Page 218 of The Witch Queen

“When have I ever been accused of being rational?” I point out. Nettle meows, as if to agree. “For what it’s worth, I hope things work out between you this time.”

“Thank you,” Joan says, squeezing my hand again. “And remember what I said: Love is the strongest magic there is. It may not always seem that way, but you and Jacquetta have more of it than any two people I know.”

—

A few nights later, I walk along the garden paths. It’s a frequent activity for me these days, especially in the evenings. The Great Hall has beenrepaired since the destruction at the Remembrance Ball, but—like Anora—most of the courtiers are painfully awkward around me. That, or they’re reveling in my fall like vultures. It’s often easier to keep to myself.

A raven calls overhead and I glance up, hoping that it might finally be Jacquetta. But the bird just sails on. For the first time since the mirror shattered, I miss the imprisoned king. Or at least the power he afforded me. I’d love nothing more than to peer into the Sanctum’s walls. Learn what Jacquetta and the others are discussing. If it’s about me.

But those abilities are beyond me now. So much of my power has changed in the last weeks. I still see Nox, his crimson eye gleaming out at me from the shadows. Still feel Malum rumbling behind my sternum, much stronger now than it was when Shade abandoned me. Even the shadows have returned, brushing shyly against my body or playing around my ankles as I walk. We’re getting to know one another again, I think. And I suspect that most of my abilities will return in time. But I doubt it will ever be like it was.

Part of me mourns the sheer, raw power that Malum used to provide me. But I was just using it to fill a void within myself. And whether I realized it or not, the power I craved so much was eating away at me—the same way the Veil did to the creatures of Malum. Sooner or later, I would have wound up exactly like Shade, fueled solely by hatred and greed. Unable to recognize love when it was staring me in the face.

I haven’t encountered my former Huntsman since the night we took the palace. He, like Mother, couldn’t remain in a world where magic and Malum are twined together. Even so, I sense that Shade is still out there, hovering in the shadows. Waiting for someone to help him regain a foothold in our world. A crow calls in the distance and I swear I can see the glimmer of crimson eyes in the darkness.

Fairest of them all.

A muttered curse carries through the night.

I round a corner and find that the gate to the late Queen Sybil’s garden is open. Moonlight shines down on the barren bushes andstone sculptures. And there, in the far corner, I spot Blodwyn. Her hands are curled into fists and she’s evidently extremely annoyed by one of the withered rosebushes.

“Comeon,” she seethes, kicking dirt in its direction. “Why can’t you—”

She whirls at the sound of my approach.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to interrupt…whatever this is.”

“You’re not,” she says, gesturing helplessly to one of the plants. “I was just…”

“Trying to make it grow?”

A faint flush creeps up her face. “It sounds ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” I reply. “In fact, I used to know a witch who had a talent for such spells.”

A memory resurfaces of Eden charming the roses in Stonehaven’s kitchen window. I think the two of them would have been friends, if circumstances were different.

“Not me, apparently,” Blodwyn says, sullen. “How could I have brought Aunt Margaret back to life, but I can’t even rouse a few shrubs?”

A smile twitches at my lips. She reminds me so much of myself at her age. Frustrated at a power I didn’t understand.

“Be patient,” I tell her, motioning for her to join me as I take a seat on a bench. “I imagine there’s much for you to learn about your new abilities. It was the same for me after I broke the Veil. And it didn’t help that I spent most of my life fearing Malum.”

“That’s what I mean,” Blodwyn says with a sigh. “Sometimes, it feels like this huge well of power, so vast that I’m sure I’ll drown in it. What’s to stop me from turning into…”

“Me?” I ask.

She slides me a sideways look. “I didn’t intend to sound cruel.”

“I don’t blame you for worrying, especially after everything you’ve been through. And you’re right. There’snothingto stop you from falling into that well. Nothing but this.”

I press a hand to my own heart. Far too many times, I’ve failed to trust it.

“But what if I’m—” she starts.

“That fear,” I say, “will poison you. Remember what happened with your aunt. You didn’t force anything. Didn’t think too hard. You just let it happen. Trusted yourself. That’s all you have to do.”

Blodwyn weighs this, frowning. But then she turns to the nearest rosebush and touches the brittle branches. The air shimmers and then, to my amazement, green leaves unfurl from the stems, swiftly followed by buds that burst into bloom, revealing red, velvet-like petals.