Page 72 of The Witch Queen

“I’m not disappointed.” She pauses. Fidgets with one of the rings on her fingers. “In fact, I think you did well.”

I huff a short laugh. “You don’t need to flatter me.”

“I’m not,” she insists. “Sparing the stag is exactly what your mother would have done. She’d be proud of you.”

Proud.The word touches a tender place within me. And, as much as I am loath to admit it, some part of me thinks that Ayleth might be right. Mother despised hunting for sport, always refusing to accompany the court on such ventures. For the briefest of instants, I imagine that I smell the soft floral perfume of the oils Mother once wore. Likeshe’s here with me. But I shake that away. Because Ayleth didn’t know Mother. And she has no right to speak of her.

“Perhaps,” I say to Ayleth. “We’ll never get the change to find out. Mother isn’there.”

And Ayleth is part of the reason she’s gone. Still…for the briefest of instants, pain flickers across Ayleth’s features. Guilt twinges in my chest, but I shove it down. If Ayleth is wounded, it’s her own fault.

“Well,” she says, forcing a smile. “I hope—”

“Blodwyn? Here you are. I’m sorry I’m…” Verity rounds the corner and halts when she spots the two of us. “Your Majesty! Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Not at all,” Ayleth replies, her shoulders still tense. “I should be going. Good luck on your studies, Blodwyn.”

With that, she retreats into the stacks, her skirts whispering across the floor. Nettle stays behind, fixing me with what I interpret as a reproachful stare. I ignore her.

“What was that about?” Verity asks, nodding in the direction Ayleth went.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just another of her pathetic attempts to befriend me. Honestly, I don’t know why she even bothers. She’s spent the last three years proving that she has no interest in me at all. Even a fool can guess that she’s only showing me kindness now because she wants something. Just like it was before with Papa.”

Verity frowns, a crease digging between her brows. “Maybe. But…”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she continues. “Perhaps the queen does feel badly about all that.”

“Then why open the trials? Invite the whole realm to compete against me?”

“I can’t guess the queen’s motives,” Verity admits. “But…I’m not entirely sure she could have done otherwise, given the circumstances. In fact, I doubt her position is an easy one. Especially not in this court.”

“So you’re taking her side?”

“No,” she assures me. “It’s just…from what I understand about the queen’s past, she didn’t have a lot of options. I can empathize with that. If a king had shown up and wanted to marryme,my own mother probably would have shoved me down the aisle. Perhaps the queen found herself in a similar situation. Whatever she’s done, you can’t blame her for wanting some control over her own life.”

Verity’s words strike an unwelcome chord. How often have I felt like a piece on a board, being pushed around by Papa or the White Court’s whims?

“That doesn’t excuse anything,” I argue.

“No,” Verity agrees. “But families can be difficult, remember? Maybe the queen has come to regret some of her choices. Perhaps, in her own way, she’s trying to apologize.”

Like with the bow. Or how Ayleth left my menagerie in perfect condition. I’d always assumed Ayleth hated me because I was a threat to her position. That she used me to get close to Papa and then turned on me as soon as she didn’t need me anymore. But could I be wrong about her? What if shedoesregret the past?

“Come on,” I say to Verity, banishing the questions. “We’d better get started.”

—

“Honestly, who taught these people how to write?” Verity complains. It’s been hours, but we’ve barely worked through half the books Master William brought. “I know this is history, but does it have to besodry?”

Even Nettle has grown bored. She devoured two bowls of cream and is now curled in the window seat, napping. I would give anything to join her.

“You really don’t have to stay,” I tell Verity.

“Of course I do. I’m here to support you. Besides,these”—she lifts one of the tarts on the plate between us—“are delicious. It pays to be friends with a princess.”

Friends.