Page 199 of The Witch Queen

And perhaps such fear shouldn’t be a surprise, but a fragile part of me wilts all the same.

“I can’t say what’s coming next,” I tell her, fighting the tightness in my chest. “And, as for Shade, perhaps he will remain. But so will I. And I need you to understand that thisiswho I am. Whether I control the shadows or not, they’re part of me. They always will be. If you were expecting me to change, you’ll be disappointed.”

She looks at me a long moment. Moonlight gleams in her eyes, bringing out the silver spangles in the blue.

“I would never ask you to change,” she says at last.

But does that mean she’ll accept me? That she’ll want me the way I am when all this is over? Any answer is lost in the sound of her retreating footsteps as she returns to the Sanctum.

Part V

I met a witch today on patrol. A Wayward. Mathilde, she called herself.

It was obvious that she’d been wandering the forest for too long. I warned her of the danger. Offered to take her back to Stonehaven, but she refused. Insisted she preferred the company of the trees—ofwolves—regardless of the threat of the Hunt. Even so, I sat with her. Shared my food.

In return, Mathilde offered me a reading. She was something of a Diviner, I learned. Or she would have been, had she joined the Covens. Her instrument appeared to be a string of teeth hanging from her belt. I likely should have refused. Mother would flay me alive if she knew I accepted the magic of a Wayward. But curiosity got the better of me, eager—as anyone might be—to know what lies ahead.

But Mathilde did not glimpse the future Mother—and even our own Diviners—portends. She did not see me as head of the coven. There was only darkness, she claimed. Pain. But she did gift me one glimmer of hope.

With one of her gnarled fingers, Mathilde drew the shape of a triangle on my palm. She said it was a promise. That if I would let it, those three crossed lines would guide me to the light.

—From the private writings of Rhea, Second to Cassandra, High Witch of Stonehaven

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Blodwyn

The White Palace is shrouded in shadows.

It has never felt less like my home as I stand on the hillside, watching the White City below. According to Aunt Margaret, the Rycinthian troops are still a few days out, but it looks as though a battle has occurred here already. Smoke drifts up from the distant buildings. Murders of crows wheel above the turrets of the palace. A dark cloud hangs over the rooftops, which only worsens the sense of dread humming in my veins.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Ayleth says beside me. “I can go with you.”

“Aye,” Roland chimes in. “No sense in getting yourself killed. Might as well let Mistress Witch die first.”

She glowers at him. “Thank you for that.”

In all honesty, turning around sounds like the smart thing to do. Even from here, I can sense the danger radiating from the palace. But if we don’t retrieve Papa’s mirror, we have no hope of surviving whatever is next.

“I have to be the one to go,” I say, as much to myself as the others. “I have the best chance of getting in and out without being caught. Verity will help, in any case.”

I decided to involve her as soon as we finalized our plan. I’ll need someone I can trust within the palace walls and I can’t think of anyone else who would agree to such a reckless endeavor.

Ayleth frowns. “You’re certain that’s a good idea? I know you’re friends, but—”

“She won’t betray me,” I say.

After all, Verity didn’t scheme to lock me away in her family estate. Not like Gavin. I clench my fists against his memory. Maybe Papa reinstated the trials and named him his heir. He’d always wanted a son.

“Are you finished with your farewells yet?” the other witch, Sindony, calls from where the others are clustered near the door Roland summoned on an outcropping of rock. “Or are we going to stand here blubbering all day?”

Ayleth makes a face in her direction.

“Is she always like that?” I ask.

“Worse, usually,” Ayleth returns. “But remember the plan: As soon as you locate the mirror, let Margaret know. She can tell us. We’ll be there as soon as possible. And no matter what Sindony says, thisisn’tfarewell.”

“No,” I agree, even though neither of us knows if that’s really true.