Page 148 of The Witch Queen

A blur of dark fur springs from the shadows, landing on Aunt Margaret’s shoulders with a feral yowl.Nettle.

The cat claws at my aunt, forcing her to release me. I don’t waste my chance. Abandoning my satchel, I bolt through the chamber and into the passages, slamming the door—and the life I lived with Aunt Margaret—behind me.

—

By some miraculous stroke of luck, I make it through the maze of the servants’ corridors and out of the palace without being discovered. But even as the night air stings in my lungs, I don’t let myself slow, my ears pricked for Aunt Margaret or the guards. Keeping my hood drawn, I dart between shadowy hiding spots until I reach the safety of the stables. Lantern light flickers near the back stalls and I rush toward it.

“Blodwyn.” Gavin looks up from fastening the saddle as I round the corner. “Are you all right? You look—”

“We have to go,” I tell him, still breathless. “Right now. My aunt knows our plan.”

As if to illustrate my point, a voice carries from outside. “The princess? No, she’s not been around here.”

Gavin pales.

“All right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t have the other horse ready yet, but we can share this one. Can you finish with this? I still have a few things to gather. It won’t take long.”

“Yes, fine,” I say, making a hurrying motion. “Just be quick.”

Gavin nods, then peeks his head around the stall and disappears. I take his place with the saddle, securing the last of the buckles. But even the horse must sense my nervousness, for it won’t remain still. It bumps into me and I stumble backward, knocking something over—Gavin’s satchel. I bend to retrieve the items that tumbled out of it. One is a folded piece of parchment, a letter. The wax seal is broken, but I recognize the emblem—a roaring wolf’s head. One that belongs to the Warbecks. Which means this letter came from someone in Gavin’s family.A sibling, perhaps, I reason. Still…foreboding taps at the nape of my neck. What if itisn’ta sibling? Against my better judgment, I unfold the letter and scan the meticulous handwriting:

Present this to the master at arms at the estate. He’ll know what to do with her. And under no circumstances is she to leave.

—W

For the second time tonight, my blood turns to ice. I read the letter twice, then three times, the words swimming together. Straw crunches as hurried footsteps approach.

“Almost ready. I just have to—” Gavin stops short. And any hope that I misunderstood the situation dies at the way the color drains from his face. “Blodwyn. I can explain.”

A sour taste cuts between my teeth. How could I have beensucha fool?

“Explain what?” I ask, brandishing the parchment. “That you were kidnapping me on your father’s orders? That I was about to be yourhostage?”

“No,” he says. “I mean…I had to make it look like that, but…”

“Youhadto,” I echo. “Because it seems to me that you could have chosen otherwise.”

“It was the only way I could think to get you out of here safely,” he says, flustered. “But I was never going to go through with the rest of my father’s plans.”

“And what were those?” I retort. “To leave me locked in some tower room until your coronation? Or is there an accident waiting for me out in the woods?”

“Of course not! I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe you?” I ask. “After all this?”

Anger throbs in my chest and I’m not sure who I hate more in this moment: Gavin or myself. And to think I was actually beginning to believe he was different. That I might have been wrong about him—about love itself. But he was using me.

And I am alone here, just as I’ve always been.

“Blodwyn,” Gavin tries, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

He reaches out, but I do not want him near me. Do not want anything to do with him, ever again. Rage roils in my veins, stronger than I’ve ever felt it.

“Don’ttouchme!”

A sound like thunder cracks between us. Wood explodes as the stall door crashes inward. I duck and throw my hands over my head. The horse whinnies and gallops off. When I look up, Gavin is lying on the opposite side of the stall, motionless. And standing in the splintered doorway is…

Barnabas.