Page 185 of The Witch Queen

“You’ve come home,” Mother says. “Just as I knew you would.”

Shadows undulate in the far corners of the cloister. Shade materializes from their depths, his crimson eyes glowing. Nox growls at his former companion, his hackles raising. But I signal for him to wait. For now.

“Mother,” I attempt, stepping protectively in front of the princess. “Please. Let Blodwyn go. Whatever you want with her—”

“WhateverIwant?” A corner of Mother’s mouth lifts. “She’s foryou,Daughter. All of this is for you. Including them.”

Them?Wind whines through the decaying stone. Mother beckons and then several figures emerge from the shadows. Panic grips me, worried that she’s captured Jacquetta and the others. But then I register the familiar shine of green eyes.Divinereyes.

“Sindony?”

The other witch struggles against the dark ropes of shadow wound tightly around her. And she’s not alone. Three more, who I assume to be witches, are dragged out alongside the Second, all of them similarly bound.

“What’s going on?” I demand. “What are they doing here?”

“As I said, they’re for you,” Mother replies. “I saved them for you as a gift. They’re yours to punish. A fitting end, given their treachery.”

Punish?My pulse kicks up as comprehension dawns: Mother must have captured Sindony at the attack on the other Sanctum. Who knows where she found the others. She’s been holding them here. Torturing them, probably. Exactly like Ignatius used to do with his own victims. Sindony’s gaze locks with mine, all her haughty superiority replaced with terror.

Mother really has lost her senses.

“But you can deal with them soon enough,” she goes on. “After we finish matters with the princess.”

The ribbon of dread between my ribs winds tighter.

“Mother, please,” I beg. “Whatever you have planned—”

“This isn’tmyplan,” she interrupts, a hint of impatience in her tone. “It’s yours. You set this into motion the moment you broke the Veil. The moment you took your first heart.”

Initially, I assume she means Callen, but she doesn’t. She means her own. Her latent heart of magic. A memory of that night flashes back: Mother crumpled on the ground before me, begging for mercy. Shadeoffering me the orb of her power. Even now, my former Huntsman’s eyes gleam—but there is no remorse in them. Only hunger.

“That was a mistake,” I say. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t doubt yourself now,” Mother cuts me off. Steps closer. “It may have taken me some time to realize it, but I owe you a debt for that night. Because once I was free of the covens’ magic, I could discover my real power. A power that can be yours as well.”

Much as I try to resist it, desire flickers within me. The dregs of my own wounded power expand, as if reaching for such an idea. But I shove them down.

“I don’t want it.”

Mother merely arches an eyebrow. “Then why are you here, Ayleth?”

“For Blodwyn. She—”

“Will kill you,” Mother says. “She’s the last of the line of White. She will be your death, or you hers. Don’t you understand? Your fates are intertwined.”

Just as with Callen. That place on my left ribs where I used to feel the pull of the king trembles slightly. I look back at Blodwyn, her lips a stark red against her pale skin. Her dark hair spread around her.

“She’s just a girl.”

“A girl who will become a queen if you do not stop her,” Mother continues, drawing even nearer. Nox growls a warning. “Butyouare the queen, Daughter. Thetruequeen. And there is one final piece of the prophecy left to fulfill.”

Theprophecy.Would that I never heard those wretched words.

“This isn’t—”

“A beating heart must she drown,” Mother recites, ignoring me, “if she is to wear the crimson crown.”

She smiles at me, all teeth. Then, before I can comprehend what’s happening, Mother moves to the nearest captive and plunges her hand into the witch’s chest. The other witch screams, raw and guttural. There’s a gruesome tearing sound as Mother’s hand resurfaces, the witch’s still-beating heart clutched in her grip. My stomach roils, bileclimbing up my throat as Mother raises the witch’s heart to her lips, just as she did with the Follower’s heart at the ball, and sinks her teeth into the flesh. Blood dribbles down her chin and neck.