Page 202 of The Witch Queen
In any case, all thoughts of Gavin fade as we reach the flame-like doors leading to the former High Priest’s chambers. I ease them openslowly, ears tuned for the sound of movement within. There’s only silence, which is somehow more unsettling. If the mirror is here, why didn’t Papa station a guard? Has he moved it? I hope not. We don’t have time to search the rest of the palace.
“No wonder this place was boarded up,” Verity whispers as we follow Nettle through the maze of the High Priest’s chambers. “It gives me a horrible feeling.”
“Just wait until you see what’s underneath it,” I add darkly.
The wardrobe waits on the far wall of the bedchamber. I start to make my way over to it and locate the hidden door within, but Nettle meows, winding herself around my ankles.
“Watch out,” I warn, nearly tripping over her. She just trills and puts herself back in my path. “What’s the matter with you?”
I finally manage to nudge her away. But as soon as I touch the wardrobe door, the mark on my handsearswith pain. Nettle growls and flattens her ears as the wardrobe bursts open from the inside. A figure waits within, his black robes rippling like shadow.
“Princess,” Master Parnell says. “Welcome home. We’ve been expecting you.”
—
What seems the whole of the White Court is gathered in the throne room.
Verity hadn’t gone easily, thrashing and threatening the entire way from Ignatius’s secret chambers. But I remained quiet, the weight of my failure dragging me down like a wet cloak. How did Papa know I was here? Has he captured the others? But those questions, and all other thoughts, drain away as soon as I spot Papa himself. He sits on his throne, one leg crossed over the other. And even though Ayleth told me he was awake, there’s something jarring about the sight of him. Unnatural. Because it’s as if no time at all has passed. As if Papa was never ill or injured. His once sallow, waxy skin glows with health. His too-thin frame is filling out again. Even the jagged scar on his face has all but healed. But most disturbing of all is the way Papa’s gray eyes gleamas they lock with mine. It is the same look I’d seen Aunt Margaret wear every time she won at cards. My nerves hum.
“Daughter,” he says. “It’s a relief to see you safely returned. We were all so worried.”
He gestures to the rest of the room and it’s only then that I notice the details of the chamber, which is once again decorated as if for a celebration. White roses hang in garlands or loll out of huge vases. Ribbons of white and gold are woven around the gallery of the upper story. The air is thick with the scent of wine and food. But no one is partaking in it. In fact, none in the audience appear as though they’re attending a party at all. They look as though they dressed in a rush, pins sticking out of their hair. Sleeves unfastened and doublets open. They cluster close together, anxious. Andafraid,I register.
It still doesn’t seem right…
Verity’s words resurface and I find the other young woman’s gaze in the crowd. She appears as terrified and bewildered as the others.
“What is this?” I ask Papa.
“It’s for you, of course,” he replies, smiling. “Or did you think I’d forget about your final trial?”
Mytrial? But Verity said they were canceled.
“It took me some time to decide what your judgment should be,” Papa goes on. “But I think I’ve landed on the perfect answer. Bring in the prisoner!”
Gasps ricochet around the chamber as the guards haul someone else through the huge doors. I turn and dread spiders over my scalp.
It’s Ayleth.
Chapter Sixty
Ayleth
Failed,that voice taunts.You have failed.
It has never been louder than it is now, as I’m dragged forward and dumped unceremoniously on the floor in front of Callen, who lounges on his throne, grinning at me. Blodwyn stands at her father’s side, stiff and pale. She appears to be unharmed, though, which loosens some of the tension in my chest. The same likely can’t be said for Jacquetta and the rest of the witches. Callen’s guards were waiting for us as soon as we emerged from Roland’s tunnels. They arrested me right away, so I have no idea what happened to the others. Are they in the dungeons, waiting for their turn on the pyre? Or did Callen simply order them slaughtered on the spot?
I curse myself again for being such a reckless fool.
“Papa,” Blodwyn attempts, her voice wavering. “This isn’t necessary. Ayleth…”
“Is awitch.”
The word slinks through the chamber, chased by cries of alarm and shock. My heart beats harder and I lock eyes with Blodwyn. Her own are wide and wild.
“That’s right,” Callen continues, addressing the audience. “I was as outraged as you are to learn the truth about our so-called queen. ButI’m afraid the evidence is simply too overwhelming to ignore. These, for example, were discovered in her chambers.”
He snaps his fingers. Parnell, the duplicitous snake, slithers from the fringes of the crowd and displays several books. Ignatius’s grimoires, I register dully. But I don’t even bother attempting to defend myself. Callen can say whatever he likes and the court will believe him.
