Page 80 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers
“Each Well that we will seal brings us closer to the day we no longer have to fear their return,” she shouts to the crowd. “Every ounce we will drain is poison leeched from the wounds the mages left us. Protection from those who yearn for rule by the will of the many, and not by those who know best. Those of us who arewisest.” She pauses, a wicked smile curving her lips. “And a queen should be wise enough to spot the poison waiting for her, should she not?”
The crowd of nobles explodes, roaring in approval. But my hands go numb and my blood turns to ice. The whole world blurs around the edges. The High Queen’s lips keep moving, but I hear nothing above the din of horrifying understanding crashing over me.
The keen burn of Wolf’s eyes in the temple sears across my memories.
Would you fight? If there was even a drop of magic left?
That’s what he had asked me.
I don’t know how this could be possible. It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught, everything I thought I knew.
But the High Queen’s words leave no room for doubt.
Each Well that wewillseal.
Every ounce wewilldrain.
The world lurches around me, then snaps into place with a sickening jolt.
There’s still magic left in the Seven Wells.
And the Whisperers fucking know it.
TWENTY
Of course it would be a test ofpoison.
Deceptive.
Deadly.
Just like the lie that every noble on the isle is apparently in on. And the Whisperers…
I hate the way betrayal tastes. Bitter and sharp as acid, and way too familiar at this point. Wolf’s green eyes burn in my mind, and all I can think of is how much I want to slam my fist against his chest and yell until my voice breaks.
Or he does.
How could the Whisperers keep this from us all? Every one of us deserves to know the truth—to know that there’s still something left worth fighting for.
That there is still brilliant, wild hope left for our home.
The Whisperers aren’t just fighting to be able to use magic that mages might get from somewhere else. I’m sure of it. They’re fighting to save the magic left in the Seven Wells.
Magic that belongs to us all.
I close my eyes and tilt my face back to the sky above. Shaking breaths don’t come close to dulling the shock pulsing in a rampant beat through my bones.
There’s no way Wolf’s words in that temple were a coincidence, is there?
I look forward again.
Sapphire eyes pin on me, and ice blooms over my body.
There’s no shock on the prince’s smooth, cold face from his stepmother’s words.
And he’s the only one not cheering at all her vile words about magic.
I grab so hard on to the table ledge that my nails dig into the wood. The splintering pain slices through the haze of shock.
