Chapter Forty-Two Blodwyn
Chapter Forty-Two
Blodwyn
My arrow sails across the yard, sinking with a satisfying thunk into the target. A dozen or so other shots protrude from the straw-filled dummy, their red fletching making it appear as though the thing is riddled with gaping wounds.
I haven’t been able to think straight since I left Ayleth’s chambers last night.
I was right about her. All she ever cared about was her own power.
Every word she said to me was a lie. Perhaps I should feel vindicated at knowing that my instincts were correct.
But instead, I feel…hollow. So impossibly sad.
Because I thought I had a friend again. A sister, even. Now Ayleth has taken that from me, too.
I grit my teeth against the anger roiling in my veins and fire off another shot, picturing Ayleth’s face on the target.
“So…your mother wrote about the lost princess?” Verity asks, bringing me back into the practice yard. “How did she know about her?”
Seeing as my alliance with Ayleth has ended, I had to tell someone about what was happening. To my surprise, Verity absorbed the story in stride, hardly blinking when I shared that I thought an ancient princess had resurrected herself. That my own mother might have been involved.
I have paid the price of blood and snow.
“I wish I knew,” I say, fiddling with my bow. “Her other journals don’t even hint at what she was thinking. Which means I’m no closer to learning the truth than when that wretched creature dragged itself out of the void.”
Frustration rekindles inside me and I release another arrow. This time, though, I miss and nearly impale a passing servant on the other side of the practice yard.
“Careful,” Verity warns, gently extracting my bow from my hands and casting a worried look in the direction of the servant. “Perhaps it doesn’t matter. If this plan with the covens succeeds, then they’ll banish Malum. The lost princess as well, with any luck.”
That’s what everyone else is saying, too. That capturing the witches will stop the war and destroy the creature. But that hope doesn’t ring true in my mind.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this plan with the covens,” I admit. “Why would they agree to help us if Ayleth tosses them in our dungeons?”
Verity frowns. “Maybe you should talk to the queen. If she knew—”
“No,” I interrupt.
In explaining about my mother’s journal and the lost princess, I omitted Ayleth’s involvement.
As well as everything else I learned about the so-called queen.
Not out of loyalty, as I certainly don’t owe Ayleth an ounce of that.
But if I reveal her secret, does that make me any better than Ayleth is, exploiting the people around me for my own gain?
“She wouldn’t understand,” I say instead. “Or she wouldn’t care. She’s obsessed with her own power, the same as my aunt and—”
“My father.”
Another voice reaches us and I turn to find Gavin approaching. I stiffen. How much did he overhear? If it was enough that he learned about Mother’s journal, he doesn’t show it.
“What are you doing here?” Verity asks, echoing my own question.
“I came to find you,” he says to me. “I think we should leave.”
“Leave?” I repeat. “You can’t be—”
“I know how it sounds,” he says. “But I think we can both agree that capturing the covens is only going to make things worse. And there’s no point in trying to dissuade the council. All anyone cares about is winning.”
“And you don’t?” Verity asks, arching an eyebrow. “You’re the one who issued the challenge.”
He flushes slightly.
“Yes. And at the time, I was certain that it was the right thing to do. But with everything that’s happened…” He pauses. Runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure what any of this means anymore.”
He’s not the only one. My own mind is a snare of doubts.
“And so you just want to walk away?” I ask.
“Not entirely,” he replies. “And not from Riven. With the trials suspended, we should use this time to our advantage. Go to my estate. Muster the men there and march on the palace.”
“March here?” I ask, incredulous. “What, with pitchforks?”
“Others will join us,” he says, far more confident than I am. “And if we leave, they won’t be able to resume the trials. They’ll have to listen.”
Much as the prospect terrifies me, I can’t deny that there’s some logic in Gavin’s strategy.
Aunt Margaret has been using her army as leverage since we arrived.
But if we showed up here with troops of our own, the council would be forced to take us seriously.
To stop treating us like the markers on the map they rearrange at will.
“Hold on,” Verity cuts in. “Even if this insane plan works, only one person can sit on the throne. Are you expecting Blodwyn to go with you, to rally your men, all so you can come back here and win the trials?”
It’s a good question, one I should have considered myself. Gavin looks at me, the flecks of gold standing out in his brown eyes.
“I understand if you don’t trust me,” he says. “And I have no idea what’s going to happen next. But I know what will happen if we stay. This is the only chance we have to stop this madness. Change things. If we don’t try now, we never will.”
His words resonate in a deep place within me. There are a thousand reasons to refuse him—Mother’s journal and the princess who vowed to track me down and eat my heart. How am I going to solve any of that if I run off with Gavin? But I also don’t know how I’m going to solve it if I stay here.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll go.”
—
In the end, we decide that the best time to escape the palace will be after Ayleth departs to meet the covens. Which means we only have two days to prepare.
Verity is right. This plan is complete insanity.
When I left the White Palace the first time, I’d been so delirious with fever that I hardly comprehended what was happening.
Now I am acutely aware of the potential consequences of my actions.
Aunt Margaret will be furious. Ayleth as well, especially given what I know about her.
She’ll waste no time in dispatching the Hunt to scour the realm for us.
But will she do worse? Use her power to wreak her revenge?
I don’t know. But I’m not going to sit here, taking no part in my own future.
Whatever happens next, at least the mistake will be entirely mine.
“Is this really all you’re packing?”
Verity rummages through my sack, frowning as she withdraws a pair of stockings. They, along with the skirts and bodice, are the plainest things I’ve ever worn. They should be, seeing as I stole them from the servants’ wardrobe.
“I can’t exactly fit a trunk on the back of a horse,” I remind her.
Which is what Gavin and I will be taking tomorrow night. I can almost feel the time counting down, my nerves buzzing.
“You could at least bring something nice,” Verity says. “Or less…drab.”
“I can’t be recognized. It’s a long way to Gavin’s estate.”
“That’s right. A whole week, didn’t he say? Think of all that time together…riding through forests. Sleeping under the stars.”
She waggles her eyebrows and I splash some water at her from the fountain.
“It’s not like that.”
“Yet,” she replies with that sly grin. “But I imagine it could be. If…that’s what you want? Or are you still determined to avoid love?”
“No one said anything about love,” I reply, cursing the heat in my cheeks.
Verity merely laughs. “Oh, of course not. I’m sure Gavin has plenty of other reasons for whisking you off to his estate.”
“I’m not being whisked,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And he does have other reasons—as do I. This is strategy. We’re mustering an army.”
“Mustering an army, falling in love,” Verity replies, waving a hand. “It’s all the same to me. I see the way he looks at you.”
An image of Gavin’s smile, the dimples in his cheeks, surfaces in my mind. Even I can admit that he isn’t who I assumed he was. But does that mean I could love him?
A meow interrupts my thoughts. Nettle bursts from behind the fronds of a fern, snatches the stockings from my hands, and darts off with them.
“Wait!” I call after her. “Give those back!”
But the cat has vanished. I huff an irritated breath. Now I have to steal another pair.
“What’s gotten into her?” Verity asks.
“She’s been like this since I started packing.”
“Maybe she’s already missing you,” Verity suggests.
I frown at that. Surly as the cat can be, I’ll miss her as well.
And not just Nettle. Something skitters near my feet and I look down to find Crumbs.
I scoop the hedgehog into my cupped hands, his tiny nose quivering.
My attention drifts to the other parts of the menagerie—the family of rabbits and my tortoise, Lucille.
It’s strange to be leaving this place behind, especially when I’m not sure when—or if—I’ll return.
“Will you take care of everything here?” I ask Verity. “Make sure it’s being kept up?”
“Of course,” she assures me. “But don’t worry. You’ll be back before you know it and then we’ll have lots of celebrating to do.”
Maybe. But a crow calls overhead, its shadow skimming over the menagerie. I recall the bird who flew at my window before the first trial. The blood has long since washed away, but there’s a small fissure where its beak punctured the glass.
It was looking for you, that voice whispers.
Just like the princess.