Chapter no 27 โ€“ Elm

Two Twisted Crowns (The Shepherd King, 2)

The King was five cups deep and fuming.

โ€œI told Filick where Iโ€™d be, and when Iโ€™d return.โ€ Elm leaned back in Hauthโ€™s chair, tensing as the wood groaned. He kept his face even, his fingers trailing the Scytheโ€™s velvet edge in his pocket. โ€œYou werenโ€™t worried about me, were you?โ€

He knew better than to poke the bearโ€”most of the time. Only now, the bear was too drunk to poke him back. โ€œYou missed the first feast,โ€ the King said, his voice a low rumble.

Elm looked out over the great hall. There wasnโ€™t a single thing in the wide, echoing room he regretting missing.

The scene was as it always was. Tables heaping with food, servants carrying trays stacked with silver and crystal goblets, decanters full of wine. Courtiers, laughing and swaying to a string ensemble, jaws slack with laughter. Branches and stems, leaves and seed clusters, tucked into their clothes and hairโ€”

Elmโ€™s gaze narrowed. He dragged it over the great hall once more. โ€œWhy on earth is everyone wearing greenery?โ€

The King muttered into his cup. โ€œBaldwynโ€™s notion.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t tell me these feasts are in costume.โ€ Elm put a hand to his brow and groaned. โ€œWhatโ€™s the theme? Shrubs?โ€

โ€œTheyโ€™re wearing sprigs from their house trees, you imbecile.โ€ The King

โ€”who wore no adornment save a permanent scowlโ€”pulled another deep drink. โ€œYou would know that had you attended last nightโ€™s feast and not

scurried away to Castle Yew.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™ve stripped me of my Destrier duties. I was bored.โ€

โ€œThen pick a bloody wife,โ€ the King spat. When heads turned, he pressed his lips together and lowered his voice. โ€œWhat do the Yews have to say?โ€

Elm took a drink. โ€œNot much.โ€ โ€œEmory?โ€

โ€œBetter now that heโ€™s at home where he should be.โ€

The King kept his eyes forward on the great hall. Elm had long ago stopped expecting remorse from his father for what he had planned to do with Emoryโ€™s blood. That clever, innocent boy. A boy Elm had watched grow up. Get sicker. Slowly die in Stone.

Elm had never caught the infection. But he knew all too well what it felt like to wither away at Stone. So when he had gone to Castle Yew last night, and there had been a thimbleโ€™s worth of warmth in Emoryโ€™s cheeks, he had all but kissed the boy.

Even without Ravyn and Jespyr present, Castle Yew was Elmโ€™s true home. The bed where he slept best. Where all his favorite books were kept. He spoke freely there, without pretense.

His aunt had wrapped him in her strong arms, and so had his uncle. They hadnโ€™t hugged him that tightly since he was a boy. โ€œItโ€™s all right,โ€ heโ€™d said. โ€œIโ€™m managing.โ€

Heโ€™d told them everything. About what had happened on the forest road.

The inquest. Ione and the Maiden Card and the Kingโ€™s feasts.

About becoming heir.

Heโ€™d reached into his satchel and pulled out the marriage contract with the Kingโ€™s seal. โ€œI need you to put this in a safe place.โ€

Fenirโ€™s eyes had widened. โ€œThis isโ€”โ€ โ€œYes.โ€

Morette had ran her gaze over the parchment. Twice. Elm knew sheโ€™d seen what he had. โ€œWell, nephew,โ€ sheโ€™d said, the corner of her mouth curling as she looked up at him. โ€œI hope you know what youโ€™re doing.โ€

โ€œSo do I.โ€

 

 

The sharpness in the Kingโ€™s green eyes was beginning to blur. Perfect. Better he was pliable, because Elm was going to do something he had never done before.

Barter with the King.

โ€œYouโ€™re wearing black,โ€ his father barked out of nowhere in a voice that might have belonged to one of his hounds. โ€œDonโ€™t you have any gold?โ€

โ€œI like black.โ€ Elm kept his eyes on the crowd, watching for the one person who was not yet there. โ€œIt suits me.โ€

The King finished his cup, raising a crude hand to the server, who came rushing back to refill it. Elm folded his hands on the table. โ€œIโ€™ve thought about what you said on the drawbridge. About being heir.โ€ He took a sip of wine. โ€œIโ€™d like it in writing. With your seal.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s already been drafted. Find Baldwyn to sign.โ€ โ€œHold on. I have a price.โ€

The King coughed. โ€œTrees, Renelm.โ€

โ€œThis issue of these ridiculous feasts. Of a wife.โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ the King said. โ€œI will not bend. The heir will marry.โ€

โ€œI didnโ€™t say I wouldnโ€™t marry,โ€ Elm bit back. โ€œBut Iโ€™d like your word that you will honor any contract I strike.โ€

โ€œDid you have someone in mind?โ€

โ€œNo one to whom you have not already given your seal of approval.โ€

The King searched the great hall, as if he were looking for a loophole. But everyone in attendance had come by his invitationโ€”selected for their property and wealth and all the things a sovereign might want for his heir.

The King ran a gnarled hand over his brow. โ€œVery well.โ€

Elm hid his smile in his wine cup. โ€œYou look relieved. I imagine you expected Iโ€™d give you more trouble.โ€

โ€œYou always have.โ€

Elm opened his mouth, a drop of venom on his tongue, but the gong rang, and he snapped it shut. Nine tolls. Nineโ€”and still no Ione. It dawned on him that maybe she would not come. He should have told her heโ€™d be absent at Castle Yewโ€”that he hadnโ€™t resigned their search for her Maiden Card just because sheโ€™d left him panting in the cellar.

He stood, his bow to the King barely a nod, and was out of the great hall in less than a minute. He took the stairs two at a time. When he got to the fourth landing, he heard a manโ€™s voice, echoing from above. It almost

sounded like Hauthโ€™s.

Linden.

He quickened his pace and reached the fifth landingโ€”the royal corridor. Royce Linden had Ioneโ€™s arm in his fist and was pulling her down the hallway. Ione said something Elm could not hear, and Lindenโ€™s shoulders went taut. His reached over and gripped her cheeks, fingers digging into her skinโ€”shouted into her face. โ€œTraitor.โ€

Elmโ€™s finger was on his Scythe in less than a breath. โ€œStand still, Destrier.โ€

Linden went rigid. When he saw Elm coming, a flinch crossed his face.

It made Elm feel powerful, watching the brute cower. It made him feel like Ravyn.

โ€œShe should not be wandering the castle without a guard,โ€ Linden gritted out. โ€œHad I not caught her creeping toward the gardens, she might have easily gone outside and disappeared into the mist.โ€ His jaw was rigid. โ€œThough I suppose it is no wonder, with you as her watchman, that she was able to slip away.โ€

โ€œTake your hand off of her.โ€

Lindenโ€™s fingers on Ioneโ€™s face went white with strain. Play strengthโ€” the worst kind of pageantryโ€”for there was no disobeying a Scythe. His hand went limp, and Ione pulled away, her gaze unreadable.

Flames licked up Elmโ€™s middle. But his voice remained calm. โ€œYouโ€™re not to go near her again.โ€

โ€œI take my orders fromโ€”โ€

โ€œOne more word, Destrier, and Iโ€™ll finish what began on Market Day and rip your face so far open not even the Spirit will recognize you. If you touch Miss Hawthorn again, by the fucking trees, Iโ€™ll end you.โ€ He ran his gaze over Lindenโ€™s scars. โ€œDo you understand?โ€

Hate boiled behind Lindenโ€™s eyes. It greeted Elm like a brother. โ€œYes,โ€ he said through tight lips.

โ€œYes, Highness.โ€ โ€œYes, Highness.โ€

Elmโ€™s anger wasnโ€™t spent. Not by a fraction. But, with a lazy wave of his hand, he released the Scythe. Linden stepped away, quickly disappearing down the stairs.

Only then did Elm dare to glance at Ione. โ€œHey, Hawthorn.โ€

She was watching him, her face without expression. โ€œThat was excessive.โ€

โ€œSorry.โ€ He rocked back on his heels, feeling wide open beneath her stare. โ€œWhy were you headed for the garden?โ€

โ€œWhy do you think, clever Prince?โ€

The pinprick of her voice found Elmโ€™s chest. She was angry, though the Maiden masked it well. It felt strange to Elm, liking that she was angry at him. Anger was better than nothing at all. โ€œIโ€™m sorry I havenโ€™t helped you search. I was away. Heir business.โ€

As quickly as it came, the prick in Ioneโ€™s voice was gone, her tone flattening. โ€œI assumed you were avoiding me.โ€

โ€œNot at all. I spent the night at Castle Yew.โ€ โ€œAnd that had nothing to do with me?โ€

To say no would be a lie. It had been about her. Just not for the reason she thought. โ€œYou think very highly of yourself, Hawthorn, if you imagine all my comings and goings concern you.โ€

A noise hummed in her throat. โ€œMaybe not your goings.โ€

Elm smiledโ€”ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. โ€œThat wicked mouth is going to get you into trouble.โ€

Ione turned away, her gray dress spilling behind her as she headed down the corridor. โ€œIf you say so.โ€

Elm followed her to a door with a hare carved into the frame. โ€œIโ€™m not inviting you in,โ€ she said at the threshold.

โ€œI didnโ€™t expect you to. I merely wished to note,โ€ he said, tapping a finger over the hare, โ€œwhat door to knock on in the morning.โ€

โ€œWhat for?โ€

โ€œWe keep up the search.โ€ Their eyes caught. Elm shoved his hands into his pockets, strangling the desire to touch her. โ€œThe Chalice didnโ€™t work. But there are other Cards that may help us find your Maiden.โ€

You'll Also Like