Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King, #2)(6)

I blinked, sand in my eyelashes. “You...you are...”

When he looked my way, his yellow eyes tugged at my lost memory. “You’ll remember soon enough.” He glanced back at the dark, skyless horizon. “There is little else to do here but remember.”





My name was Elspeth Spindle, and I only knew it because he, Taxus, called me by it. I tested it out loud. It came out a slithering hiss. “Elspeth Spindle.”

Taxus was gone, though I hadn’t seen him leave. I turned my head both ways, searching for him, but he had left no footprints in the sand.

I looked out onto the water—ran my hands through sand until my skin was raw. My long hair was stringy with brine. I pulled a strand from my scalp and wrapped it around my finger so tightly my fingertip turned purple. I didn’t eat—didn’t sleep.

Time didn’t find me. Nothing did. And the nothingness was cavernous. When Taxus returned, looking down at me like he knew me, my brow twisted. “You’re wrong. I don’t remember who you are. I can’t—” I looked back out onto the water. “I can’t remember anything.”

“Shall I tell you the story?”

“What story?”

“Ours, dear one.”

I sat up straighter.

“There once was a girl,” he said, his voice slick, “clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King—a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two were the same: “The girl, the King, and the monster they became.”





Chapter Four

Ravyn





The Mirror Card’s chill no longer lingered on Ravyn’s skin. He was back at Stone, but he was not warm. The cold of the dungeon clawed its way up dark, icy stairs, seeking purchase in his chest.

He held two skeleton keys in his hand. When he paused at the top of the stairs, peering down, his grip on the keys tightened. He didn’t hear his sister approach. But what kind of Destrier would she be, if he had?

“Ravyn.”

He turned, hiding his startle behind a scowl. “Jes.”

Jespyr leaned against the corridor wall, blended well enough into shadow to almost render a Mirror Card unnecessary. Her gaze lowered to the skeleton keys in Ravyn’s clutch. “You’ll need another pair of hands to open that door.”

“I was going to find a guard.”

Something shifted in her brown eyes. “I’m capable enough.”

There was an accusation somewhere in the firm notes of Jespyr’s voice. Ravyn ignored it. “The King wants to see Els—” He flinched. “He wants to know about the Twin Alders Card. In private.”

Jespyr folded her hands in a net. “Is that wise?”

“Probably not.”

The sound of the gong echoed through the castle. Its toll announced early afternoon. Midday, midnight—the hour meant little to Ravyn. All he knew of time was that he always seemed to be running out of it.

Jespyr dragged her boot over a wrinkle in the corridor rug. “Are you well enough to do this? You’ve hardly spoken about what happened. About Elspeth.”

The muscles along Ravyn’s jaw tightened. “I’m fine.”

She shook her head. “I can always tell when you’re lying. Your eyes get this vacant look.”

“Maybe that’s because they are vacant.”

“You’d like everyone to think that, wouldn’t you?” Jespyr approached—pulled the second key from his grip. “You can talk to me, you know. I’m always here, Ravyn.” The corner of Jespyr’s lip quirked. “I’m always right behind you.”

They made it to the bottom of the stairs without slipping on ice. In the antechamber, the dungeon door waited. It was twice as wide as Ravyn’s wingspan. Forged of wood from rowan trees and fortified with iron, it took both skeleton keys to unlock.

Facing their respective locks on opposite sides of the door, Ravyn and Jespyr slid their keys into place. Ravyn made sure to turn his back, lest Jespyr see his trembling fingers.

The mechanisms embedded in the stone wall released the latches. Ravyn pressed his fingers in the holds and pushed the door open just wide enough to slip through, the weight of the ancient wood great.

“Leave it open,” he said, taking both keys. “Destriers will be here soon enough to collect Erik Spindle and Tyrn Hawthorn for their inquest.” He stepped through the door.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No. Get a Chalice Card from the armory. Meet me at the King’s chamber.”

“Are you sure you’re all right to do this?” Jespyr asked again.

Ravyn had been a liar always out of necessity, never a fondness for the craft. It was one of the many masks he wore. And he’d worn it so long that, even when he should take it off, he didn’t always know how.

He stole into darkness. “I’m fine.”





The air grew thinner the farther north he trod. The dungeon walk sloped, falling deeper into the earth. Ravyn wrapped his arms in his cloak and kept his eyes forward, afraid if he looked too closely at the empty cells, the ghosts of all the infected children who had died there might emerge from shadow and claim him.