Page 109 of The Witch Queen

But I hear the hushed comments about the absence of the king’s daughter, the Princess Matilda. There’s still no sign of her. Plenty assume I killed the girl, or that I ordered her death as a way to cement my own claim. I did not. And should the princess have accepted my hand, I would have tried to make a good husband to her. To honor her right to sit on Riven’s throne.

Perhaps I should have insisted that the princess rule in her own right and not simply as consort. But what good would that have done? The nobles would have offered the crown to another man. One more pliant and easier to bend to their will. At least I can do some good.

And yet thoughts of the missing princess haunt me in the night. Sometimes, I swear that I can sense her presence. Watching me. Judging me. I pray that it is an illusion. That the princess is alive and well and that she never returns to the palace.

If she does, I fear she might burn Riven down to satisfy her vengeance.

—Private writings of Braxos, First of the Line of White, Undated

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ayleth

The palace grounds are riddled with scars from the attack: Broken statues and bits of glass and pools of blood. Tendrils of foul-smelling miasma curl up from the dozens of craterlike holes left behind by the lightning storm. The scent of it still clings to my clothes. Burns in my nostrils: charred flesh and rot andwrongness.

I am the true queen.

The creature’s words echo through my mind like the sinister call of a crow. For so long, I assumed that the so-called queen was a witch masquerading as the false goddess. But it wasn’t one of the Heirs who split open the floor of the Great Hall. Wasn’t some unknown witch who hauled herself out of the void.

“Who—orwhat—was that?” Margaret asks, pulling me back into the council chamber.

She’s still dressed as Callen, his pilfered crown glittering on her head. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to rip it away from her.

“I’m afraid I do not yet have an answer,” Master Parnell replies. “But the Hunt has been dispatched, of course. And the guards are scouring the grounds for survivors or any trace of the…creature. There’s little more we can do at the moment.”

“Little more?” Margaret scoffs. “Nevenwolves and Followers were bad enough, but now we havecorpsesrunning around Riven? My niece is the heir to the throne and she’s not even safe in her own palace.”

“She’s not heir yet,” Lord Warbeck chimes in.

Margaret studies him a moment, drumming her fingertips on the table. “Youdon’t seem very concerned about this turn of events, Warbeck. And I find it very interesting that your son just happened to be present with both the Nevenwolf and now this incident.”

Warbeck clenches his fist. “I would remind the duchess that she is a guest in the palace. Such baseless accusations—”

“Enough,” I cut in, pressure pounding between my temples. “There’s no time for such squabbling. We have more important matters at hand.”

“Quite so, Majesty,” Parnell agrees. “And, while I may not know anything about the creature itself, I am certain of one thing. My sources were correct: Rycinthia is using the Followers to aid in rebellion—and the witches are among them.”

Not the covens, though. The power I witnessed tonight was beyond anything the Heirs should be capable of. It was beyondme.

From the darkness will rise aqueen.

The words of the prophecy resound in my mind. Because it’s exactly what the creature had done, dragging herself out of the void. A bitter taste cuts between my teeth.

“How did they breach the palace?” I demand.

“I’m investigating that,” Parnell replies. “But I believe it’s safe to assume that they had assistance. Someone inside the palace, most likely. Your Majesty will recall my previous suspicions? About the prisoner?”

The prisoner who is currently serving on the palace staff.

“What’s this?” Margaret asks.

“You told me that matter was settled,” I say. “An oversight.”

“I assumed as much,” Parnell agrees. “But with this second attack, I can’t help but wonder if the two are related. After all, it would besimple for an escaped prisoner to blend in with the celebrations. Especially if she was a witch.”

I drown my nerves in another swallow of wine.

“The palace must be searched at once,” Margaret orders. “Interrogate everyone.”