Chapter Forty-Six Ayleth
Chapter Forty-Six
Ayleth
Thunder rolls over Riven, its low growl reverberating against the panes of the carriage windows.
By some miracle, we managed to locate our horses and then bolted back to the camp, which was far enough away from the Sanctum that Selene’s forces hadn’t yet overtaken it.
I ordered the carriage to depart immediately and now we’re barreling back to the palace.
After today, I’m not certain what we’ll find there.
Scenes from the battle replay in my mind: The trees uprooting themselves and charging on their tentacle-like legs.
Witches torn apart like rag dolls. The corpse-like creature standing in the center of it all, shadows massing around her.
My shadows.
Not anymore, though. I may not understand all of what happened, but I’m sure of that much. I can still picture Shade, Della’s heart glowing in his hand, his crimson eyes glittering with anger and something worse…hatred. For me.
I serve the true queen.
His words drum through my mind, sharp-edged and brutal.
I press a hand to my chest, where the pulse of Malum is practically nonexistent.
I’ve attempted to call my shadows a dozen times since leaving the Sanctum, but they continue to ignore me.
Their betrayal is bitter. I’ve sacrificed so much for my power and even it has rejected me.
And why wouldn’t it? that vicious voice asks.
A noise across the carriage breaks me out of my thoughts. Jacquetta, wrapped in a blanket, has folded herself into a corner. She hasn’t spoken since we fled the Sanctum. She doesn’t need to. I recognize the raw, guttural grief in her silence. The same burden I carried after Rhea died.
“Jacquetta?” I call softly.
At long last, she turns to me. She looks so lost. So sad.
“They…used me,” she says, her voice hardly above a whisper. “She used me.”
I don’t have to ask who she means. And it would be easy to rub salt in her wound.
Remind her that the covens used me as well.
That she did. But those words don’t come.
After all, I know what it’s like to love someone even at their worst. To keep hoping that they’ll choose you, even when they’ve proven otherwise.
“I’m sorry,” I say instead.
“Spirits, I’m such a fool,” she mutters. “They’re exactly who you said they are. And I knew that deep down. I knew and still I…”
She trails off, clenching her blanket.
“Don’t blame yourself,” I say. “It’s not all your fault. What you said at the palace was true. I allowed the covens to control my life. Tied myself to the words of some meaningless prophecy…”
I trail off, shame knotting in my chest. All this time, I convinced myself that Malum separated me from the covens. That I was better than them—stronger and smarter. But I’m just like Selene and the others. Worse, perhaps.
Jacquetta is quiet for a long while.
“You were right as well,” she says at last, picking at her blanket. “I should have listened to you that day at Stonehaven. Should have stayed with you instead of going back.”
My breath catches. I never expected her to bring that up again.
And I’m dying to ask her why she didn’t stay.
To go over every wound and finally stitch them closed.
But I don’t. Because if we talk about our past, we might wind up going down that road again.
And we can’t. I can’t. I know where it leads.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say, as much to myself as to Jacquetta. “We have to focus on what’s ahead.”
Jacquetta stiffens slightly, something that might be hurt passing over her expression. But she quicky recovers. And I ignore the ache in my own heart.
“Is there anything ahead?” she asks with a hollow laugh. “The covens can’t help us and that creature is still loose. From what we saw today, she’s only getting stronger.”
“This is just the beginning,” I say darkly. “Now that she has the Bloodstones, it will be even worse. She’ll use them to take the last of the witches’ power—if she doesn’t kill them outright. Once she succeeds in that…”
Outside the window, the countryside is barely visible through the sluicing rain. The shadows take on strange shapes and the wind moans, its low howl enough like the sound of the enchanted trees that I shudder.
“Do you really think that’s why she took the crown?” Jacquetta asks, thoughtful. “To steal our power?”
“Why else?”
The creature’s bloodlust is certainly why Shade swore himself to her service.
“I don’t know,” Jacquetta replies, frowning.
“But there seems to be something missing in all this. The creature showed up at the ball bent on killing the princess, or so it seemed. But if she wanted Blodwyn, why not take her at the hunt? Or any other time, for that matter? Why even follow us here? Her movements don’t make sense. ”
Now that I consider it, Jacquetta has a point.
If the creature was capable of tearing open the floor of the Great Hall, why not just snatch Blodwyn out of her bed?
The crown, too. And why did she bother waiting until our meeting to attack?
She could have ambushed the witches herself on their way to the Sanctum. Us as well. It’s almost as if…
She’s been acting on orders.
Another roll of thunder rattles the carriage windows.
“Maybe they do make sense,” I say to Jacquetta. “Just not to us. Because someone else is telling her what to do. The creature didn’t return simply because the Veil fell. Someone summoned her here.”
“Summoned her?” Jacquetta repeats. “Who? Not the witches.”
“No,” I agree.
Even if they possessed the ability, the timing is suspect. If Selene could raise the dead, she wouldn’t have bothered with such paltry measures as blowing up the Mines.
“Based on when we saw the creature, it would have to be someone who knew the details of the trials,” I reason. “Not to mention this meeting.”
My mind races, considering the possible culprits. I’d like to believe that I wasn’t blind enough to miss a secret witch living under my nose. Besides, Shade or Callen would have rooted them out, wouldn’t they? Unless…they were very good at hiding.
The answer lands in my mind with the next clap of thunder.
“Margaret.”
Jacquetta gapes at me. “The duchess? But she’s not…”
“A witch?” I ask. “Do we actually know that? Or anything else about her? Think about it—the attacks began after Margaret’s return. She’s the one who called the trials. She’s been privy to every council meeting. Knows the inner workings of court better than anyone.”
And, most of all, she knows I wouldn’t have suspected her for an instant. But perhaps someone else did.
“This was the scandal we were investigating,” I say, certainty ringing in my mind. “If Margaret was caught dabbling in witchcraft, the royal family would have done anything to cover it up. They must have sent her away as soon as they caught her.”
And this probably explains why Callen wasn’t aware of the incident. He wouldn’t have waited a second to send Margaret to the pyre, sister or not.
“I still don’t understand,” Jacquetta continues. “Why would Margaret come back here and put Blodwyn forth for the trials if she planned to summon an undead creature and murder everyone?”
It might be a valid question—if we weren’t discussing Margaret.
Pieces fly together in my mind. The duchess’s eagerness to visit.
The way she’d inserted herself back into court, instantly becoming its center.
She acted as though the White Palace already belonged to her because, in her eyes, it did.
All she needed to do was wait for her creature to get rid of me.
That’s probably why she agreed to Jacquetta’s plan with the covens in the first place. It gave her the perfect opportunity.
“To avoid suspicion,” I say simply. “Margaret summoned the creature so that she could banish it herself—after it eliminated everything else that stood in her way.”
Another flash of lightning illuminates the carriage. With it, a darker thought looms: I’m not the only one Margaret would need to remove to claim the throne.
Which means I have to get back to the palace—back to Blodwyn—before it’s too late.
—
The storm follows us for the remainder of the journey. Before the carriage even slows to a full stop in the courtyard, I leap out the door and hurry into the palace, a single thought looping through my mind: Find Blodwyn.
Our last argument haunts me. I’d been so cruel to her. Pushed her aside for my own power. Left her alone and helpless with Margaret.
You don’t care, that voice insists.
Right now, nothing could be further from the truth.
“Your Majesty!” Master Parnell intercepts us in the front hall. “Is something amiss? You were supposed to send word and—” He stops short when he registers Jacquetta. “What is she—”
“She’s with me,” I interrupt, yanking off my rain-soaked cloak and flinging it at a servant. “And we couldn’t send word. There was an ambush. Most of our party was killed.”
“An ambush?” It’s not often that I see shock on my steward’s expression. “How—”
“Later. Where’s the princess?”
Master Parnell blinks. “I’m not certain, Your Majesty. There was an incident and Her Highness fled. The guards said they saw her riding away from the palace on the stag, of all things. They’re out looking for her now.”
The stag? Jacquetta and I exchange a worried look.
“What about Margaret?” I ask.
“I believe the duchess is in her rooms,” he replies. “But why—”
“Send word to the guards. The duchess is not to leave the palace under any circumstances. And double the number searching for Blodwyn.”
Because I’m not entirely convinced that Margaret dispatched a party at all. The creature might be lurking nearby. Dread pools in my belly. I have to find her—now.
The servants wisely veer out of our path as Jacquetta and I hurry through the corridors. I don’t even knock once we reach Margaret’s rooms and barge inside. The duchess is seated at a table near the fire, sifting through stacks of papers.
“It’s the middle of the night,” she says, annoyed. “What on earth do you—”