One Dark Throne (Three Dark Crowns #2)(48)

Sealhead Cove is full of floating lit lanterns.

“Joseph,” Jules says, and grips the sill. They had fallen asleep, and slept too long.





THE QUEENS’ HUNT





Arsinoe stumbles farther and farther into the woods.

“Where do we go, Braddock?” She is already breathless from kicking through the heavy summer undergrowth. She looks around. The bent-over tree? Perhaps it would grant her luck. But it is not far enough. And besides, it has no loyalty, no reason to favor her above either of her sisters.

“There’s a thicket,” she pants. “Where the deer go.” Jules has taken her there. She turns right and left and momentarily panics, thinking she has somehow managed to get herself lost in her own trees.

A while ago, the hunting horn blew from Wolf Spring, the townsfolk’s way of telling her that at least one of her sisters has entered the woods. It is all the help she can hope for, and it seems an age has passed since the horn sounded.

Somewhere in the distance, leaves rustle and twigs crack underfoot. The sounds are far away but not quiet, chasing sounds rather than stalking. Arsinoe crouches and backs up, behind a large trunk. She motions for Braddock, and he comes to sniff her hands and see what she has.

“Stupid bear. You have to run, don’t you see? They’ll kill you if you don’t.” He blinks at her with calm bear eyes. As a great brown, he has not had to fear much, and though he can sense the fear in her, without the familiar-bond she cannot make him understand.

If only Jules would come. She must know, by now, what has happened. Unless they got to her. That thought settles like ice in Arsinoe’s stomach. If anyone has hurt Jules, Arsinoe will find a way to tear them to pieces.

“We can’t rest long, boy,” she says, and pats Braddock’s broad head. “We have to keep moving.”

“Up that tree,” Bree says, and points. The tree is tall, with many sprawling, climbable branches, and it is heavy with leaves. They mean to put Mirabella up it so she might see her sisters coming and burn them up with fire or bolts of lightning as they approach.

“They may never pass by this way,” Mirabella objects.

“Give me your cloak.” Elizabeth holds her hand out, and Mirabella takes it off so that Bree can help Elizabeth into it. “I will run decoy. I will find them and bring them right beneath you.”

“No! That is too dangerous. You cannot outrun a bear or dodge a poisoned arrow. We should stay together.”

“How long do you want to stay up in that tree?” Elizabeth asks. “This hunt will end only when one queen is dead.” She squares her shoulders. “Don’t worry about me, Mira. I may have only one hand, but my legs have never been stronger.”

“Take Bree with you, at least.”

Her friends look at each other reluctantly, but they know they will never get her to agree otherwise.

“All right, then,” Mirabella says. She turns and looks up. “I will need some help onto the first branches.”

Katharine and her riders are the last into the woods, but that does not bother her. She always intended to be the hunter, chasing her prey.

“The other queens have a strong lead,” Margaret Beaulin says, scanning the trees.

“We should have brought hounds,” says Bertrand Roman.

Katharine laughs.

“That would not have been very sporting.” Let her sisters run. They cannot run forever. And they cannot have gotten far on foot. She turns Half Moon in a prancing circle. He is as eager to be off as she is.

“Is it a waste of words to ask you to keep to the middle?” Pietyr asks, and Nicolas grins.

“Of course it is,” Katharine replies.

“A great brown bear can disembowel a running horse. Think of Half Moon, if you will not think of yourself.”

Katharine strokes the black gelding’s frothy neck.

“That bear will not touch us. And if you see it, try to take it alive.” She puts her heels to Half Moon’s sides and takes off down the path, not waiting to hear them argue. They act like taking the bear alive is an impossible task. But she had their weapons tipped specially with sleeping draught. A few cuts and arrows, and the beast should fall serenely to the ground.

“But it will not be that easy for you, sister,” Katharine whispers, and leans forward excitedly in the saddle.





WOLF SPRING





Jules and Joseph hurry past the docks toward the market with Camden running ahead, jumping onto crates and piles of rope, frustrated that they cannot leap and bound like she can.

“It’s practically dark.” Jules moans. “The feast’ll have started!”

“Arsinoe will understand.” Joseph falls behind, trying to button his shirt. Jules did not give him much time to dress before leaving the house. “And she’s safe. Everyone is with her. Madrigal and Ellis.”

“Madrigal! What good is she? None on a good day, and now less than that when she’s doubled over with baby sickness.”

“That baby is your little sister or brother.”

Jules looks back at him grudgingly. But Arsinoe is who matters now. Jules can just imagine how she will scowl when they slide in beside her at the feasting table. ‘What took you so long?’ she will say. ‘I didn’t have anyone to plug my ears during the Council speeches.’