Page 57 of The Witch Queen

“You!” Steel sings as one of the guards unsheathes his sword and points it at Jacquetta. “Get away from the queen!”

“Wait!” I start. “She’s—”

But then I stop myself. WhatisJacquetta? Not a friend. My arm is still bleeding from the woundsheinflicted. And what was she doing here, anyway? With Followers of all people? Is this some new scheme devised by the covens?

Predictably, Jacquetta’s face gives nothing away. Her shoulders are back and her jaw set, hard and defiant as ever. But beneath that is something else—the glimmer of what could be fear. That fickle, miserable part of my soul shivers in the slightest. I bury it. Because it’s Jacquetta’s turn to be afraid. Lethersee how she likes the White Palace’s dungeons.

“She’s one of the Followers,” I say, never taking my gaze from hers. “Arrest her.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ayleth

News of the attack reaches the palace before we do. The halls are flooded with courtiers by the time we return, everyone shouting questions. Several call out to me, but I ignore them and head directly to my chamber, intent on summoning Callen and demanding to know what happened in the forest. But the imprisoned king will have to wait. Joan paces outside the entrance of my rooms, her brow pinched with worry.

“Ayleth!” She rushes up to me. “Thank goodness you’re all right. I heard it was Followers. And—your arm! What happened?”

Jacquetta.

By now, I assume the guards have carted the other witch away to the dungeons. But I swear that I can sense her presence through the marble and stone, like a faint heartbeat humming against my skin. Like our proximity has caused that invisible tether to tighten between us.

Perhaps it will just keep pulling, until one of us is dead.

“Shall I summon the physicians, Majesty?” Parnell weaves his way through the flurry of courtiers.

“No,” I say, adjusting my sleeve before he can get a good look at the wound. “But you can tell me what’s being done. Not here, though.”

I motion for them both to follow me into my chambers, away from the commotion of the panicked court.

“The Hunt has been dispatched to sweep the forest, of course,” Parnell begins once the doors shut behind us. “And I’m sure Your Majesty will be relieved to know that both the princess and the duchess were escorted to the palace safely.”

“That’s good news,” Joan agrees.

Perhaps about Blodwyn, but not Margaret. That woman has more lives than Nettle.

“How did Followers get so close?” I demand. “And the witches?”

“Witches?” Joan echoes, wide-eyed.

“I’m not certain yet,” Parnell replies. “With the trials going on, I assume they disguised themselves among the visitors in the White City. I did warn Your Majesty about a resurgence.”

“You said the Followers rallied around a new leader,” I reply, annoyed. “Not that they were capable of—whatever that was.”

I think back to the crows I didn’t call. The storm I didn’t summon. In fact, I’ve never accomplished anything like that with my power. It sounds more like spells in an Elemental’s arsenal. But therearen’tElementals anymore. And certainly not one who possesses such skill. Malum churns behind my sternum. I need to talk to Shade.

“Indeed.” Parnell inclines his chin. “And, given today’s events, I now believe that the Followers’ leader is very likely tied to Rycinthia—and may even be a witch. One masquerading as Meira, which would explain what occurred in the forest. I assume this is King Frances’s newest tactic: to use the Followers to incite a war within Riven’s borders.”

And he’s using the witches to do so. Fresh anger kindles inside me. Isthatwhat Jacquetta was doing there? Perhaps the campsite Shade discovered really was hers. And she’s obviously retained enough of her gift to be able to cast her own spells. Except…Jacquetta appeared as surprised as I was about the crows and the storm. She fought against the Followers. Why would she do that if she was pretending to be Meira? And she certainly didn’t spell the tree to fall on top of herself.Was it one of the others? But who? And why had they stopped when they did?

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Parnell continues, matter-of-factly. “The prisoners will all be put to iron. If there is a witch among them, we’ll know soon enough.”

I stiffen at the mention of the test, one I devised myself. Each prisoner is fitted with an iron shackle to determine whether or not they carry latent magic. If Jacquetta is already wearing one, it will take a few days before she physically reacts. But what then?

What does it matter?that voice observes.She deserves to burn.

“Is that all?” I ask Parnell.

“For now, Your Majesty. I’ll call a council meeting when things have settled. Let me know if I can be of service otherwise.” His crow-like attention tracks to my arm. “Are you certain that you don’t require Dr.Locke’s services?”