Page 96 of The Witch Queen

“We’re stillwitches,Ayleth,” she says. “Rycinthia might have allied with the covens, but they didn’t welcome us with open arms. Quite the opposite.”

I slow in my movements. Until now, I’ve always envisioned Jacquetta and the rest of the witches as guests of honor, being toasted in Rycinthian halls. Surrounded by courtiers clamoring to win their favor.

“What does that mean?”

She hesitates before answering. “We were…curiosities at best. Brought out to entertain the nobles with what little remained of our gifts.”

“I thought you said your power didn’t work over there.”

“It didn’t, mostly,” she clarifies. “But Blesseds could still manage to coax flowers to bloom. Diviners would read cards, even if they had to make it up. Party tricks.”

It’s satisfying to hear that witches like Selene and her awful Second, Sindony, have been reduced to mere fortune tellers. They deserve it, after all those years of acting like they were superior to everyone else. Still…

“And at worst?”

“Suspicion,” Jacquetta says. “Fear. Just like it was for us during the Covens’ War. I heard of a witch who nearly died when someone poisoned her dress.”

That’s not my problem, I tell myself. Not my fault. The witches could have joined with me and avoided all this, but they didn’t. Even so, I can’t help but think of others—Eden, who used to charm roses to life in the kitchen windows and kept my secrets. The Elementals, who let me tag along with them on their hunts. Do they deserve poisoned gowns and a life of ridicule?

I give Jacquetta’s corset one last yank.

“That’s enough,” she complains, batting my hands away.

“Sorry,” I mutter, fetching the gown. “If things were so bad in Rycinthia, then why stay?”

“What other choice did we have?” Jacquetta asks, stepping into the skirt. “If we remained here, your shadow creature would hunt us down. At least in Rycinthia we had a chance of keeping our power—and our lives. Most of us learned to live with everything else.”

Mostof them. A question surfaces from a deep corner of my mind: One I’ve avoided asking since Jacquetta arrived. One I’m still not sure I want answered. It slips out, anyway.

“And my mother?” I ask. “Wasshepretending to read fortunes?”

Jacquetta pauses. “Cassandra?”

“She’s not a Diviner,” I allow with a shrug. “But I’m sure she could conjure a decent lie to entertain the mortals.”

After all, she spent most of my life lying to me.

“Ayleth.” Jacquetta’s voice is soft. Almost gentle. “Cassandra wasn’t with us in Rycinthia.”

“Not with you?” I ask. “But I know she met up with the Heirs.”

“She did,” Jacquetta agrees. “But she didn’t come with us. She was too weak.”

Too weak? The roots of my hair prickle.

“I don’t understand. I took her latent magic, but I didn’t extinguish it.”

That’s the whole point of my strategy. I’m not killing the witches. In fact, I don’t want them to die. I want them to live and understand what it was like to be me. To learn what they did to Shade and all the other creatures of Malum. The shadows undulate around me.

“Perhaps not,” Jacquetta says. “But there was something…broken in her. More than losing her magic. Ayleth, she…”

Died.

The word hangs between us. Every fiber of my being rises up in rebellion. It can’t be true. Surely I would have sensed Mother’s death, like a string snapping inside me.

“Are you certain?” I press. “She might have just wandered off or—”

“I was there when they wrapped her,” Jacquetta says, not unkindly. “I assumed you knew.”