Chapter Thirty-Three Blodwyn
Chapter Thirty-Three
Blodwyn
“Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs, writhing against my invisible bonds. “Someone help! Ayleth is—”
The rest is snatched from my throat, leaving me gasping for air. But someone must have heard me, for light spills into the chamber from the direction of the front doors.
“Your Majesty?” someone, likely a guard, calls. “Is everything all right?”
No. It is not all right. I’m going to die. She’s going to murder me. I attempt to cry out again, but only manage garbled, choking sounds.
Help! I plead in my mind. Please! I’m right here!
“I’m fine,” Ayleth replies quickly. “You may go. Do not disturb me again.”
There’s a beat of silence and then the guard retreats. His footsteps fade away, along with any hope of my being rescued. The door snicks closed, and I hear the bolt slide into place, sealing my fate.
“What the hell are we going to do?” The one I recognize as Jacquetta demands.
She gapes at me like I’m the one who just revealed the biggest secret in Riven.
Ayleth is a witch. A witch.
The words loop through my mind, ominous as crows.
But beneath my shock and horror, a strange sense of certainty begins to settle.
Of course Ayleth is a witch. Everything started right after she arrived at the palace.
The Nevenwolf. The crows. Papa. I should have guessed.
Should have done something when I had the chance. Now it’s far too late.
“We’re going to talk,” Ayleth says at last.
“Talk?” Jacquetta echoes, incredulous. “But she—”
“We can talk,” Ayleth interrupts, putting up a hand to stay the other witch. “Can’t we, Blodwyn?”
I would rather swallow my own tongue than speak with either of them.
But I have a decent idea of what will happen if I refuse, and so I grudgingly nod my assent.
Ayleth hesitates a moment longer, but then the invisible bindings around my body loosen.
I gulp down air, finally able to inhale a real breath and clear my throat to test my voice.
I don’t sense that there’s any serious harm done, but my skin still buzzes with the revolting sensation of Ayleth’s magic.
I want nothing more than to scrub myself clean of it.
“All right,” Ayleth says, twisting her hands. “Let’s just…sit down for now.”
She heads into the other room and I reluctantly follow, terror and rage beating in time with my frantic heartbeat.
I perch on my seat near the fire, ready to bolt at the first opportunity.
Ayleth is clearly struggling to keep her own panic from showing.
But I note how pale she’s become, sitting in her own chair like it’s covered in thorns.
Jacquetta remains standing, watching me like I’m a snake about to strike.
“I’m sure you have questions,” Ayleth begins. “Why don’t we start there?”
“I heard everything I need to know: You’re witches.”
She flinches. I half expect her to deny it. Attempt to convince me that I misunderstood. That her spell was all my imagination. Perhaps she’ll even cast another to erase my memory. But she just sits there, nervously turning one of her rings.
“Yes,” Ayleth admits finally. “We are witches.”
Somehow, hearing her confession only stokes my anger.
“I trusted you,” I seethe. “My mother trusted you. And you were just, what? Skulking around the palace, waiting to murder us all? To carry out some version of the witches’ curse?”
“No,” Ayleth insists. “I didn’t come here to kill anyone. And there is no curse.”
“Because it’s been the two of you the whole time! You used your magic to spell Papa. To steal the throne. And what did you do to Mother? Did you—”
A memory rears up: Ayleth discovering me with the scrying cards in my menagerie. She’d recognized them immediately. Been furious with me for playing with them. This is why. Like a fool, I told her where I’d found them. I sent Ayleth right to Mother’s door.
“It was you,” I breathe. “You killed Mother.”
Ayleth’s eyes widen. “What? No, I—”
“You found me with the scrying cards,” I press. From the look on her face, I know she remembers. “Hours later, Mother was dead and now you’re the queen. Do you really expect me to believe that was all a coincidence?”
“I didn’t harm Sybil,” Ayleth insists. “I tried to help her.”
“It’s true,” Jacquetta says. “I was there. Your mother was being poisoned, but not by us.”
“Oh, and I’m just supposed to take your word for that?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
Ayleth exhales a frustrated breath.
“I know it might be hard for you to trust me,” she allows. “But I’m telling the truth about your mother. The reason I came to the White Palace had nothing to do with any of you.”
“No, my family members just happen to die or be maimed in horrible accidents when you’re around,” I comment.
Jacquetta mutters something unintelligible. Ayleth presses her lips together.
“I will explain,” she says, her tone strained, “if you will listen.”
The fire crackles in the silence. She can’t possibly say anything that will change my mind. But any chance of escape is far behind me—for now, anyway. Better to buy time. I cross my arms and sit back in my chair, expectant.
Ayleth smooths her skirts before continuing. “I assume that you’re familiar with the events of the Covens’ War. The mortals’ version, at least.”
She pauses until I give a stiff nod.
“Things were…somewhat different for witches. We lost everything. Our homes. Our families. My own sister, Rhea, was slain by the Hunt. I would have done anything to bring her back. To go back to the way I thought my life should be.”
She presses her thumb into the palm of her left hand, just as she did in the garden. And I recall what she said—that going back was impossible. That sometimes, it was worse.
“There was only one thing that I believed might help me achieve that end,” she continues. “The Bloodstones. They were forged by the Ancients—the first coven witches—and contained their power. Magic strong enough to create the Veil.”
My brow furrows. “The Veil? I thought Meira held the Veil.”
Jacquetta snorts. “This again.”
“A lie invented by the Order,” Ayleth says, disgust clear in her words.
“Their false goddess had nothing to do with the Veil. The Bloodstones carried that magic. They were the strongest pieces of power in existence. And so I believed that one of them might be enough to resurrect Rhea. Given that the stones were stolen by the Hunt, I reasoned that they must be here, at the palace. That is why I came.”
The pieces of her story tumble through my mind. If it’s true, then Ayleth came searching for something that belonged to the witches by right. Something robbed of them by my own family. I recall the illustration in the book.
Pay the price, I hear beneath the howl of the wind outside.
I force myself to sit up straighter. Whatever happened with the covens doesn’t excuse what Ayleth did.
“So why did you stay?” I ask. “If you came for the stones, why not just take them and leave?”
Ayleth shifts in her seat. “Things…complicated for me.”
I bark a rueful laugh. “I can guess what: You decided that you wanted the throne more than your sister.”
Jacquetta makes a noise in her throat and Ayleth glares at her.
“It’s not that simple,” she says. “By the time I discovered the Bloodstones, I’d realized how corrupt the covens had become. The White Court as well. And the war…if I didn’t intervene, your father would have only continued hunting us.”
That sharp-edged, conflicted feeling churns inside me, reconciling the man I knew, full of smiles and gifts and adventures, with the monster he could become.
“The realm needed a new direction,” Ayleth goes on. “An end to the power that was tearing everything apart. That’s what my sister would have wanted. So when I found the Bloodstones…I destroyed them.”
“When you found them?” I echo, my brow furrowing. “You mean—”
My gaze flits to a box on the other side of the room. Ayleth’s crown rests inside it, firelight glimmering on its crimson jewels, those I’ve always considered so gaudy and strange. Realization hits in a rush.
“Those are the Bloodstones,” I say, nodding toward the crown.
Ayleth doesn’t deny it.
“But that means…” I pause, recalling her story. The magic she claimed the Bloodstones held. “You broke the Veil. You unleased Malum on the realm.”
Jacquetta mutters something again. Ayleth stiffens.
“I did what I felt was necessary,” she replies icily.
“Like with Papa?” I ask with another biting laugh. “With me? Everyone assumes I’m cursed and it’s because of what you did.”
She swallows. For an instant, some of her armor falls away and I might see guilt flit across her features. But then it’s gone.
“If you wish to cast me as the villain of your story, I can’t stop you. But if I’m a monster, why didn’t I kill you ages ago? It certainly would have suited me better.”
The words land like a slap.
“And does it suit you now?” I ask.
“Of course it doesn’t,” she replies. But it’s too quick, like she’s trying to convince herself as well as me. “Surely my actions tonight demonstrated as much.”
With everything that’s happened, I nearly forgot about the Great Hall. The corpse-like creature that crawled out of the ground.
No, not a creature. A princess.
The lost princess. I’d guessed her identity as soon as her yellow eyes locked with mine. Who else would drag herself out of her grave, vowing revenge on the White Kings for stealing her throne?
You must pay the price, her rasping voice echoes beneath the snap and pop of the fire.
“That…creature,” I say. “Where did it come from?”
“I’m not sure,” Ayleth admits. “Whatever it was, it doesn’t belong among the living. It must have made its way here when the Veil fell.”
“The Veil you broke,” I comment dryly. “You’re the reason it tried to rip out my heart.”
“That’s not—” Ayleth starts.
“It’s technically true,” Jacquetta supplies.
Ayleth glowers at her. “It doesn’t matter why it came. We’re going to get rid of it.”
“Her,” I correct without thinking.
The two of them look at me, puzzled.
“How do you know that?” Ayleth asks.
Don’t tell them, a small voice inside me warns.
It’s right. I came here to share my theory about Princess Matilda with Ayleth, but that was before I knew the truth.
Now I can’t trust either of them. Still…
who else would believe me? Not Aunt Margaret.
Verity would, but what help could she offer?
Much as I hate to admit it, these two witches may be my only hope.
“There’s a book in the other room,” I say. “I brought it with me to show you—the legend of the lost princess.”
A crease forms between Ayleth’s brows. “Lost princess?”
Briefly, I fill them in on the story I found about Princess Matilda and her ill-fated bid for the throne. The drops of blood left in the snow and the cryptic message discovered in her room. When I’ve finished, they’re both staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“So you believe,” Ayleth is the first to speak, “the creature we saw is this princess?”
“I know how it sounds, but yes,” I reply. “What she said fits with the legend. And not just that. After she fled the palace, Matilda disappeared. She must have died eventually. And now that the Veil has fallen…”
I trail away. Wind howls down the chimney, stirring the flames.
“The true queen,” Ayleth murmurs, staring into the hearth.
“I don’t care who she is,” Jacquetta speaks up. “How do we banish her?”
“Aren’t you two supposed to know?” I ask. “You’re witches.”
“We haven’t exactly dealt with undead princesses before,” Jacquetta replies archly.
“We’ll figure it out,” Ayleth adds, which does not convince me at all. “But it should be said: We can’t do anything if we’re locked in the dungeons.”
The dungeons? Why would she—but then her meaning registers. They’re worried I’ll give them away. A highly satisfying sense of power rushes through me. Because I could turn them in. And it would give me great pleasure to do so. Still…
“I don’t see why you’re so concerned about me,” I tell them. “What’s to stop you from casting a spell to make me forget all this? Or staging some accident like Papa’s?”
“I’m not going to do that.”
Probably because she hasn’t figured out how to get away with it yet. Even so…much as I hate to admit it, Ayleth does have a point. She could have let me die of my illness before I left the palace. Could have used her magic to halt the trials. And she did save me tonight.
“I won’t tell anyone your secret,” I agree at last. “But I want to be involved with whatever measures you take against the princess.”
“Absolutely not,” Ayleth protests. “It’s too dangerous. You saw what she can do. And you were nearly killed tonight.”
“I don’t care,” I insist. “The princess wants me. I’m going to be the one to stop her.”
Ayleth pauses. She looks at Jacquetta, who just shrugs.
“Fine,” she relents. “We’ll work together. But I don’t want you attempting anything on your own, do you understand?”
I nod, sealing our tenuous alliance. I’m not a fool. This will all end badly. But for now, there’s no other choice. Because there’s only one thing I am certain of, deep in my bones: The lost princess will return.
And when she does, she’s going to eat my heart.