Page 112 of The Witch Queen

Chapter Thirty-Three

Blodwyn

“Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs, writhing against my invisible bonds. “Someone help! Ayleth is—”

The rest is snatched from my throat, leaving me gasping for air. But someone must have heard me, for light spills into the chamber from the direction of the front doors.

“Your Majesty?” someone, likely a guard, calls. “Is everything all right?”

No. It is not all right. I’m going to die. She’s going to murder me. I attempt to cry out again, but only manage garbled, choking sounds.

Help!I plead in my mind.Please! I’m right here!

“I’m fine,” Ayleth replies quickly. “You may go. Do not disturb me again.”

There’s a beat of silence and then the guard retreats. His footsteps fade away, along with any hope of my being rescued. The door snicks closed, and I hear the bolt slide into place, sealing my fate.

“What the hell are we going to do?” The one I recognize as Jacquetta demands.

She gapes at me likeI’mthe one who just revealed the biggest secret in Riven.

Ayleth is a witch.Awitch.

The words loop through my mind, ominous as crows. But beneath my shock and horror, a strange sense of certainty begins to settle. Of course Ayleth is a witch. Everything started right aftershearrived at the palace. The Nevenwolf. The crows. Papa. I should have guessed. Should have done something when I had the chance. Now it’s far too late.

“We’re going to talk,” Ayleth says at last.

“Talk?” Jacquetta echoes, incredulous. “But she—”

“We can talk,” Ayleth interrupts, putting up a hand to stay the other witch. “Can’t we, Blodwyn?”

I would rather swallow my own tongue than speak with either of them. But I have a decent idea of what will happen if I refuse, and so I grudgingly nod my assent. Ayleth hesitates a moment longer, but then the invisible bindings around my body loosen. I gulp down air, finally able to inhale a real breath and clear my throat to test my voice. I don’t sense that there’s any serious harm done, but my skin still buzzes with the revolting sensation of Ayleth’s magic. I want nothing more than to scrub myself clean of it.

“All right,” Ayleth says, twisting her hands. “Let’s just…sit down for now.”

She heads into the other room and I reluctantly follow, terror and rage beating in time with my frantic heartbeat. I perch on my seat near the fire, ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Ayleth is clearly struggling to keep her own panic from showing. But I note how pale she’s become, sitting in her own chair like it’s covered in thorns. Jacquetta remains standing, watching me like I’m a snake about to strike.

“I’m sure you have questions,” Ayleth begins. “Why don’t we start there?”

“I heard everything I need to know: You’rewitches.”

She flinches. I half expect her to deny it. Attempt to convince me that I misunderstood. That her spell was all my imagination. Perhaps she’ll even cast another to erase my memory. But she just sits there, nervously turning one of her rings.

“Yes,” Ayleth admits finally. “We are witches.”

Somehow, hearing her confession only stokes my anger.

“Itrustedyou,” I seethe. “My mother trusted you. And you were just, what? Skulking around the palace, waiting to murder us all? To carry out some version of the witches’ curse?”

“No,” Ayleth insists. “I didn’t come here to kill anyone. And thereisno curse.”

“Because it’s been the two ofyouthe whole time! You used your magic to spell Papa. To steal the throne. And what did you do to Mother? Did you—”

A memory rears up: Ayleth discovering me with the scrying cards in my menagerie. She’d recognized them immediately. Been furious with me for playing with them.Thisis why. Like a fool, I told her where I’d found them. I sent Ayleth right to Mother’s door.

“It was you,” I breathe. “You killed Mother.”

Ayleth’s eyes widen. “What? No, I—”