Page 225 of The Witch Queen

When the truth about me finally surfaced, reactions were mixed. Many in Riven were happy to villainize me—the scheming witch who tricked the king into marriage and loosed Malum on the realm. It wasn’t until I left court that I learned of those who supported what I’d done. Appreciated Malum instead of feared it. On a few occasions, I’ve run across a shrine depicting me as a saint. But I’ve never leaned into that role—it’s not who I want to be.

“And she has a pet Nevenwolf,” the first adds.

Another exaggeration, though Nox does accompany us at times.

“Well,Queen Blodwyn,” the other replies, “brought someone back to life.Hersis the greater power.”

The two continue to bicker back and forth. I probably shouldn’t say anything. But I can’t stand to think of these two young witches becoming obsessed with power the way I was. It starts like this, and then grows until it’s uncontrollable.

“Actually, it’s neither,” I say, stepping out from behind the shelf. Their eyes widen when they register my identity. “No power is greater than the other. And it shouldn’t be. Don’t forget that.”

They nod furiously, mouths open. And then I feel a hand slide into mine. The mark on my palm hums.

“Except love,” Jacquetta says, smiling at me. “Love is the greatest power of all.”

And I’m still not sure how the two of us were lucky enough to findit.

—

“So,” I say, a few hours later. “Where are we headed now?”

Jacquetta consults her map. “The last raven Sindony sent said east. We’re supposed to meet up near the mountain border.”

I frown, not exactly thrilled at joining the others. I’ve spent some time with the coven witches since the coronation, but things haven’t fully thawed between us. No surprise there, considering I had hunted them down and taken their power during my short reign. Jacquetta insists that they’ll eventually learn to trust me, but I’m not so sure. And they haven’t earned my trust, either.

“And we’d better hurry,” she says, eyeing the angle of the sun, which is swiftly dipping below the tree line. “We’ll want to try to make it a little farther before we camp, seeing assomeonerefused another night in a warm bed.”

Nettle trills, as if she agrees.

“I’m sorry,” I say, putting my hands up. “I couldn’t stay. There were too many memories in that place.”

Jacquetta reaches for me. I can feel her understanding thrumming through our bond. “Well, it’s not as if we haven’t spent plenty of other nights in the forest. It’ll be like old times.”

Thosememories wash over me now. Dances under the stars. Stolen kisses.

“If it’s like old times, then we’ll be drunk,” I remind her.

“You think I haven’t come prepared?”

Jacquetta grins at me and pulls out a bottle of wine.

“Did you steal that?” I ask, incredulous.

“Ofcoursenot,” she says, then nods at Nettle. “She did.”

My cat meows and swishes her tail. The two of them, honestly.

“Just open it up,” I say. “This is as good a place to camp as any.”

“We should really—”

Nettle nips my ankle and then bounds off into the trees.

“Hey!” I call after her. “What was that for? And where are you going?”

Frustrated, I pick up my skirts and chase after her. Nettle leaps over a few fallen logs and then settles at the base of a tree up ahead.

“What’s gotten into you?” I ask.