Page 117 of The Witch Queen
I roll my shoulders against it and knock on Joan’s door, bracing myself for the torture of another planning meeting. One that may have started without me, though, for no one answers. I let myself into the main room. Voices carry from Joan’s study.
“We cannot stay here,” someone says.
I pause, peeking through the slit in the door. Anora and Joan are standing together at the window, hands clasped. Dull winter sunlight spills over them, lighting up the threads of gold in Joan’s auburn hair.
“We cannot leave,” she protests.
“Why not? The palace isn’t safe anymore. Even you must see that.”
Anora isn’t the only courtier planning their exit. I heard that the roads leading away from the city are jammed with travelers fleeing the threat of the creature’s return. Those who remain are clamoring forthe trials’ immediate continuation, as they’re convinced that the new ruler will rescue Riven.
Someone who is not you,that voice again.
“I’m sorry,” Joan says. She slowly disentangles herself from Anora’s grasp. “I have to remain at court. Ayleth needs me.”
“I need you,” Anora says, her voice thick with emotion. “Iloveyou.”
“Then I hope you’ll wait for me.”
A long moment stretches between them.
“I’m not sure I can promise that,” Anora says at last.
She waits, perhaps hoping for Joan to say something. But there’s only silence. Anora nods, then swipes the tears from her eyes and makes for the door. I pull my shadows around me as she passes. Joan sinks into a chair, her own shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. That old wound in my heart opens and oozes on her behalf. But perhaps it’s better this way. At least now Joan can be sure of Anora’s true feelings. How much heartbreak would I have avoided if I understood the same about Jacquetta? I ignore the ache in my chest and step into the study, letting my shadows fall away.
“Ayleth.” Joan straightens. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough,” I tell her. “I’m sorry. I was coming for our meeting and I overheard.”
“The meeting,” Joan says, blinking. “Right. I nearly forgot.”
“We can—”
“No, no,” she says, pulling her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbing at her face. “There’s no time to put it off. And I suppose there’s not much to explain about Anora.”
“I really am sorry. I know how much you cared for her.”
“Love,” Joan corrects, a rare edge to her voice. “I didn’t just care for her, I love her. Still. Those feelings don’t just vanish. No matter how much you might wish them to.”
Joan’s words strike an uncomfortable chord inside me.
“You’re upset. We’ll reschedule,” I say, already turning around.
“Wait,” she calls after me. “I shouldn’t be snapping at you. And I’mglad you’re here. I’ve been desperate to speak with you about the ball.What happened? Was it actually the covens?”
I pause. Of course Joan assumes the witches were responsible for the attack—everyone else at court does. And part of me wants to correct her, but what’s the point? I can’t tell her about Princess Matilda’s story without risking the rumor spreading. And I certainly don’t need Margaret sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.
“It must have been,” I say instead.
Joan is quiet for a moment, frowning down at her papers.
“Then I think I owe you an apology,” she says at last.
My brow furrows. “An apology?”
“For doubting you,” Joan explains. “All this time, I wanted to believe there was a way to reconcile with the covens, but you were right. Between the attacks on the Mines and now this…the witches are too far gone. I should have listened to you a long time ago. Maybe if we’d been more aggressive at the start of the war, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
I blink, genuinely surprised. I’ve been waiting for three years for Joan to take my side regarding the war. And if she can be swayed about this matter, perhaps she can be convinced about Malum as well. Still…my victory isn’t as satisfying as I expected. Because the covensaren’tresponsible for the creature. And this is yet another lie I’m adding to the pile. The weight of my own deception presses down on me, heavier than it’s ever been.
