Page 156 of The Witch Queen

Which means I have to get back to the palace—back to Blodwyn—before it’s too late.

—

The storm follows us for the remainder of the journey. Before the carriage even slows to a full stop in the courtyard, I leap out the door and hurry into the palace, a single thought looping through my mind:Find Blodwyn.

Our last argument haunts me. I’d been so cruel to her. Pushed her aside for my own power. Left her alone and helpless with Margaret.

You don’t care,that voice insists.

Right now, nothing could be further from the truth.

“Your Majesty!” Master Parnell intercepts us in the front hall. “Is something amiss? You were supposed to send word and—” He stops short when he registers Jacquetta. “What is she—”

“She’s with me,” I interrupt, yanking off my rain-soaked cloak and flinging it at a servant. “And we couldn’t send word. There was an ambush. Most of our party was killed.”

“An ambush?” It’s not often that I see shock on my steward’s expression. “How—”

“Later. Where’s the princess?”

Master Parnell blinks. “I’m not certain, Your Majesty. There was an incident and Her Highness fled. The guards said they saw her riding away from the palace on the stag, of all things. They’re out looking for her now.”

Thestag? Jacquetta and I exchange a worried look.

“What about Margaret?” I ask.

“I believe the duchess is in her rooms,” he replies. “But why—”

“Send word to the guards. The duchess is not to leave the palace under any circumstances. And double the number searching for Blodwyn.”

Because I’m not entirely convinced that Margaret dispatched a party at all. The creature might be lurking nearby. Dread pools in my belly. I have to find her—now.

The servants wisely veer out of our path as Jacquetta and I hurry through the corridors. I don’t even knock once we reach Margaret’s rooms and barge inside. The duchess is seated at a table near the fire, sifting through stacks of papers.

“It’s the middle of the night,” she says, annoyed. “What on earth do you—”

She stops short when she spots us. And the look on her face is all the confirmation I need that my theory is the right one—or at least near enough.

“Your Majesty,” Margaret says, dropping the papers and rising. “You’ve returned.”

“Are you surprised?” I ask. “Perhaps you assumed your creature had slaughtered us by now.”

“Mycreature?” she asks. Margaret is a good actress, I’ll give her that. But not good enough. Not anymore.

“You remember,” I go on, “from the ball? And at the hunt? Whenyousummoned it.”

She scoffs. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Ayleth. I don’t—”

“I know,” I say, stepping closer. “I know your secret. The reason you were banished from the palace. Why every trace of you was scrubbed from the royal records. You may not be a witch, but you were dabbling in some form of power. You used it to bring the creature here. Planned to use it to kill me, the witches, even Blodwyn. All soyoucould take the throne.”

Margaret just stands there, the wheels behind her eyes spinning.

“The witches,” she says at last, “are dead. All of them?”

All?What does she mean by that? I glance at Jacquetta, but she just shakes her head.

“Probably,” I reply. “We didn’t stay to keep count. Why does it matter?”

A muscle in Margaret’s jaw feathers. Thunder claps outside. The duchess goes to the fire, backlit by the glow of the flames.