Page 175 of The Witch Queen

“Callen took it, no doubt.”

“Could it be in his chambers?” Joan asks. “We can use the passages to get there.”

Perhaps. But Callen would want the mirror in the safest place possible. Even his chambers might be too exposed. So where would he…

The answer lands in my mind like a stone.

“Ignatius’s lair.”

—

Leaving Margaret’s body behind, we navigate the maze of passages to reach the High Priest’s chambers. In a rare stroke of luck, we’re not followed and don’t seem to have alerted the guards. Still, the air in Ignatius’s lair is thick and charged as we descend the stairs. I can’t shake the feeling of being observed. But perhaps that’s just because I know about Parnell’s visits. Fresh anger crackles in my wrists at the thought of the steward sneaking in and out of this chamber. Learning Ignatius’s secrets. Using his position at court, oneIgave him, to restore Callen to the throne.

You were always going to fail,that voice jeers.

“Ayleth, look,” Jacquetta says, nudging me.

She points across the chamber. Torchlight gleams against the silver glass of my mirror. But any relief I feel at having found it is instantly overtaken by the sense of urgency drumming in my chest. The sooner we get out of here, the better. Nettle meows, agreeing.

“How do you know if she’s in there?” Joan asks as we gather around the thing.

Usually, witches offer their blood to summon a mirror’s occupant, as Mother used to do with her raven. But Callen was always different, appearing at the mere sound of my voice. Or, more often than not, whenever it pleased him. Yet another clue that the king wasn’t fully bound to the glass. And then I recall the instances in which Callen thwarted my instructions, obeying me only so far as the spell compelled him to do so. The truth was staring me in the face for years, but I refused to acknowledge it. But now is not the time to dwell on such matters.

“Margaret?” I venture, placing my hand on the glass. “Are you there?”

The surface remains still for long enough that I start to worry she won’t come. But then the glass eddies and another face begins to materialize. I brace myself for it to be Callen’s. For all this to be over before it’s even started. But then—

“It’s abouttimeyou showed up.” Margaret’s voice lashes through the mirror like a whip. “Get me out of here immediately.”

Relief swells in my chest, even if the duchess is shouting at us.

“This is incredible,” Joan breathes, reaching out a tentative hand to touch the glass.

“Don’t you dare!” Margaret barks.

Nettle hisses at the duchess.

“Enough,” I say. “Stop making a fuss. You’re fine.”

“Fine?” Margaret replies shrilly. “I’m in amirror.”

And she appears to be taking to it about as well as her brother did. I exchange a beleaguered look with Jacquetta.

“We’ll work on that,” I promise, though a not-so-small part of me would like to keep things as they are. “For now, you need to help us locate Blodwyn.”

“How am I supposed to do that? What part of my being trapped behind glass do none of you understand?”

“The glass grants you certain abilities,” I explain, drawing on every ounce of patience I possess. “You can see things. Sense them.”

“Withwhat?”

“Justtry,” I practically beg. “Think of Blodwyn. Let yourself find her.”

Margaret’s expression is dubious, but she finally closes her eyes and concentrates.

“Oh!” she cries out, disgusted. “A crow. Nasty creature!”

“No, it’s all right,” I assure her. “The crow is there to help. Tell it what you want.”