Page 195 of The Witch Queen

“So you’ve wrecked this, too,” Sindony comments dryly. “How typical.”

She’s right,that voice needles me.You could never have succeeded.

I clench my fists against it.

“But the mirror…” This time it’s Joan who speaks. She’s been quiet for so long that I nearly forgot she was with us. “At the palace, you said the king is still tied to it. What happens if it breaks? Would he die?”

“That’s whatshouldhappen,” I confirm. “Why?”

Joan beams. “Because ifwehave the mirror, then the king will have to cooperate with us. We can force him to use the army to defeat Cassandra.”

“Spirits,” Jacquetta mutters. “She’s right.”

She is. Leave it to Joan to be the one to solve everything. Except…

“The mirror is still at the palace,” I point out. “How can we—”

I look to Roland, who instantly guesses my thoughts.

“Oh aye,” he huffs, sulking. “Me again, is it? Just ask Roland.Hedoesn’t mind sticking out his own neck for a witch’s insane plans. Heenjoysa good whiff of death now and then.”

“Please,” I beg. “There’s no other way.”

“Well, you best think of one,” he says. “Because I’m not going back there. Not with the king awake and—”

“I’ll go.”

All attention pivots to Blodwyn.

“No,” I say at once. “It’s far too dangerous. If Callen finds you—”

“He’s not looking for me,” she says. There’s a touch of resentment in her words. “And I know the servants’ passages better than anyone. I can retrieve the mirror while the rest of you prepare to seize the palace.”

Every scrap of my common sense rebels against this plan, and not only because it risks Blodwyn’s life. Despite how far I’ve come with the princess, doubts still swarm in my mind.

She will betray you,that incessant voice echoes.

I recall what Mother said about the prophecy. That Blodwyn will be my death, or I hers. Will she send me to the pyre? I might, if I were in her position. But what if she doesn’t? What if we really can restore an ancient balance? Not just of magic, but of trust?

There’s only one way to find out.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Ayleth

We spend the next few hours strategizing.

After much cajoling, Roland agrees to use his tunnels to get us as close to the palace as he can without alerting the guard. Then Blodwyn will sneak in alone to steal the mirror. Once we have it, I’ll send word to Callen. He’ll cooperate, I assure myself. He won’t gamble with something so important. Even so, I can’t stop dwelling on the myriad ways this plan can fail. Callen aside, it would be easy for Sindony to rally the other witches, or Rycinthia, against us. For Blodwyn to have a change of heart and side with her father. In a few days, I might be back in the White Palace’s dungeons—or worse.

You will burn.

Mother’s warning chases me through the skeletal halls of the Sanctum, where I pace back and forth until I eventually wind up in the library. Has it only been three years since I’ve stood within its walls? The place is a ghost of its former self. I recall the hours I spent here, engrossed in stories about characters I judged so much braver than myself. Or with Jacquetta, the two of us plotting courses to unknown realms. Agonizing lessons with Mother. The night of my Ascension, when I’d fled here, alone and ashamed and desperately seeking a way to bring Rhea back.

Just like then, thunder rumbles over the Sanctum. Rain drips through the leaky windows and the cracks in the stone, puddling on the floor. There aren’t any books, though. Mother destroyed nearly everything when she escaped with the coven. Except…I’m surprised to find that the portrait of Millicent still hangs on the wall opposite the windows. It’s been torn in places, but my ancestress’s face is still recognizable, her eyes, like pools of ink staring down at me. The Bloodstone ring glimmers on her finger. Snippets of Blodwyn’s story resurface. The princess in the tower. The blood on the snow. Did this witch, who wielded such incredible influence over my life, really begin her life as a mortal? If so, what does that mean about magic? Aboutme?

Footsteps startle me out of my tangled thoughts.

Blodwyn halts in the doorway, her expression suggesting that I’m the last person she expected—or desired—to see. That’s no wonder. Not after she learned what I’d done to her father. We haven’t spoken again since the planning meeting and now I’m not sure if Blodwyn is going to throttle me or simply stalk off. But then—