Page 18 of The Witch Queen

Iron.

“Like theironarrows we commissioned?” I press.

“I suppose, but—”

Comprehension lights on Roland’s face. Those weren’t spirits Miranda saw, they were real people. Orwitches.Like the one I glimpsed in the mirror.

There were others,Shade warned. And now I have a pretty good idea of what they were doing.

“We need to get everyone out of here,” I say, urgent. “Rightnow.”

Roland starts for the entrance. “Aye. We’ll—”

The rest is cut off when a drop of the crimson liquid drips from one of the jewels embedded in the ceiling and lands on Roland’s torch. The flameblazes.Roland curses and drops the torch before he’s burned. But it lands in a puddle of the substance, which instantly ignites. Horror flashes in my veins as a wall of fire erupts and spreads hungrily through the cavern.

“RUN!” Roland shouts.

I race for the entrance, dragging Miranda along with me. The three of us barrel through the tunnels, shouting warnings as the roar of the fire chases us. The ground shudders. Stone cracks as stalactites break free from their moorings and shatter on the ground. We barely manage to make it back to the main doors and shove our way out into the forest before the entire Mine collapses.

Chapter Five

Ayleth

The Dwarvian village is buried under a mountain of rubble.

With the help of their magic, most of the Dwarves were able to escape the fire and resulting explosion. But not everyone was so lucky. At least three bodies are pulled from the wreckage before I leave the village. Other survivors wander around, dazed and weeping. Joan stays behind to offer what help she can, but I return to the palace. As my carriage pulls away, I spot Rosemary, huddled with her mother. The sight of her like that, her gemstone-colored eyes filled with fear, is a painful reminder of the night of the Hunt’s raid on Stonehaven. The night my entire world was ripped out from under me. Steely resolve threads down my spine: I am going to make the covenspayfor this.

“Your Majesty. It’s a relief to see that you’re safe.”

Master Parnell bows as I storm into the council chamber. The rest of the members have already gathered. Annoyingly, all men. When I assumed my position as head of the council, I considered appointing a few women, Joan among them. But Parnell advised against such measures. A woman sitting at the head of the table would be shock enough for the nobility, he reasoned. The looks on the councilmen’s faceswhenever I enter the chamber certainly confirm that sentiment. Especially now when I haven’t bothered to bathe or change my gown, the soot from the Mine collapse still crusted over my skin. But my appearance is the least of my worries.

“How bad is it?” I demand.

“The full extent of the damage is difficult to determine,” Parnell replies. “But early reports suggest that multiple Mines were affected.”

He gestures to the table, the surface of which is inlaid with a sprawling map of Riven. Like the one in my chamber, it’s a Dwarvian piece. The Western Mine explosion is already visible, a smoking smudge of black amid the forest. About a dozen other craterlike holes are littered throughout the realm as well, those Mines reduced to nothing but rubble. Fresh rage crackles in my wrists, stirring my power.

“This was Rycinthia. The covens,” I say, earning a nod from my steward. “How did they get through?”

“My spies are working on that,” Parnell replies. “But—”

“It was Darnley,” another council member, Lord Warbeck, chimes in. He’s a middle-aged man with brown skin and a neatly combed mustache and beard. His bright, amber-colored eyes, which have always reminded me of a falcon’s, gleam. “Using his estate to allow Rycinthians to slip across the border. The witches as well, I suppose.”

“Darnley?” I ask.

My attention travels to the area of the map where Darnley’s estate rests, nestled in the mountains between our two realms. It’s a location that’s been essential in holding Rycinthia back throughout the war. Or so I believed.

“Nothing has been proven yet,” Parnell insists.

Warbeck barks a laugh. “From what I’ve heard, he’s already turned tail and escaped. What moreproofdo you need?”

“He’s right,” another man agrees. “It was a bad idea to give someone like Darnley such a position. He was always self-serving.”

Such could be said of most of the members of court, especially those in this room. Darnley’s estate was once held by a more establishednoble family. But there were rumors that they were gathering their own troops to challenge the throne. And so, on Parnell’s advice, I gave the lands and title to Darnley instead.

A mistake,that voice whispers.You always make mistakes.

From the direction of the mirrors, I swear that I hear Callen’s laughter.