One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)(46)

“They do not mean for the High Priestess to present Mirabella’s lantern,” someone in the crowd mutters as Katharine returns to her place. But of course they do. Mirabella gets her lantern from Luca herself, along with a kiss on the forehead. The response from the poisoners is so strong that Katharine can nearly hear their teeth grinding.

Mirabella releases her wreath and, in true show-off fashion, uses her gift to push all three out into the harbor. As if it is a sign, the boats drop their cargo of lanterns until the entire cove glows. One of the nearest boats tows a small barge loaded with apples and bushels of wheat. It tows it out before the gathered crowd and cuts it free.

“The people of Rolanth bring an offering to honor the people of Wolf Spring,” Mirabella says. “To thank them for welcoming us into their city.”

Katharine pulls close the nearest servant. “Get my bow. Quickly. And the fire arrows.” The girl scarcely has time to nod before Katharine shoves her through the crowd.

“In Rolanth,” Mirabella goes on, “this is how we celebrate Midsummer. I hope the naturalists will allow us this sacrifice, in theirs and the Goddess’s honor.”

Heads turn toward a tough-looking, gray-haired woman with a crow on her shoulder. She must be Cait Milone, the head of the Milone family. Arsinoe’s fosters. Cait considers Mirabella’s request for several long, tense moments before finally giving her permission with a subtle lift of her chin. She is hard, that woman. Perhaps even harder than Natalia.

The people behind Katharine jostle and cluck as the servant girl returns with her long bow, threading it through bodies to get it to the queen.

“Very good.” Katharine smiles. “Thank you.”

“Kat,” Pietyr says out of the corner of his mouth. “What are you up to?” And then someone screams.

“Mira, she has a bow!”

Katharine rolls her eyes. It was that Westwood girl, the one who likes to play with fire.

At the scream, the crowd shudders and collectively ducks. The priestesses drag Luca out of the way, even as the doddering old fool struggles against them, and the stupid Westwood girl runs down the bank.

“Bree, no!” Mirabella cries.

Katharine puts her hand on her hip.

“‘Bree, no,’ indeed,” she says. “I only mean to help.” She steps to the center and turns toward the crowd. “My sister has put me to shame. I have brought no offering. But I can help her in the burning of hers.”

Katharine nocks the arrow and lights the head in the nearest lantern. The arrow burns prettily as she sights up into the darkening sky. When she draws back and shoots, it arcs out over the cove and strikes the barge dead center. The fire spreads, and the crowd aahs with relief. Many clap softly, and not only poisoners. High Priestess Luca scowls at Natalia, but when Katharine looks back, Natalia nods. Mirabella’s moment has been thoroughly stolen.

“This puts me in mind for something else,” Katharine says loudly, looking at her bow. “I know there is a great feast awaiting us in the square. But we are in Wolf Spring, are we not? Home of the naturalists?” People in the crowd nod, their eyes filled with reflected flames from the burning barge. Mirabella and the High Priestess shrink backward, but there is nowhere to go but into the sea.

“I have nothing to offer,” Katharine half-shouts. “No fine gifts. But I would still honor the naturalist queen.” Her eyes settle on Arsinoe, petting her bear. The creature looks confused. Nothing to be afraid of, the poor thing. “Before we sit down to feast together . . . I would have Queen Arsinoe lead her sisters on a hunt.”

Arsinoe’s stomach drops into her shoes. Everyone is cheering for Katharine’s challenge. Even her Wolf Spring people. The great, wild fools can never resist a hunt. And with her bear, they think she can win. They think the poisoner queen has made a fatal mistake.

Amid the poisoners, a handsome boy with pale blond hair whispers furiously into Katharine’s ear, and Natalia Arron and the Black Council shift on their feet. They did not plan this. But they cannot stop it now, and nor can the priestesses or the Westwoods.

It is a challenge from one of the queens. It is why they came.

Arsinoe stares straight ahead. She will not plead and make Cait and Ellis feel guilty when they cannot help. Soon enough, Cait’s strong voice cuts through the din.

“The hunt will commence in the northern woods, past the orchard. Make your queens ready.”

Out over the sea, the sun is setting. There is too much light left. Too much to be able to wait for cover of dark, when Arsinoe’s knowledge of the landscape could help her. She scans the crowd. Billy’s eyes are full, as though she is already dead. Luke is praying, probably thanking the Goddess for a sure victory. Arsinoe digs her fingers into Braddock’s fur.

“Jules,” she whispers. “Where are you?”





THE QUEENS’ HUNT





Arsinoe runs from the gathering at the cove. Braddock jogs by her side and butts her with his head, the impact hard enough to send her nearly sprawling. She leans down to quickly kiss his ears. The sweet bear thinks it is only play.

“Arsinoe!”

She turns. Billy lingers at the bottom of the hill. He cannot follow. If only they had a moment to talk, he would try to tell her what to do. He could find Jules and Joseph. Maybe act like a mainlander fool and make her angry enough to have a fighting chance.