Page 150 of The Witch Queen

Whatever you do to the others tomorrow, you’re going to have to do to me.

“Have the archers ready,” I reply.

The guard nods and then steers his horse back to the group. Jacquetta and I leave the forest in silence. The remains of the Sanctum loom in front of us. Its arched windows are blown out, moss and vinescreeping up the crumbling brick. Just as at Stonehaven, the ivy vines clinging to the structure have deepened to dark red, so that it appears that the walls are gashed. That the former sanctuary is weeping blood.

Another crow calls overhead.

“I suppose it’s rather fitting that it should all end here,” Jacquetta comments as she dismounts her horse. The scouts haven’t sighted the witches yet, so we might have a while to wait.

I finish tying my horse’s lead, ignoring the tightness in my chest. Telling myself that the feeling knotting my stomachisn’tguilt.

“It doesn’t have to be the end for you,” I tell her. “I meant what I said last night. You can still choose differently.”

“And I meant whatIsaid,” she returns. “If you want to continue down this path, you’re going to have to go all the way.”

Frustration kindles in my chest. Why is she always so stubborn? And why does it bother me? If Jacquetta insists on throwing her life away, then fine. I should let her. But for some unfathomable reason, I can’t.

“Why do you keep taking their side?” I press. “They wouldn’t do the same for you. They don’t care about you.”

“Doyoucare about me?”

Yes,my stupid heart whispers. I grit my teeth against it. A cold wind gusts around us, rustling the ivy leaves.

“That’s not—”

A distantthumpinterrupts me, followed by another. I hurry over to the gate. There’s a man lying on the ground near the tree line. Even from here, I register Riven’s colors. Which means it’s one of the archers.Myarchers. As if on cue, more bodies topple from their perches. And then a line of men marches out from within the forest. They’re wearing the navy and gold of Rycinthia. Understanding sinks its talons into my brain:

It’s an ambush.

Failed,that voice supplies.You have failed.

I whirl on Jacquetta. “What have you done?”

She gapes at me. “Me?I didn’t—”

“Daughter.”

Jacquetta halts, her attention pivoting back to the entrance of the Sanctum. Panic rings in my skull at the sight of four crimson cloaks.Witches.They lower their hoods and I recognize Selene and Sindony, the former Diviner Heir and her Second. There’s also Della, another Heir. But it’s the last witch that pins me in place. One who shouldn’t be here at all:

It’s Nerissa.

—

“Mother!”

Jacquetta rushes across the courtyard and throws her arms around the other witch. But I don’t move, instincts warring in my mind. What are theydoinghere? The scouts claimed they hadn’t yet spotted the Heirs. How did they, much less the Rycinthian army, traipse through Riven without us noticing? Why didn’t Callen or Shade find them?

Shade.

Fool that I am, I left my Huntsman behind. And he was right. I shouldn’t have come here alone. Selene’s keen Diviner gaze lands on me. Just like at Stonehaven, I get the distinct impression that she can glimpse inside my mind. She smiles, like Nettle with her mice.

“YourMajesty,” she says, dipping her chin in a mock show of respect. “How kind of you to honor us with your presence.”

Anger flares, waking my power. Shade or not, there’s still time to fix this.

“Nox!” I shout.

The Nevenwolf springs from the shadows, snarling. Most of the other witches react immediately, hurling spells of their own. But Selene doesn’t flinch. She raises a hand.