Page 203 of The Witch Queen

“Thiswitchhas been hiding in our midst for a long time,” the king goes on. “Some of you may recall how she made her way into the palace—disguised as a Sister of the Order, one that my late wife was kind enough to invite into her service. And look how she was repaid.”

Callen rises, his boots thudding on the floor as he takes slow, deliberate steps in my direction. I feel the crowd shift behind me.

“This imposter would have you believe that she rescued me from the High Priest,” Callen says. “Thathewas the witch among us. But it was the usurper queen who broke the Veil. Who released Malum into our realm. Spelled me into doing her bidding. Just as the witches ensorcelled Braxos all those years ago.”

My fists clench at the mention of the Order’s greatest lie. The one they built their entire farce of a faith upon and used to justify the murder of witches. Even now, the mutterings and whispers intensify as the court drinks this in. The last vestiges of my power scream a warning. But there’s nothing that can be done.

“Were it not for Master Parnell, I might still be lying in that bed, victim to my supposedaccidentat the joust,” Callen starts again. “My sister, however, was not as lucky.”

He gestures to one side and Margaret drifts out from behind the thrones. The court cries out as her silver eyes sweep over the room.

“That wasn’t me,” I say, unable to keep the words back.

“Can you prove your innocence?” Callen smirks.

I glare back at him, fuming.

“Kill her, Sire!” someone shouts.

“Yes! Burn the witch!”

I dig my fingernails into my sister’s mark. But Rhea cannot help me. No one can. I can almost feel the heat of the flames grazing my skin.

“Now, now.” Callen motions for silence. “The imposter’s fate is my daughter’s to decide. This is the princess’s final trial, after all.”

Thetrial? He can’t be serious. I look to Blodwyn, but she just shakes her head.

“Papa,” she attempts. “This isn’t—”

“And after Blodwyn has finished with the pretender queen,” Callen speaks over her, “we’ll start on the rest of you.”

His voice drops, venomous, and every hair on my body rises. And that’s when I know: This isn’t actually part of the trials. Callen has devised his own game.

“Majesty…” Weston ventures forth. He must have been pulled from his bed—or someone else’s—for his doublet is crookedly fastened, exposing his linen shift beneath. “Surely you don’t meanallof us.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Callen replies. “Or did you assume I was unaware of what occurred in this palace during my…indisposition?”

The tension in the room thickens. Fabric rustles as courtiers shift, their uneasy whispers running in currents through the hall.

“Your Majesty.” This time, it’s Lord Warbeck who speaks. “If you would only—”

“I know everything,” Callen barks. “The parties, where you were all happy to drinkmywine and eatmyfood in my absence. Happy to let awitchrule in my place. She didn’t even have to spell you, like Margaret here. You were all simply greedy and stupid enough to obey her.”

I feel rather than see the audience move closer together, as if that could shield them from Callen’s wrath.

“Andthen,” Callen continues, “you schemed to overthrow me while I still breathed. Celebrated doing so with these ludicrous trials. You planned them yourself, didn’t you, Weston?”

The Lord of Misrule pales. “Well, I…I certainly never meant—”

“No, you never mean anything, do you? Not even friendship.” Callen pauses. Clenches his fist, one of the few times I’ve seen him express real emotion. “But no matter. This is as much my trial as my daughter’s. And you areallabout to taste the sort of justice I serve.”

At his signal, the doors swing wide. Dozens of guards tromp intothe hall, armor rattling. But it’s not the sight of their weapons that makes my next breath catch. It’s what they’re carrying. Each guard holds amirror.And I can tell from the glass exactly what kind of mirror it is.

“Are those…” I begin, stunned. “How did you…”

“Ididn’t,” Callen replies, thoroughly pleased with himself. “The Dwarves were more than happy to comply withyourrequest to remake the mirrors. After all, they would do anything for the queen who freed them.”

My request? But I didn’t…