Page 47 of The Witch Queen

I twist my hands. Whether I want to admit it or not, the thought has already crossed my mind. If I let Shade deal with Blodwyn, I’ll never have to endure her barbed comments or sullen silences ever again. But something still holds me back. I don’t want Blodwyn to die. I want her to stop treating me like I’m her enemy. To see Margaret for who she is. Tochooseme instead of that vapid duchess.

“No,” I say to Shade. “Not yet. Better to let things play out.”

For now.

As you wish, my queen,Shade replies.But you need not fear her. Not with your power.

“And ifshefearsme?” I ask. “We were so close before she left and now she looks at me like she doesn’t even know me. Like I’m…a monster.”

The ridges of my ears burn, embarrassed at how thoroughly asixteen-year-old girl has succeeded in getting under my skin. Shade pauses, his shadows curling around him.

If you are a monster,he tells me,then so are we all.

His crimson eyes glitter. Malum swells between my bones.

“Then I suppose I’m in good company,” I say.

Shade bows again, then retreats into the darkness, Nox loping after him. In the quiet that follows, I go to my window and look up into the night. Seven stars, arranged in a rough oval, seem to shine brighter than the rest: the Spirits’ Mirror. A memory rises from its grave: the night Jacquetta taught me that constellation, the two of us lying together on the forest floor, gazing up through the lattice of branches. Jacquetta explained that the Spirits’ Mirror was formed so that the Spirits themselves could glimpse into our world. I used to imagine Rhea looking down from those stars. I press my thumb into the place where the scar of my sister’s mark rests. Rhea would never have made such a mess of things. She would have won Blodwyn back to her side straightaway. Would have known just how to handle the trials.

“I wish you were here,” I murmur to the darkness.

Ayleth,I think I hear beneath the whine of the wind.

Nettle hops onto the casement and hisses, her ears flattening. My brow furrows and I open the window. The wind picks up, rattling the branches in the garden below.

Ayleth,I think I hear again.

Abruptly, I recall what Miranda said at the Mine just before the collapse—that she’dseenSpirits. At the time, I was convinced it was really the witches planting the fireroot potion. But what if the Dwarvian woman was right? What if…

“Rhea?” I call, hardly daring to raise my voice above a whisper. “Is that you?”

Shadows shift and shimmer in the dimness. A figure begins to take shape. It looks like…a woman? My pulse kicks up and I lean farther out the window. Until—

“Careful. You might fall.”

Callen’s voice startles me so much that I have to brace myself against the window casement before I topple into the night. The figure, or whatever it was, has vanished. It was likely never there at all, I reason. Just the product of too many sleepless nights.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, self-consciously straightening my dressing gown.

“Someone’s in a temper,” Callen observes. “You’re the one who said you wanted news.”

“Do you have any?”

“Yes, actually. Four moreusurpersarrived,” Callen informs me, sneering the wordusurpers,which is what he’s taken to calling the claimants.

“This late?”

“They have until the start of the hunt,” Callen replies icily. “Which you would know if you had absolutely any idea of what you’re doing.”

Nettle meows and swats at the imprisoned king from her perch near his mirror. He makes a face at her.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, as much to myself as to Callen. “Most of them will be gone soon. Only twenty claimants continue to the second trial.”

“Twentytraitors,” Callen grunts. “By the way, there’s still time for you to end all this before it gets worse.”

“You mean release you from the mirror?”

“Naturally,” he replies. “You’re never going to succeed otherwise. I’ve been watching my daughter at practice. She’s a rather decent shot.”