Page 143 of The Witch Queen

It’s the night before we’re set to leave to meet the covens, which means it’s my last chance to sleep in a warm bed before we travel. But I’m far too restless, instead pacing in front of the fire and combing over every detail of the plan with my Huntsman.

“I won’t be alone,” I remind him. “I’ll have a full legion of the Hunt. Which is exactly why you can’t come. I can’t take the Heirs’ magic in full view of everyone.”

Much as I might want to.

It is too much of a risk,Shade replies.The witches will have their own scheme.

The same warning he’s repeated since we first discussed this plan. Initially, Shade was thrilled to learn that I agreed to use Jacquetta to capture the Heirs. But my Huntsman has grown impatient, arguing that if we don’t deal with the witches immediately, we give them an opportunity to retaliate. Worse, that capture might be precisely what the covens are counting upon. It’s a fair point. Selene and the others have spent the last three years evading me. If they agreed to the meeting with Jacquetta, it’s safe to assume that they have their own agenda.

“It’s a gamble we’ll have to take,” I tell Shade. “Besides, Nox will be nearby if anything goes awry.”

The Nevenwolf chuffs, as if to agree. He’s curled in a far corner, Nettle pouncing among his shadows.

“In any case, I need you here, watching the palace in my absence,” I add. “Margaret will doubtless be hatching plots of her own while I’m gone. And Blodwyn…”

I haven’t seen or spoken to the princess again since our argument and I have no idea what’s going through her mind.

Let me take care of the girl,Shade presses.

Perhaps I should finally listen. Blodwyn is a loose end. She could destroy everything with a single word. My gaze twitches over to the drawer where I keep the mirror’s knife. The dark path that waits for me, should I take it.

Don’t be afraid of who you are,that voice slinks through my mind.

“Not yet,” I tell Shade. “Just…watch her.”

He nods, though I can sense his dissatisfaction in the agitated tempo of his shadows.

When will you return?he asks.

“Hopefully in a few days,” I reply. “Callen says he spotted the covens’ party within Riven’s borders. We should arrive at the Sanctum before they do and set our trap. Once we apprehend the witches, we’ll bring them back here.”

And then the Heirs will be ours.Mine,at long last. It feels like I’ve waited a hundred years for this day. I expected that it would feel larger now that it’s here. More triumphant. But I cannot escape the hum of dread in my veins. I remove my crown from my head. Deep within its craggy jewels, I glimpse the pulse of magic.

I can feel it withering,Jacquetta said of her own power.Dying. Like pieces of myself are just…decaying.

After what happened, I shouldn’t care about her pain. Still…

“If this works,” I say to Shade, “and after we take the last of the witches’ power…will they feel the way you did during those years behind the Veil?”

He pauses a moment. Then,Is that not the purpose, my queen?

“Yes,” I agree. “It’s only…”

I trail off, recalling a time when I chased a different purpose. A world without factions or divisions. One in which Jacquetta and I could just be two witches, our hands and hearts joined forever. If I go through with this plan, that world will never exist.

Do not doubt yourself,Shade rasps.We are so close.

He’s right. There’s little use in mourning an imaginary world. The shadows are real. As is Shade, who is standing beside me now, just as he’s always done since I broke the Veil. Jacquetta can’t say the same. And she never will.

“Here,” I say, taking the crown to my Huntsman. “Keep this with you. I don’t want to take the chance of the Heirs getting it.”

Shade bows, his shadowy fingers curling around the Bloodstones.

It will be safe with me, my queen,he promises.AndI look forward to your return. The start of a new age.

His crimson eyes glitter.

I try to let his confidence fill me up. Lean into the destiny stretching before me, close enough to touch. But as Shade dissolves into the darkness, I turn my palm up, tracing the three faint lines of my sister’s mark.