Page 196 of The Witch Queen

“Someone told me the library was in here,” she says, scanning the chamber.

“Oh,” I say, awkward. “It was, but…you won’t find any books. Mother burned most of our things when she abandoned the Sanctum.”

“Your mother,” Blodwyn repeats. “You mean the creature who wants to eat my heart?”

Damn. Heat prickles up the back of my neck. Yet another conversation I was hoping to avoid. Because what can I possibly say to explain Mother’s part in all this?

“Yes,” I say, twisting my hands. “I was as surprised as you were to learn what she’s…well, all of it. I assumed she was dead.”

Blodwyn makes a noise in her throat. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so shocked. From what I’ve come to understand, your family has something of a habit of resurrecting themselves.”

A valid observation, I suppose.

Thunder cracks outside, swiftly followed by a strike of lightningthat illuminates the painting of Millicent. Blodwyn notices it and steps closer.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” she asks. “Millicent.”

“You recognize her?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Blodwyn returns. “I met her. Unless you still believe I was making it all up.”

“I never thought that,” I say. She just huffs, unconvinced. “Really. I won’t pretend to understand all that occurred, but I believe it happened. Hearing Rhea’s words was enough to prove that.”

I study the portrait again. How many other secrets was my ancestress keeping? Wind howls through the bones of the Sanctum.

“Well, in any case, I suppose I owe you my thanks for taking my side in there,” Blodwyn says at last, motioning the direction of the Great Hall.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say quietly. “Not after…”

“After you cut out Papa’s heart and stuffed it in a mirror?”

Ah—that. The anxiety in my chest winds tighter. Blodwyn finally faces me.

“When were you planning on sharing that with me?” she asks. “Seeing as you agreed that we wouldn’t keep secrets anymore?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

She shakes her head. “I see. And do you even regret what you did to him?”

I pause, debating how to answer. There weremanyinstances when I wished I’d never bound Callen’s heart. But I suspect not for the reasons Blodwyn is insinuating.

“No,” I say, shrinking at feeling so exposed. “I don’t. Not all of it.”

The princess is quiet for a long while. Thunder rattles the windowpanes. I brace myself for her anger. Maybe she reallywilltry to strangle me. Instead, Blodwyn just frowns.

“Aunt Margaret said the same thing,” she says at last.

My brow furrows. “Your aunt?”

“I spoke with her earlier.”

The duchess was present during the latter part of our planning meeting. I expected that Blodwyn would be horrified to learn that her aunt was trapped in a mirror, but she accepted the situation in stride. Then again, I suppose Margaret’s fate is no more fantastical than any of the other events of the past day.

“I didn’t cutherheart out,” I venture, as though that could possibly excuse anything.

“She told me,” Blodwyn replies. “Along with everything else: all her plans and why she really pushed me to call the trials. She insisted that she never intended to hurt me. But she also didn’t regret attempting to reclaim her power.”

Perhaps Margaret and I were far more similar than I ever believed. Both of us desperate to carve our place in a world set against us. Both of us harming those around us—and ourselves—in the process. And yet…how much of the last years would I take back? I’m not sure.