Chapter Forty-Five Ayleth
Chapter Forty-Five
Ayleth
We reach the meeting point in the early afternoon of the following day.
Jacquetta and I ride ahead with a smaller party while the rest of the regiment makes themselves hidden around the Sanctum, iron weapons at the ready for when the witches arrive.
It’s been another gray, miserable day—one the Diviners would deem a bad omen.
But is it an ill portent for me? Or the Heirs?
“Your Majesty,” the head guard says, drawing his horse even with mine. “The Sanctum is up ahead. I must insist that you remain back here. It’s too dangerous for you to go farther.”
“I’m going,” I say flatly. “I’ll be fine.”
“And if the witches attack?”
Beside me, I feel rather than see Jacquetta’s attention slide in my direction. She hasn’t said anything since we left the camp, but her words from last night resonate.
Whatever you do to the others tomorrow, you’re going to have to do to me.
“Have the archers ready,” I reply.
The guard nods and then steers his horse back to the group.
Jacquetta and I leave the forest in silence.
The remains of the Sanctum loom in front of us.
Its arched windows are blown out, moss and vines creeping up the crumbling brick.
Just as at Stonehaven, the ivy vines clinging to the structure have deepened to dark red, so that it appears that the walls are gashed.
That the former sanctuary is weeping blood.
Another crow calls overhead.
“I suppose it’s rather fitting that it should all end here,” Jacquetta comments as she dismounts her horse. The scouts haven’t sighted the witches yet, so we might have a while to wait.
I finish tying my horse’s lead, ignoring the tightness in my chest. Telling myself that the feeling knotting my stomach isn’t guilt.
“It doesn’t have to be the end for you,” I tell her. “I meant what I said last night. You can still choose differently.”
“And I meant what I said,” she returns. “If you want to continue down this path, you’re going to have to go all the way.”
Frustration kindles in my chest. Why is she always so stubborn? And why does it bother me? If Jacquetta insists on throwing her life away, then fine. I should let her. But for some unfathomable reason, I can’t.
“Why do you keep taking their side?” I press. “They wouldn’t do the same for you. They don’t care about you.”
“Do you care about me?”
Yes, my stupid heart whispers. I grit my teeth against it. A cold wind gusts around us, rustling the ivy leaves.
“That’s not—”
A distant thump interrupts me, followed by another.
I hurry over to the gate. There’s a man lying on the ground near the tree line.
Even from here, I register Riven’s colors.
Which means it’s one of the archers. My archers.
As if on cue, more bodies topple from their perches.
And then a line of men marches out from within the forest. They’re wearing the navy and gold of Rycinthia.
Understanding sinks its talons into my brain:
It’s an ambush.
Failed, that voice supplies. You have failed.
I whirl on Jacquetta. “What have you done?”
She gapes at me. “Me? I didn’t—”
“Daughter.”
Jacquetta halts, her attention pivoting back to the entrance of the Sanctum.
Panic rings in my skull at the sight of four crimson cloaks.
Witches. They lower their hoods and I recognize Selene and Sindony, the former Diviner Heir and her Second.
There’s also Della, another Heir. But it’s the last witch that pins me in place. One who shouldn’t be here at all:
It’s Nerissa.
—
“Mother!”
Jacquetta rushes across the courtyard and throws her arms around the other witch.
But I don’t move, instincts warring in my mind.
What are they doing here? The scouts claimed they hadn’t yet spotted the Heirs.
How did they, much less the Rycinthian army, traipse through Riven without us noticing? Why didn’t Callen or Shade find them?
Shade.
Fool that I am, I left my Huntsman behind. And he was right. I shouldn’t have come here alone. Selene’s keen Diviner gaze lands on me. Just like at Stonehaven, I get the distinct impression that she can glimpse inside my mind. She smiles, like Nettle with her mice.
“Your Majesty,” she says, dipping her chin in a mock show of respect. “How kind of you to honor us with your presence.”
Anger flares, waking my power. Shade or not, there’s still time to fix this.
“Nox!” I shout.
The Nevenwolf springs from the shadows, snarling. Most of the other witches react immediately, hurling spells of their own. But Selene doesn’t flinch. She raises a hand.
“Watch yourself, little queen,” she warns. “You may be powerful, but do you really judge yourself strong enough to fight off an entire battalion?”
Selene signals and I hear the distant tromp of footsteps. Behind me, yet more of Rycinthia’s troops stream out from the cover of the trees, weapons glinting.
Failed, that voice again.
Sindony smirks and it’s everything I can do to keep from lashing out at her. Nox growls, evidently sharing my desire. But I motion for him to stay back—for now.
“Mother, what’s going on?” Jacquetta presses, still clutching Nerissa. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” the other witch replies. “But we had to—”
“We’ll get to that in time,” Selene interrupts, never taking her attention from me. “We have other matters to discuss at present.”
“There is nothing to discuss,” I grind out.
Not after everything they’ve put me through. Not after this. My attention shifts to Jacquetta. Was she part of it, too? She seemed as surprised as I was to see Nerissa, but I’m not sure that means anything.
“What a spine you’ve grown since I last saw you,” Selene comments, speaking to me like I’m a witchling again. “And here I assumed Millicent’s line had completely dried up. Tell me, do you still imagine yourself as the queen from Aphelia’s prophecy?”
Sindony snorts a derisive laugh. Nox rumbles a growl in reply, his hackles raised.
“I don’t have to imagine anything,” I shoot back. “I’m the one sitting on the throne.”
“Not for long,” Selene drawls. “And not with a stolen crown.”
I smirk, suddenly very glad I had the foresight to leave the crown with my Huntsman.
“If that’s what you came for, you’ll be disappointed,” I tell her. “The crown isn’t here.”
Selene steps closer, her green Diviner gaze boring into mine.
“Perhaps not,” she agrees. “But I’ll wager that you can get it for us. Otherwise…”
She signals again. In the next instant, Nerissa yanks Jacquetta closer and pulls a dagger from her belt. Silver flashes as she holds it to her daughter’s throat.
Despite everything between us, horror flashes in my veins. I lunge for Jacquetta, but Selene blocks my path.
“Stay where you are,” she orders.
It takes all my self-control to obey.
“Mother?” Jacquetta’s voice rushes out in a panicked gasp. “What are you doing?”
“What must be done,” is all Nerissa replies.
“What must be…” Jacquetta repeats. Comprehension dawns on her expression. “You knew about this? But you were gone. You—”
“She was never missing, you idiot,” Sindony replies, rolling her eyes. “She returned to Rycinthia right after the attack on the Mines. She’s been there the whole time—with us.”
Which means I was right—Shade couldn’t find Nerissa because she left Riven. Still, questions churn in my mind. If Nerissa returned to the Heirs, why not tell Jacquetta? And what is happening now?
“Back to Rycinthia?” Jacquetta asks, as confused as I am. “But…why?”
“Because we needed you to go to her.” Sindony flings an impatient gesture at me.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“I’m surprised you haven’t pieced it all together by now,” Selene replies, one corner of her mouth lifting.
Then she addresses Jacquetta. “I suspected Nerissa’s disappearance, coupled with our own inaction, would send you running to the palace.
That, eventually, the so-called Witch Queen wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to use you to serve her own ends.
And it appears I was correct. Here you both are. ”
Pain twists Jacquetta’s features, so agonizing that I feel the ache in my own chest. It is the exact same pain I experienced when I discovered what would have been my crimson cloak stuffed away in a chest—abandoned.
And that’s when I know without a shadow of a doubt that Jacquetta wasn’t aware of this scheme.
The Heirs, Nerissa herself, betrayed her.
Perhaps I should feel vindicated, but I don’t.
Instead, anger simmers in my veins. My shadows leap and dive around me, eager to be set loose.
“You would sacrifice your own daughter?” I ask Nerissa, seething.
She stiffens but does not lower the blade. “We must have the Bloodstones. Fulfill the prophecy. There is no other way.”
“The prophecy?” I echo. “What does this have to do with—”
“From the darkness will rise a queen,” Selene recites, her green eyes so bright that they’re almost manic. “And you have darkened this realm beyond recognition. It’s time for us to reclaim it. To begin a new age for witches. With a proper leader at its head.”
And the look on her face tells me exactly who Selene believes this leader should be.
“You?” I ask. “You think the prophecy is about you?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” she asks. “The words were spoken by my ancestress. A gift from the Spirits themselves. A destiny. My destiny. Surely you sense that. After all, if you were really the queen Aphelia foretold, nothing would stand in your way.”
“What is that supposed to—”
Selene gestures to Nerissa, who digs the blade of her knife into Jacquetta’s throat. I take a half step toward her, my shadows swirling. Nox snarls, barely restraining himself.
“You see?” Selene says. “If you truly desired your crown, the fate of some half-Wayward witch wouldn’t trouble you. But you’ve always allowed sentiment and emotion to cloud your judgment. It’s why poor Cassandra knew you would never be a proper Heir.”
Fury smolders in my chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”