Page 205 of The Witch Queen

“Do you?” Callen mocks. “Tell me, Daughter. Has she apologized? Confessed her sins? Perhaps. But can you ever really trust a word out of her mouth?”

“I can’t trust you, either,” Blodwyn retorts.

I expect Callen to lash out at her for that, but he merely smiles. “But I could earn that trust. We’re the same now, the two of us. Touched by power. Let’s test it together.”

“You’ve never been interested in me before,” she throws back, bitter. “All you’ve ever wanted is a son.”

“Yes,” he says, thoughtful. “But at least I was honest about that. Unlikeher.All those years of lies and deceit. Think about who she is, Blodwyn. All that she’s done to you. What shewilldo if given the chance. We can stop her. Now.”

The seconds stretch out, long and thick. I’m barely aware of the rest of the court, still clustered behind me. Callen removes the knife from the box and nudges it into Blodwyn’s hand.

“Be my heir,” he tells her. “Better than any son could ever be.”

At that, her gaze snaps to his and I know that I’ve lost. How oftenhad I hoped my own mother would utter the same words to me? Blodwyn grips the knife so hard that her knuckles whiten. Perhaps Mother was right all along, I register dully. This is the prophecy. Blodwyn will be my death. Maybe it’s a fitting end for me, after everything.

A beat passes. Two. I grit my back teeth, bracing for her blow.

The mark on my handblazes.

I gasp, looking down at my palm. The three lines of Rhea’s triangle burn bright gold. Blodwyn stares at her own hand, then back to me. Something seems to click in her mind. She draws herself up and squares her shoulders.

“No,” she says, firm and clear. “I won’t do it. I won’t take her heart—not hers or anyone else’s.”

A few courtiers cry out in relief. But Callen visibly stiffens.

“Consider this carefully, Daughter,” he says. “If you refuse, the White Palace will cease to be your home. You’ll be stripped of your title. I’ll treat you like the witch that you are. You’ll benothing.”

Nothing. The same fate I’d been running from for so long. I was so afraid of being unwanted that I wasted most of my life contorting myself to fit the roles others created for me. Even this one—the wicked queen bent on vengeance. Blodwyn, however, is different. Stronger and braver than I ever was. She looks her father straight in the eyes and says:

“I’d rather be nothing than whatever you are.”

Rage rolls off Callen in waves. He lunges for Blodwyn. She swings, the mirror’s knife glinting as it arcs toward him. Callen leaps out of the way, avoiding the blow, and the blade sinks into Parnell’s chest instead. It strikes true, as it was runed to do—straight into the steward’s rotten heart.

Slick red blooms around the knife’s hilt. Parnell gapes at it, as though unsure what’s happening, and then stumbles to his knees. He coughs, blood limning his lips, and then falls to the ground, his black eyes open and empty.

Blodwyn stares, stunned, at the pool of crimson spreading from beneath the dead man. But Callen wastes no time. He yanks the knifefrom Parnell’s chest and brandishes it at the princess. Parnell’s blood glistens red on the blade.

“No!” I shout. This time, the guards are too shocked to stop me as I rush forward to put myself in front of Blodwyn. “Don’t touch her!”

Callen bares his teeth. “Then I’ll take your heart first. Mirror or not.”

He draws his arm back to strike.

“Run, Blodwyn!” I shout. “Go!”

A loudthudrattles the throne room doors. Callen’s attention whips to the right. Another slam is enough to crack the bolt. The doors crash inward. Bodies pour into the chamber, steel flashing. Glass shatters as the guards drop their mirrors to engage against the attackers. The courtiers flee, shoving their way through the chaos and into the hall beyond. An arrow whizzes past us. It grazes Callen’s arm and he curses, releasing the knife, which clatters to the ground. Blodwyn snatches it up and points it at him. He hesitates a beat longer, weighing his options, then turns on his heel, snatches Margaret’s wrist, and darts in the other direction. I don’t bother to go after them.

“Are you all right?” I ask Blodwyn, taking her shoulders.

She nods, breathless. “Yes, I—”

“Blodwyn!” A young woman rushes up to us.

The princess reaches for her. “Verity! Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she says, waving her off. “But we should leave. Now. I can take you to my chambers.”

“It’s better than here,” I reason.