Page 182 of The Witch Queen

The duchess throws him a scathing look.

“Try to show us,” I prompt Margaret. “Think of what you see and shift it to the glass.”

She frowns, but—for once—doesn’t argue. After a few moments of concentration, another scene appears. Surprise jolts through me. Margaret is right. Itisa rotted-out building in the middle of nowhere. Moonlight shines on the cracked and decaying walls. The half-tumbled tower, its uneven stones like crooked teeth.

“Stonehaven,” I murmur, sharing a look with Jacquetta.

“Where is this?” Tilda asks.

“It’s my old Sanctum,” I explain. “Where I grew up.”

“Why would Cassandra have taken her there?” Jacquetta asks.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “Whatever the reason, we need to get to her quickly. A witch might have weeks under a midnight flower draught. But Blodwyn…days, maybe.”

“When did you leave her here?” Joan asks Roland.

He scrubs the back of his neck. “Just yesterday.”

A sense of dread settles over us. I pick up the half-eaten apple, the purple stain in the center spreading outward like blood. BloodIspilled.

“Wait.” Joan snatches the apple out of my hand. “This is the poison?”

“Yes, but—”

“Roland,” she hurries on. “Do you have comfrey and feverfew?”

He frowns. “What do you want those for?”

“I think we do,” Tilda says, nudging him. “In the garden.”

“Or what’s left of it,” Roland mutters.

“Good. I might be able to use some of the remaining poison for an antidote,” Joan explains. “If I begin now, it can be finished by morning.”

A tendril of hope unspools in my chest. Except—

“Stonehaven is nearly two weeks away. By the time we reach the Sanctum, Blodwyn will be past help. Unless…”

My attention turns to Roland. Comprehension dawns in his gemstone-colored eyes and he crosses his arms. “Oh aye. Suppose that’ll be me, then?”

“Your tunnels are our only chance.”

“And why should I endanger my life every time you—”

“Rollie,” Tilda scolds. “The princess needs us. This is the least we can do.”

Roland grumbles something under his breath. “Fine.”

“It’s settled, then,” Joan says. “We’ll leave as soon as the antidote is ready.”

The rest of the table continues talking among themselves, sorting out the details of the plan. But my gaze tracks out the window and to the forest beyond, picturing Stonehaven among the trees, Blodwyn inside it, her life draining away.

And I may not hold with the covens, but I press my thumb into that place on my palm, into the faint lines of my sister’s mark, and beg Rhea to keep the princess safe.

—

As night stretches on, we prepare for the journey. Jacquetta and Roland focus on our weapons supply. I didn’t think it was possible to earn the Dwarf’s respect, but the other witch has clearly done so. The two spend hours discussing the particulars of various daggers and axes. Tilda assists Joan and me with the antidote. But eventually the cottage quiets as everyone else beds down, trying to snatch a few hours of sleep before we head out.