Page 186 of The Witch Queen

“I’ll admit that it’s a bit grotesque at first,” she says, her lips slick and stained garnet. “But well worth the power within.”

Within.A memory surges up: the book Jacquetta found, where Ignatius had drawn the diagram of the heart with its golden center. We guessed that the creature—Mother—was using hearts as an anchor, but we were wrong.

“Thisis the source of your magic?” I ask, horrified. “You’re eating witches’ hearts?”

“Not just witches,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Dwarves. Animals. Even mortals carry a form of latent magic, crude though it is. And such power isoursfor the taking. Like plucking apples from a tree.”

All I can do is gape at her.Mortals?Dwarves?I recall Jacquetta’s stories of the animals found with their hearts removed. Roland, who told me that Miranda left the village. But she didn’t leave.Motherhunted her down.

“This is the missing piece,” Mother goes on, lifting the ragged remains of the dead witch’s heart. “All you have to do is be brave enough to take it.”

She gestures behind me, at Blodwyn’s sleeping form, and understanding hits in a rush.

“You want me to…” I trail off, the words too awful to speak aloud.

“The princess’s heart is the key to your ultimate power,” Mother continues. “With her death, you seal our ancestress’s vengeance. I suspect you’re aware of that, on some level. After all, you’ve contemplated taking her heart before.”

A chill shivers down my spine. How long has she been watchingme?

“That was only because—”

“It was the prophecy,” Mother interrupts, the crown glaring red in the firelight. “Pulling you toward your destiny. You resisted it then, butyou cannot resist it any longer. Eitheryouare her death, orsheis yours. There is no other path.”

Mother slips something from the folds of her cloak.

A silver blade. Recognition jolts through me at the sight of the jewels embedded in its handle. It’s the knife of Ascension. The last time I held it was when I faced the flames of my own Ascension fire, oblivious to the destiny that lay in front of me. A destiny that may not yet be complete. But itcouldbe.

“Go ahead,” Mother says. “Finish this. Be the witch I know you are.”

She offers me the knife. I glimpse a sliver of my own reflection on its blade.

Take it,Shade rasps, his shadows dancing around him.Join us.

That hungry instinct rears again, urging me to obey. Return to the shadows. Give myself entirely over to Malum and the world I built. But would it be enough? If I take Blodwyn’s heart, seal the prophecy, I might be the most powerful witch living, but who would be beside me? Mother, perhaps. And Shade. But not Jacquetta. Not Blodwyn. I watch the sleeping princess, the poison webbing through her veins. I used to consider her almost like my sister. Like Rhea. Why had I stopped? What would my own sister want me to do now?

I press my thumb into the faint triangle on my palm. Rhea’s mark. And the answer forms immediately. Perhaps I cannot save Mother, or even myself, but there’s one person I can help.

Without giving myself a moment to hesitate, I snatch up the knife, tighten my grip on the hilt, and drive it into Mother’s chest.

She howls, foul-smelling blood spurting from the wound. Shade and the shadows swarm around Mother, shoving me backward. My former Huntsman advances on me, his crimson eyes glinting with fury. Nox leaps between us, his massive teeth bared.

“So,” Mother gasps out. “You would destroy your own blood. Reject the power I offer you. And for what? A mortal princess? Or is it Nerissa’s brat again?”

“You’re not my blood,” I tell her, lifting my chin. “Not anymore. And I care about them more than I ever cared about you.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, I feel their truth. I loved Mother once. And perhaps she loved me, too. But when she couldn’t mold me into the witch she desired, she hated what she saw. And that hatred rooted deep inside her. Poisoned her. And I realize now more than ever that the witch I used to know—the one who sat beside me after a nightmare or pressed the flowers I brought her from the forest—is gone. All that remains is a monster.

Mother holds my gaze. Cold comprehension settles over her expression.

“Fine,” she spits. “If you will not claim your place, I will.”

She retrieves the knife from where it fell and stalks toward Blodwyn.

“Leave her alone!” I shout.

Nox bounds forward, but Shade blocks him. Mother is steps away from Blodwyn now, her arm raised to—

The fire explodes, sparks raining outward. The ground quakes, loose stones tumbling down from the higher floors. Several figures vault over the low walls of the cloister. My breath catches—it’s Jacquetta. The fire must have been her doing. And it was enough to sever the shadows’ hold on the witches. Sindony and the rest of the prisoners waste no time, spells flying in all directions. I fumble for the vial in my pocket and sprint back to Blodwyn.