Page 118 of The Witch Queen

“I suppose we’ll never know,” I say, swallowing back my guilt.

Joan just sighs. “And what are we going to do now? What could possibly defeat such a monster?”

I lift a shoulder, as I would give anything to be able to answer that question.

“Theoretically, if I knew what’s holding it here, I could banish the creature,” I say. “But such an anchor would have to be powerful magic—like the Bloodstones used to be.”

“Thatthingcan’t be using those,” Joan reasons.

“No,” I agree. So how else—

A thought drops like a stone into my mind. The last time I witnessed someone be pulled from beyond the Veil was on the night Ignatius summoned Rhea.

Which means I know where we need to start searching for answers.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Blodwyn

After two days in seclusion, the walls of my chambers are beyond suffocating. Even in my menagerie, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, like there were eyes staring out at me from every corner. And that was nothing compared to my dreams. Every time I tried to sleep, I saw the lost princess clawing her way out of the darkness. Her hand plunging into the Follower’s chest and tearing out his heart, just as she vowed to do to me.

You will pay the price,her haunting voice echoes in my ears.

“Blodwyn!” Verity hurries over to me as I make my way through the halls. I left my rooms the moment the guards permitted it. “I was so worried about you. I tried to at least send a note, but they wouldn’t allow it.”

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Really. What about you?”

“No harm done,” she says, waving me off. “Though that awful Master Parnell questioned me and Mother for hours. He even wanted to know what we had for breakfast the morning of the ball. As if we might have been hiding Followers in our porridge.”

She rolls her eyes. I don’t envy her, counting myself lucky that the crow-like steward didn’t bother with me. “Do you know if they found anything?”

“I assume not,” she replies. “I was hopingyouhad information.”

I shake my head. I don’t know anything. At least not anything more than what I shared with Ayleth.

Who is awitch.

The secret has been spinning around in my brain for days. After the initial shock had worn off, I found that I wasn’t totally surprised. Maybe I didn’t guess that Ayleth was a witch, but I sensed that she was different. Her uniqueness was part of the reason I warmed to her. Part of the reasonMothertrusted her. And, though she could never show her true feelings, I knew that Mother was sympathetic to the covens. I heard her and Papa arguing about the war on several occasions, Mother always begging him for peace. What wouldshewant me to do in this situation?

Several courtiers glide past us, not even bothering to hide their stares. Farther down the hall, I spot Elinor and Constance. They freeze when they catch me looking at them, then abruptly hurry off in the opposite direction.

“I take it you’ve heard what they’re saying?” Verity nods toward the retreating courtiers.

“Not all of it.”

But enough to gather that the court seems to be as petrified of me as it was of the lost princess. And that there are plenty in the palace who would be happy to let the corpse-like Matilda feast on my heart if it means saving themselves.

Cursed,that voice hisses.

“Vultures,” Verity mutters. “And they have another think coming if they assume I’m just going to let them hand you over to…whateverthat was.”

A smile twitches at my lips, picturing Verity bludgeoning the lost princess with a pall-mall mallet. And she wasn’t the only person who defended me. A memory rushes up: Gavin shooting at the creature. Warning her to stay away from me.

“Have you heard anything about Gavin?” I ask, attempting to keep my tone casual.

Verity grins. “Oh, are youconcernedabout him?”

“No,” I say. “It’s just…he was injured during the attack.”