Page 48 of The Witch Queen

He’s right,that voice goads.

“Practice is different than a real hunt,” I return, picking up the poker and jabbing at the fire. Sparks dance up the chimney. “Blodwyn won’t kill anything.”

“Are you certain?” Callen drawls. “In my experience, people will do whatever it takes to claw their way to a throne.Youcertainly did.”

My memory flashes back to the blood-soaked night when I’d bound Callen to his mirror. For so many years, I’d sworn to Mother that I could never commit so gruesome an act. I didn’t even have thestomach to bind Nettle to me as a proper familiar. But when the moment came, I’d cracked Callen’s chest open like it was a walnut. Reached into his body and removed his still-beating heart with my own bare hands.

Would Blodwyn do the same to me?

My gaze tracks to the window, landing on the seven stars of the Spirits’ Mirror.

I hate you,Blodwyn’s words carry beneath the whine of the wind.

And an uncomfortable thought wheedles into my mind. What if her hatred doesn’t entirely stem from Margaret? What if the princess can sense something buried deep inside me?

Something not even Rhea could love.

—

The morning of the hunt dawns cold and misty, the sun hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds. The baying of hounds and the whicker of horses fills the courtyard, their breath steaming in the air. It’s scarcely past dawn, but many of the claimants have already gathered. A few of them look a bit green in the face. One of them vomits in a corner and I wince, taking a deep breath to settle my own nerves, not that it does any good.

You’re never going to succeed,Callen’s words wheel in my mind.

Someone hurries past me so close that our shoulders knock together.

“Oh.” The person stops and drops into a swift curtsy. It’s Anora. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No harm done,” I tell her.

She bobs another curtsy and hurries off, Joan trailing her.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, indicating the direction Anora went.

“Not really,” Joan replies, her brow creased with worry. “Anora has been attending some of the recent parties. A few of the claimants have been making promises about the changes they plan to implement if they win.”

She doesn’t need to elaborate on what those changes might entail.

“None of it will come to pass,” I assure her.

“I hope you’re right,” she says. “For both our sakes. Speaking of, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about my…investigation.”

About Margaret, she means. I move closer to Joan and drop my voice. “And?”

“There’s nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “The duchess’s servants don’t even gossip about her.”

I frown, annoyed. “Someone must know something.”

“I’ll use the day to dig through the archives,” Joan says. “But what about you? I saw you talking to the princess at the pall-mall match.”

“That…didn’t go as planned,” I admit. “I tried explaining my side of things, but she wouldn’t listen. We argued.”

Joan sighs. “Ayleth.”

“Iknow.It was a mistake. And that’s what this is for.” I show her the long box I’m carrying. “It’s from Roland. Surely it can undo whatever damage I’ve caused.”

“Maybe.” Joan eyes the gift, dubious. “But I’m not convinced the princess will appreciate an attempt to purchase her affection.”

“What else do you suggest?”