Page 145 of The Witch Queen

That night, we make camp in a clearing just off the road. Guards patrol the area, their torches bright through the canvas of my tent. I should attempt to get some sleep, but I’m restless, my mind spinning with all the ways this plan can fail. My shadows keep close and I can sense Noxnearby—sometimes even catching the shine of his eye in the darkness. But, for the first time since I broke the Veil, I crave the comfort of light.

Aside from the guards, most of the camp is still and quiet when I push out into the night, heading for the campfire. Too late, I realize I’m not alone. Someone turns at my approach, backlit by the glow of the flames. Jacquetta.

I freeze. “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, was I supposed to be chained inside the carriage for the duration of the journey?”

Maybe,I think bitterly. I certainly don’t want her free to roam the camp. But Jacquetta doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere. In fact, there’s an open bottle at her feet.

“Is that wine?” I ask, nodding at it.

“Perhaps,” she answers. “Want some?”

More than life itself. I don’t want to take it fromher,though.

“No. I was just…”

She holds out the bottle and shakes it temptingly. The last of my resolve withers. I cross over to her and swipe it from her grasp.

“Where did you get this, anyway?” I ask, settling myself as far from her as possible on the short log serving as a bench.

“Guards had it,” Jacquetta replies with a shrug. “I threatened to hex them if they didn’t hand it over.”

That sounds about right. I take a long drink. The liquid burns like fire down my throat, so unexpectedly harsh that I choke, coughing half of it up.

“And it’s not wine,” Jacquetta adds with a smirk.

“You might have warned me,” I croak out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Even though my tastebuds are seared off from the drink, I can still detect a faint hint of roses in my mouth. Of her.

“Oh, are wewarningeach other now?” she asks.

I bristle and start to answer back, but then register that her words were a little slurred. And she’s swaying slightly in her seat. “Are you drunk?”

“Trying to be,” she says, lurching over and yanking the bottle out of my hands. “Thought I might as well enjoy my last hours.”

I roll my eyes. “They wouldn’tbeyour last hours if it weren’t for that stunt you pulled.”

“Stunt? That’s funny. I seem to recall someoneelse”—she points the bottle at me and liquid spills out—“proposing the plan to capture and kill the witches. Including me.”

The nearby shadows lengthen.

“What else was I supposed to do? You went to Margaret.”

“Because you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“I wouldn’t give up my power,” I retort. “And neither would you, were you in my position. You made that very clear.”

Jacquetta crosses her arms. “Well, then there’s nothing left for us to say, is there?”

No, there isn’t.

So I snatch the bottle back and take another long drink, grimacing as the alcohol sears down my throat. In the sullen silence that follows, night creatures hoot and chirrup. I might be able to spot the shine of Nox’s crimson eye through the trees. I’m half tempted to call the Nevenwolf—lethimdeal with Jacquetta. Then again, with how my luck has been faring, Nox would probably take her side. Besides, there’s something else that’s bothering me. And Jacquetta is drunk enough that I just might get a truthful answer.

“Why didn’t you tell Margaret about me?” I ask.

Jacquetta stiffens. She’s quiet for so long that I’m not sure she’s going to answer. Then, “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”