Page 31 of The Witch Queen

Ayleth

My blood roils as I stalk through the halls, rage and humiliation scalding my cheeks.

Claim her right to the throne.Margaret’s words wheel like crows in my mind.

And not justthethrone.

Mythrone.

Malum snaps inside me, the shadows leaping and diving in my wake. How could I have been so careless? I assumed that, because of Margaret’s distance, the duchess wasn’t a threat. I accepted Blodwyn’s letters at face value, never once imagining that the princess might be deceiving me. Might be hatching her own schemes with her duplicitous aunt.

Failed,that old voice whispers.You’ve failed again.

“Get out,” I bark at the servants as I storm into my chambers.

They scamper off and I slam the doors behind them, then march into my bedchamber. Nettle lifts her head and meows a greeting from where she’s curled on my bed, but I ignore her and head straight for my mirror.

“Callen!”

I yank the curtain back. The imprisoned king’s face fills the glass.

“Oh, hello. How did things go with my sister?” His grin tells me that he is perfectly aware of what occurred.

“Did you know what they were planning?” I demand.

“You mean thetrials?” Callen lifts his eyebrows. “No. But it is genius. I’m rather proud, actually. A bold move. Exactly the sort of strategy I would devise.”

“And that’s no wonder, is it? When Margaret is yourtwin.Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Is that important? One sister is very much like another. It doesn’t matter to me when they were born.” He pauses. “Though Iamolder. Don’t listen to her if she claims otherwise.”

“You could have warned me that she—”

“What? That she is a lying, manipulative viper? I did warn you of precisely that. Repeatedly. It’s not my fault that you chose to ignore my counsel.”

Damn him. But much as I am loath to admit it, Callen is right. I only have myself to blame for this mess. I dismissed Callen’s stories as amusing anecdotes from their childhood. Even admired Margaret for bullying him. And now she’s here to bullyme.I stalk over to a sideboard and pour myself a glass of wine. Weston didnotorder enough.

“Just tell me how to get out of this.”

“Out?” Callen laughs. “If the council has agreed to the trials, there’s no going back.”

“What about the actual challenges?” I press. “Can’t Blodwyn fail them?”

“Only if she’s completely inept,” Callen replies. “These days, the whole thing is ceremonial. The challenges are designed so that the claimant will succeed. The risk of humiliation is too great otherwise.”

And even if the challenges weren’t ceremonial, I have no doubt that Margaret has been spending the last years preparing Blodwyn for whatever the council might throw at her. My shadows dart around me, feeding off my rising anxiety.

“There isoneway you could salvage this matter,” Callen says, thoughtful. “After all, should Blodwyn prevail in the trials, she’d merely be regent.I’mstill the king.”

“Barely,” I comment, pouring out another glass of wine. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“If I were to make a miraculous recovery, none of this would matter.”

I frown, pacing back and forth in front of the fire. It would be simple enough for me to wake Callen’s shell of a body. The mirror’s spell would compel him to obey me. He could order his meddling sister—and even Blodwyn—back to Darryn. But it may not be so straightforward. The months after I took the king’s heart quickly taught me why Ignatius picked servants as his minions. Concealing the mirror-sheen of Callen’s eyes was easily accomplished with the right potion. At first, at least. But, with so much attention on the king, it was nearly impossible to disguise the changes in his behavior. Even Weston noticed. Whispers of madness were soon slithering through court. And a mad king is almost as useless as a dead one.

“It won’t work,” I say. “They’d claim you’re not in your right mind.”

He smiles at me, all teeth. “Not if it was therealme.”