Chapter Twenty-Four Ayleth #2
It had been tricky, acquiring such material, given the White Court’s history with witches. But the library’s Keepers are paid exorbitantly well for their discretion. And the rest of the court is too focused on their own entertainment to notice a few questionable texts.
“Did you find anything?” Jacquetta asks, still exploring the book.
“Not really,” I admit. “In fact, from what I could discover, the other realms don’t possess much in the way of magic, or even Malum. I’ve read about Cunnings, like you saw. And people deemed ‘Seers’. But their gifts are nothing in comparison to that of the witches.”
Jacquetta rolls a grape between her fingers, thoughtful. “So magic is unique to Riven?”
“It appears that way,” I agree. “Malum as well.”
“That would explain some things,” she comments.
“Like what?”
She doesn’t answer right away, likely determining how much to share.
“Our power didn’t work properly on the other side of the mountain,” she says at last. “At least for those of us who retained our gifts. Our magic was there, but it was…I don’t know. Dormant. Until I returned to Riven.”
That is strange.
“How were you able to cast those spells in the forest? With the Veil gone, I assumed—”
“I didn’t bind myself to the Veil,” she says.
“You told me you didn’t bind yourself to the covens. That’s not the same thing.”
She shrugs. “It’s the only way I can explain it. My gift is one of the strongest left. What I can’t explain is why my power only works here. What’s so special about Riven?”
I have absolutely no idea. I drift over to my map, watching the tendrils of darkness skim the surface of the realm. What could keep magic, or Malum, contained here? And why—
Nettle meows, her tail swishing as she trots over to the opposite wall, where the outline of a door has begun to carve itself into the paneling. My blood flashes cold. Roland. Damn everything. I’d completely forgotten that I called him.
“Mistress—” Roland stops short when he registers Jacquetta. “Witch.”
Jacquetta pales at his murderous expression.
“You.” He charges toward her, but I put myself between them.
“It’s all right,” I say. “Really. She’s helping.”
“Helping?” Roland scoffs. “Like she helped when I found you blubbering in the dungeons?”
“Blubbering?” Jacquetta arches an eyebrow.
Heat flames in my face. “I was not.”
Nettle trills, dubious. I glare at her.
“Or when she blew up our Mines?” Roland barrels on. “You have anything to do with that, Other Mistress Witch?”
Now it’s Jacquetta’s turn to flush. “I…a little bit.”
“Oh, a little bit, is it?” Roland mocks. “How about I just pound your skull a little bit and see how you like it?”
He stalks toward her again. Jacquetta snatches up the nearest blunt object and brandishes it like a weapon.
“Roland don’t!” I grab his arm, grunting with the effort of restraining him. He may be shorter than me, but he’s all muscle. “I—we—need her help. With the duchess. Margaret is beginning to ask questions.”
At that, Roland stills. “What kind of questions? You think she knows about you…us?”
“Not yet,” I say, releasing him. “But we can guess what will happen if she learns the truth. Jacquetta is the only one who can dig up information without raising suspicion.”
Roland huffs. “And why would you do that, Other Mistress Witch? Something tells me it’s not out of the kindness of your heart.”
Jacquetta scowls, keeping her weapon raised. “My mother is missing. Ayleth agreed to search for her.”
“Missing, is she?” Roland asks. “Afraid I can’t offer my condolences on that. In fact, I hope that witch mother of yours got what was coming to her.”
Jacquetta’s jaw sets. She advances on Roland, but I step between them again.
“Enough,” I say. “We need to focus on the bigger problems at hand.”
“And what might those be?” Roland demands.
“The substance we found in the Mine,” I explain. “There’s more of it—leaking out of a tree in the forest near the palace.”
He gapes at me. “What?”
I nod. “Yes. That’s why I called you here. Have you learned anything else about what it could have been, or what caused it?”
“Me? Shouldn’t you be asking her?” He thumbs toward Jacquetta. “Her lot put it there.”
“No, we didn’t,” Jacquetta replies, annoyed.
“But you blew up the Mines.”
Her cheeks redden again. “Yes. But we used fireroot for that. What we saw in the forest was something else.”
“She’s right,” I agree. “But I’m convinced it was at the Mine as well. In the crypt, Miranda mentioned Spirits. I know you didn’t believe her at the time, but maybe she was on to something.”
“Aye,” Roland says. “I’ll ask her—if I ever see her again.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s gone,” Roland replies. “Her and a handful of others. My guess is that they left to try their luck elsewhere. Can’t say that I blame them, given recent events.”
He pins Jacquetta with a dark look, his gemstone-colored eyes like daggers.
But my own mind whirrs. I think of what Shade told me about Nox’s disappearance. Jacquetta’s stories about disturbances. What if the Dwarves didn’t just leave on their own? If Nerissa didn’t? What if there is someone else out there?
Someone better than you, that voice taunts. Stronger.
Fear threads through my veins.
“Just…ask around, will you?” I say, shaking away my worries for the time being.
Roland grumbles something under his breath.
“Fine,” he relents at last. “I’ll do what I can.
But both of you Mistress Witches had best pray that none of mine discover your little guest here.
I won’t be able to hold them back if they do.
And I won’t want to, do you understand?” He shakes a finger at Jacquetta.
“I don’t care what agreement you two have cooked up.
You coven witches have plenty to answer for at the end of this war. And I’ll see to it that you do.”
With that, he storms over to the nearest wall, summons a door, and then slams it shut behind him.
“Well, that went about as well as it could have, I suppose. With any luck, he’ll…” I trail off, noticing that Jacquetta is staring at me. “What?”
“We have plenty to answer for?” she asks, accusing.
“What did you expect? After the Mines, Roland can hardly—”
“But he doesn’t know why we attacked them in the first place, does he?” Jacquetta interrupts. “He doesn’t know what you did.”
“He’s aware that I broke the Veil, if that’s what you’re getting at,” I say. “He doesn’t mind. In fact, Roland forged my crown.”
“And does he know you control Malum?” she presses, pointing her makeshift weapon at me. “That the entire reason the covens are involved in this war is because you’re stealing our magic?”
A log collapses in the fire. Jacquetta reads the truth in my silence.
She laughs, low in her throat. “And you accuse me of dishonesty. Of becoming someone I’m not. You can’t even admit what you are to those closest to you.”
Her words hit like a slap. Shadows dart around me.
“Why didn’t you tell him, then, if it bothers you so much?” I ask.
Jacquetta lifts her chin. “Maybe I should.”
Malum expands behind my sternum. Shadows creep closer.
“Do it,” I dare her, sensing the darkness spread behind me like wings. “Then you’ll never find Nerissa. You’ll never leave here alive.”
She looks at me, firelight flickering over the hard angles of her face. “This is all you really care about, isn’t it? This stupid court. A crown. A prophecy. None of it’s real, Ayleth.”
“It’s more real than you are,” I retort. Than we were. “And at least it’s mine. Something I built.”
“Perhaps,” Jacquetta says softly. “But sooner or later it’s all going to come crashing down around you. What’s going to be left when it does?”