Three Dark Crowns

Three dark queens Are born in a glen, Sweet little triplets Will never be friends Three dark sisters All fair to be seen, Two to devour And one to be Queen

I want revenge." She whispers, and her fingers trail bloody streaks down Natalia's arms. "And then I want my crown.

Every gift is light and dark.

No one really wishes to be a queen.

Her whole life they have thought her a failure, yet at the first hint of hope, they move to follow her, as if it is what they wanted all along. Perhaps it was.

It would be sweet to be cared for despite her faults, and to be wanted for her person rather than the power she comes with.

Only a king-consort is fool enough to love a queen, he says quietly.

In her mind, every last Queen lies at the bottom of the sea, drowned by the Goddess the moment she was done with them.

I am your servant," he answers, and touches her cheek. "I am your slave. I am here to make sure every one of the suitors does not think of either of your sisters before they think of you.

That’s what they call you, on the mainland. Witches. That’s what my father says that you are. Monsters. Beasts. But you are not a monster.” “No,” she says quietly. “And neither are the rest

I saved you,' she says. 'I will not let you die.' She kisses him hungrily, her touch waking him up, pulling him out of the dark. He feels like he belongs in her arms. She will not let him die. She will make them both warm. She will set them both on fire.

Only a king consort is fool enough to love a queen

The sisters she loved at the Black Cottage are gone. Arsinoe saw her chance and she took it. So next time, Mirabella will take hers aswell.

His eyes, when they meet hers, are like the storm. Perhaps he is not a boy at all, but some elemental thing, made by the crashing water and the endless thunder.

I should think that is what anyone would wish- to be loved for themselves and not their position.

It was only a joke, Mia,” says Bree gently. “Of course I do not wish that. No one really wishes to be queen.

For it is too cruel otherwise, to force a queen to kill that which she loves. Her own sisters. And for her to see that which she loves come at her door like wolves, seeking her head.” When

Whatever wind fails to escape the Volroy through its many upstairs windows falls down into the cells to rot.

I don't think it is strange at all,' Arsinoe says. 'Don't you see? It has to be one of us. It has to be her. My whole life I have heard that it has to be her. That I have to die, so that she can lead. That I do not matter, because she's here.

It will not be easy for him to see her dead, should they become close. But she has so few friends. She cannot turn one away.

But Jules will not give up. Not even if it is the queens' sixteenth birthday, and Beltane is in four months' time, falling like a shadow.

If she dis her letter opener into her brandy, she can stab him in the neck. It will be a race to see whether he dies of the poison or the blood loss.

One kiss leads to more. They will have so little of each other, they must take what they can.

Queen Mirabella stands at the altar of the Goddess. Sweating, but not from heat. Elementals are not bothered much by temperature, and if they were, no one inside could complain of being warm.

How she poisoned her sisters so slyly and quietly that it took them days to die. How when it was over they looked so peaceful that had it not been for the froth on their lips, you would have thought they had died in their sleep.

Today it is busy and decked with finery. It is packed to purpose with poisons and poisoners. If a house could smile, Greavesdrake would be grinning.

Wolf Spring s not a city of finery. It is of fishers and farmers and folk on the docks, and no one wears their fine blacks except on Beltane.

Except for the severe coloring, Arsinoe does not look much like a queen. Her hair is rough, and they cannot keep her from cutting it. Her black trousers are the same ones she wears everyday, and so is her light black jacket. The only piece of finery they could get her into for the occasion was a new scarf that Madrigal found at Pearson's, made from the wool of their fancy, flop-eared rabbits.