Page 152 of The Witch Queen

Pain twists Jacquetta’s features, so agonizing that I feel the ache in my own chest. It is the exact same pain I experienced when I discovered what would have been my crimson cloak stuffed away in a chest—abandoned. And that’s when I know without a shadow of a doubt that Jacquetta wasn’t aware of this scheme. The Heirs, Nerissa herself, betrayed her. Perhaps I should feel vindicated, but I don’t. Instead, anger simmers in my veins. My shadows leap and dive around me, eager to be set loose.

“You would sacrifice your own daughter?” I ask Nerissa, seething.

She stiffens but does not lower the blade. “We must have the Bloodstones. Fulfill the prophecy. There is no other way.”

“The prophecy?” I echo. “What does this have to do with—”

“From the darkness will rise a queen,” Selene recites, her green eyes so bright that they’re almost manic. “And you have darkened this realm beyond recognition. It’s time forusto reclaim it. To begin a new age for witches. With a proper leader at its head.”

And the look on her face tells me exactly who Selene believes this leader should be.

“You?” I ask. “You think the prophecy is about you?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” she asks. “The words were spoken bymyancestress. A gift from the Spirits themselves. A destiny.Mydestiny. Surely you sense that. After all, if you were really the queen Aphelia foretold, nothing would stand in your way.”

“What is that supposed to—”

Selene gestures to Nerissa, who digs the blade of her knife into Jacquetta’s throat. I take a half step toward her, my shadows swirling. Nox snarls, barely restraining himself.

“You see?” Selene says. “If you truly desired your crown, the fate of some half-Wayward witch wouldn’t trouble you. But you’ve always allowed sentiment and emotion to cloud your judgment. It’s why poor Cassandra knew you would never be a proper Heir.”

Fury smolders in my chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh no?” Selene asks, arching an eyebrow. “Then prove me wrong. Make your choice: Jacquetta or the crown.”

My heartbeat slams against my ribs, repeating the words like a drumbeat:

Jacquetta or the crown. Jacquetta or the crown.

If I surrender the Bloodstones, the Heirs will reforge the Veil. I’ll lose everything. Tothem.But if I don’t…my eyes meet Jacquetta’s. There’s a plea in her anguished gaze.

Forget her,that voice orders.She’s not worth this.

A thin line of blood trickles down Jacquetta’s neck. Della and Sindony draw their own blades. Nox growls, ready to pounce. That deep instinct thrums, begging me to use my shadows. Destroy Selene and the others. But I don’t move. Don’t get the chance to do anything.

Because a scream shatters the courtyard.

Della arches back, her face contorted in agony. At first, I assume one of my archers survived and fired a shot. But then Della sinks to her knees, revealing the shadowy form behind her. One with glowing crimson eyes.

“Shade?” I breathe, torn between relief and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

In answer, my Huntsman withdraws his hand from Della’s back. The orb of her power pulses faintly in his palm. The other witches scream and scatter, but my focus is fixed on Shade as he glides toward me, shadows wafting like smoke from his limbs

For you, my queen,he rasps.

And then he extracts something else from the shadowy folds of his body: my crown.

The jagged shards of the Bloodstones begin to glow, sensing Della’s power.

“The crown!” Selene shouts. “There!”

The other witches charge, throwing spells in our direction. But a wall of shadow rises up, keeping everyone else back.

Take it,Shade repeats, oblivious to the others.Do what you promised.Endthem.

It is what I promised. What I wanted: for all the covens’ magic to be destroyed, leaving only Malum. But now, as I stare at the Bloodstone crown, I do not sense the tug of my destiny. Instead, there is only emptiness. This may be the crown from the prophecy, but what has it really given me? Not glory. And certainly not happiness. If I take the Heirs’ magic, what will that really solve? How soon before someone else comes and snatches this crown from my own hands—an endless cycle of violence and betrayal. An endless pit of hunger I’ll never be able tosate. I find Jacquetta’s gaze through the tempest of shadows, the bright blue of her eyes like a beacon. For the first time in a long time, I know exactly what to do.

“No,” I say to Shade, shaking my head. “Not this way.”