Page 183 of The Witch Queen

“Where did you learn to do this?” I ask Joan.

It’s just the two of us now, tending the simmering liquid.

“My life at court was more than just parties, you know,” she answers primly. “I told you that I’ve been studying to be a healer.”

She did. In fact, I encouraged her lessons, but I didn’t realize that she possessed such skill—almost as good as a Blessed. “I suppose there was much that I missed over the past years.”

Joan makes a noise of agreement. “You’re not the only one.”

And I know without asking what she means—the power I’ve been hiding from her. I fidget with the array of instruments.

“I lied to you,” I tell her. “And I don’t blame you for being angry with me. But you never would have accepted my power if you knew what it really was.”

“I suppose we’ll never know,” Joan replies. “You didn’t give me the chance to do anything. Not with you, and certainly not with Riven.”

“With Riven?” I ask, puzzled.

“How many times did I request a place on the council?” she goes on. “Or for you to at least consider my ideas? I must have brought you a dozen plans in those first months—converting the old Sanctums into schools. Or my other initiatives to help the impoverished. Every time, you told me they were impossible. Eventually, I stopped asking.”

Because I’ve only been focused on eliminating the covens. Because IwantedRiven punished. What good has that really done?

“I shouldn’t have excluded you,” I say softly. “For that, Iamsorry.”

She finally looks at me. “I appreciate that.”

“And I appreciate you remaining at court,” I add, meaning it. “Especially after what happened with Anora. I don’t have to be a Diviner to guess that I’m the real reason she left.”

Joan is quiet for a few moments.

“Even if you were,” she begins at last, “I obviously wasn’t enough of a reason for her to stay. That tells me everything I need to know.”

Her words resonate in a place deep inside me.

“Do you think there’s any coming back from this?” I ask Joan.

She stirs the antidote, thoughtful.

“I don’t want to go back,” she says. “But I would like to go through.”

“How do we do that?”

“I may not be a witch,” she continues carefully. “But it’s as I told you: Love is the most powerful magic I know. If there’s a way to the other side, it’s with that.”

She says that like it’s easy.

“What love could possibly be strong enough to mend what I’ve broken?”

“Perhaps it’s not about mending,” Joan replies. “But remaking.”

I consider that, a new Riven. The wounds of the past stitched back together. Scarred, but healed. Could such a place exist? I look over at Jacquetta, asleep on the other side of the cottage. Nox is curled beside her. For an instant, I think I might see the flash of blue of her eyes.

But then it’s gone.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Ayleth

Stonehaven looms like a sleeping beast in the night.