom—shepherded the land. Now it’s time for me to shepherd Blunder’s people. You are the Spirit’s eyes—her ears and mouth. You know her mind. Tell me, what must I do to make magic safer?”

The trees surrounding the meadow groaned. Go to the stone she left for you, they whispered. Drop blood.

I set the flower crown onto grass and hurried to the stone near the yew trees. I dragged my finger over the edge of my sword, wincing. When blood beaded to the surface, I held it over the stone, crimson droplets falling—once, twice, thrice.

A chasm opened in the stone, and the voices of trees echoed louder in my mind.

To bleed is the first step—drop your blood on the stone.

The next is to barter—match her price with your own.

The last is to bend—for magic does twist. You’ll lose your old self, like getting lost in a mist. The Spirit will guide you, but she keeps a long score. She’ll grant what you ask...

But you’ll always want more.

I swallowed. “I want a way to keep magic from degenerating. To heal the fever.”

The trees swayed. There will be a way. But there are many barters to make before that day comes.

I paused. “Then I want to be strong. Give me great strength.”

The wind picked up, smelling of salt. Bring a black horse from your stable, young Taxus.





My vision winked. It was another night. I was not in the meadow, but in a wood. I clutched my sword, the shepherd’s crook imprinting into my palms. My eyes had always been quick to adjust to darkness—I honed them on the wood, searching for movement.

When a shadow shifted beneath a juniper tree, a smile snaked over my mouth. The shadow grew to a plume of darkness.

And then I was upon him.

The clash of our swords echoed through the trees. Owls took to the sky, screeching in complaint. I paid them no mind and kept my focus on my combatant.

His steps were sure. With each blow, my teeth rattled. We parried through the wood, matching blow for blow. His sword hit my golden breastplate, and I sent my elbow into his jaw. He flinched, and it was all the time I needed. My foot swept his ankle. He fell with a curse, dropping his sword.

I stood above him, my smile widening. “Do you acquiesce?”

It was difficult to discern his features beneath the plume of darkness. But when he reached into his pocket, retrieving the source of the plume—a Black Horse Providence Card—and tapped it three times, I finally saw his face.

Young, handsome, with an angular brow. Even in the dark, I could see the green of his eyes. “You were right,” he said, studying the Black Horse in his hand. “This Card lends incredible strength. I might have snuck up on you and won—if you weren’t such an accomplished cheat and could see it by color.”

“Magic against magic.” I pulled him to his feet. “What’s unfair about that?”

We walked out of the wood together. When we reached my castle, he offered me back the Black Horse. “Thank you for another eventful training.”

“Keep the Card,” I said. “There are more. And I will make others that offer different magic. As providence would have it, I have a knack for bartering with the Spirit of the Wood.”

“And you’d give one of your precious Cards to a lowly guard?”

“No. But I would to the Captain of my Guard.”

His green eyes widened.

My laugh sounded into the night. “Magic isn’t just for those to whom the Spirit lends her favor.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Besides, you’ll need something to your name if you’re going to continue batting your eyes at my sister.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Ayris told you about us, then?” he said, rubbing his jaw.

“No. But I can read her well enough.” I titled my head to the side, hawklike. “Perhaps one day I’ll make a Card to read your mind, too, Brutus Rowan.”





Memories wove together, stringing me through time.

There were more Providence Cards. More colors—gold and white and gray—in my pocket. For each, I bled into the stone, and bartered with the Spirit of the Wood.