Page 123 of The Witch Queen

But Jacquetta frowns, thoughtful. “I’m not so sure. About the princess, at least. If the creature is using mortal hearts as an anchor, why would she specifically focus on Blodwyn? It was clear enough that anyone’s heart will suffice.”

“Because she hates me,” Blodwyn replies without a beat of hesitation. Her fingers curl away from the page. “And who can blame her, after what my family did? Braxos may have even murdered her himself. No wonder my family is cursed.”

Her jaw sets and, once again, I’m reminded of the young witch I used to be, convinced of my own curse. Terrified of the darkness that dwelled within me.

“There is no curse,” I say to Blodwyn.

“Tell that to the dead princess trying to eat my heart.”

“What happened to her wasn’t your fault,” I insist. “And we won’t let her harm you.”

I’m surprised at how true the words feel, especially since it would be far more advantageous for me to allow the corpse-like princess to finish her work. But, just like on the night of the ball, I find that I cannot simply let Blodwyn fall into the void. The princess, however, doesn’t reply. She drifts back to the shelves and starts sorting through the books again.

“That was kind of you,” Jacquetta comments.

“What did you expect me to say?” I ask. “That we would serve her heart up on a platter?”

“No. But I’m not sure how you plan to keep the promise you just made. If the creature really is eating hearts as a means to bind herself here, banishing her just became much trickier.”

I inwardly curse. Because Jacquetta is correct. If the dead princess was using the Bloodstones or some other object as an anchor, it would be simple enough to destroy it. Buthearts? I can’t murder everyone in Riven just to send her back to her grave.

“We’ll find a way,” I say, as much to myself as to Jacquetta.

“And if we don’t?” Jacquetta presses, leaning closer. “Are we really just going to sit around and wait for her to return? We can’t fight her alone.”

Frustration balls in my chest because I know exactly where she’s going with this conversation. “I’m not involving the Heirs.”

“Oh, but you’ll dig throughthismadness,” she says, gesturing disgustedly at the book.

“You think I’m enjoying it?”

“Of course not. Which is why you need to let me call the Heirs.”

Shadows dart around me, as agitated as I am.

“And then what?” I throw back. “Let them re-establish their hierarchy? The same system you said you wanted to abolish? Or was even that a lie?”

“It wasn’t. But there’snoother way. This is more than—”

“Yes,” I cut her off. “Itismore than me. What do you think happens to creatures like Nox if the Veil is reforged?Youhelped him. Or have you forgotten that already?”

She looks away. I recall the moment in the garden—Jacquetta watching Nox go. For once, the expression on her face wasn’t revulsion or fear, but compassion. She could feel that for more than just my Nevenwolf if she would only try.

“I haven’t forgotten,” she says. “But we’re in over our heads, Ayleth. And when that creature drags herself up from the ground again, do you really think she’ll stop with the princess’s heart? You’ll be next.”

Usurper,the creature’s croaking voice echoes in my ears.

“And you care what happens to me?” I ask.

Jacquetta holds my gaze, the bits of silver standing out in her eyes. It reminds me of the way she used to look at me in the forest, when we were sixteen. And I almost…

“Ayleth.”

Blodwyn’s voice breaks the spell between us.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Just look.”