Page 22 of The Witch Queen

“The duchess wasn’t in line for the throne,” Joan explains. “The details about her life wouldn’t have been considered of much importance, especially after she married and left Riven.”

From what I know of the White Kings, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. And perhaps I can use Margaret’s erasure to my advantage. Make the duchess feel special and wanted in order to win her to my side. The strategy has succeeded with other courtiers.

“You’ll know her soon enough,” Weston says. “Because I’m going to make this the homecoming of the century. It is my sworn duty to the realm.” He rises and bows, pressing a hand gallantly to his chest. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to see a man about gelatin.”

Gelatin?I don’t bother to ask.

“Good riddance,” Joan mutters when the door closes behind him. “He’s driving me insane. And he’s going to run us into the ground with these expenses. After what happened at the Mines, we have to be careful.”

Memories of the disaster bloom in my mind. The crash of stone and the echo of the Dwarves’ screams. Rosemary’s haunted gaze.

“Have you heard anything more from Roland?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “When I left there, they had finished the rescue efforts, but it was still a mess. Which is why we should be sending the Dwarves the supplies they need. Not hosting extravagant parties.”

“If you want to help the Dwarves, we need these parties,” I insist. “We have to give Margaret a reason to ally with us.”

One of the only lessons I learned from Mother: Presentation is everything. Disguising ourselves as Sisters of the Order kept the Hunt at bay for years. And now I have to show the duchess the glittering world she remembers. One she’ll want to save.

But Joan isn’t as convinced. “Are you certain about this? The duchess is going to be asking questions. A lot of them, probably. The princess as well. Especially after they see the king.”

My skin prickles. Much as I’ve tried to deflect them, the same worries have plagued me since I agreed to this plan. The rest of the courthas been fairly easy to control. Will Margaret be as malleable? Callenisher brother. If I saw Rhea in the king’s state, I’d stop at nothing to get answers. But I don’t let myself dwell on that for too long.

“You heard Weston,” I say, as much to myself as to Joan. “Margaret will be easily distracted with parties and entertainment. And it’s not as if the duchess has come knocking at our door before. If she cares so much about Callen, why hasn’t she shown it?”

Joan considers this, fiddling with her quill. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Soon enough all this will be behind us. The war will be over.”

And then the witches will be defeated and this realm will belong to Malum alone. Tome.

Shadows writhe in the corners of the room.

Fitz barks, drawing our attention to the door. Joan brightens as another woman enters.

“Oh,” Anora says, bobbing a swift curtsy when she spots me. “Your Majesty. I didn’t realize I was interrupting.”

“That’s all right,” I say, motioning her to come inside.

Anora holds up a plate of small pies. “You’ve been working so hard. I thought you might be hungry.”

“Starving,” Joan agrees.

Anora smiles back at her and the two of them look like twin stars fallen to earth.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” I say, pushing back from the table.

“You don’t have to go,” Joan calls after me. “We haven’t finished.”

“I’m sure you can handle it. Parnell needs me.”

It’s a lie, but I’d rather be anywhere else than the glow of their happiness. One that reminds me too much of the life I thought I’d have.

A life that long ago burned to ash.

—

The days leading up to Margaret’s visit hum with restless energy. An army of servants scurries about the halls, polishing floors and airingrooms. I supervise every aspect of the preparations, obsessed with perfecting each minute detail. When not involved with the planning, I spend most of my time using Callen and the crows to scour the realm, searching for any sign of the witches who destroyed the Mines. But my Huntsman, who is usually so adept at rooting out the covens, returns empty-handed.