Chapter Fifty-Three Ayleth #2
She motions to Shade, who withdraws something from the folds of his body: the crimson crown. The broken Bloodstones glimmer in the light and that old yearning kicks up, urging me to reach. Take.
“You’re wrong,” I say, fighting the impulse. “And so was I. Nothing good ever came from that crown.”
“Nothing?” Mother clicks her tongue. “You destroyed the Veil. Defeated the covens. The king himself. You are the queen from the prophecy, Daughter. The true queen.”
Again, that injured part of my soul pulses. How long have I waited for her to finally see me? To judge me as good—as worthy—as Rhea? The mark on my palm prickles.
“If this is how you felt, then why did you walk away from me before?”
When I needed her?
“I didn’t see your full potential,” she says.
“None of them did. But sending me away was the best thing you could have done for me. It forced me to recognize Selene and the others for what they were: arrogant and stubborn and wrong. But you, Ayleth. You could become the most powerful witch living. So much stronger than you were before. Even stronger than the Ancients. Let me show you how. Trust me. Just one more time. You will not regret it.”
Yes, my Huntsman rasps. Come back to us.
His shadows brush against me and I can’t help but lean into their touch. The loss of my power is like the loss of a limb. It would be so easy to agree. To take it back. Feel whole again.
But I don’t get the chance to do anything.
A roar echoes across the yard as a blur of black bounds out of the trees.
Instantly, I register the gleam of a single crimson eye. Nox? Another beast charges out of the forest alongside him: a massive white stag sporting a broken antler. It’s the same beast from the hunt. But what on earth are they doing here—and together?
There’s no time to puzzle it out. Mother manages to use the shadows to deflect the stag, but she isn’t fast enough to avoid Nox.
The Nevenwolf barrels into her, pinning her to the ground.
Shade reacts at once, sending his shadows against the beast. Nox howls and leaps away from Mother, who summons her own power and begins to retaliate in earnest.
Do something, my mind screams.
But what? The knife in my hand is about as effective as a needle and—
My hand pauses at my pocket, feeling the shard of glass. Margaret.
An idea lights in my mind and I fumble the piece of mirror free.
“Margaret!” I call, tapping furiously at the glass. “Wake up! Now!”
The duchess’s face finally appears. “Stop screaming at me! What do you want?”
“Summon the crows. Hurry!”
“How am I supposed to—”
“Just do it!” I yell.
She scowls at me but huffs a sigh and concentrates. Across the yard, Nox is still battling Mother, but it isn’t going well. The stag roars at Shade’s next attack. If it wasn’t a killing blow, it was close enough. Mother advances and I’m sure that I’m too late.
And then a cloud darkens the sky. Not a storm, but a flock of crows.
Their calls rise in a sinister chorus, the entire murder soaring together in a haunting rhythm. Then, like a hundred tiny cannon shots, they plummet. Mother bellows in outrage, flailing as talons rend her flesh and beaks peck at her eyes. Shade whirls away into his shadows.
“Stop this!”
A blast of power explodes from Mother’s outstretched hands, scattering the crows in all directions. Her gaze finds mine. This look, I recognize. It smolders with fury.
“It’s clear that you won’t see reason,” she says. “Not yet, anyway.”
Mother snaps her fingers and tendrils of shadows slither out from inside the cottage. Shade follows. My stomach drops. Because suspended in his arms is…
“Blodwyn!” I cry, sprinting toward them.
Shade sends a rope of shadow to wind around Blodwyn’s neck, halting me in my tracks.
“Let her go!” I demand. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with this,” Mother replies. “And if you want her back so badly, then I suggest you find me. And come alone.”
With that, Mother signals to Shade. Shadows swirl in a cyclone around her and she swallowed into their depths, Shade and Blodwyn with her. All I can do is stare at the place where they disappeared, cursing my own helplessness. My own failure.
“Ayleth!” Joan rushes out of the cottage. “I’m so sorry. I tried to stop it but—”
“It’s all right,” I tell her. “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt worse. And—”
A groan reaches my ears.
Jacquetta.
Joan and I hurry over to where the other witch is struggling to push herself upright.
“What the hell happened?” she asks, wincing as she tests her limbs.
“Some…creature took the princess,” Joan explains.
“Not a creature,” I say, my jaw tensing. “Shade. And my mother.”
Jacquetta’s eyes widen. “Cassandra? But she—”
Chickens startle as someone else enters the yard. I lurch to my feet, raising my blade.
“Don’t come any—” The rest falls away as I register a Dwarvian man wearing a familiar red cap. I blink. “Roland?”
His mouth drops open as he surveys the damage.
The goats’ stable is leaning precariously to one side.
The chicken coop is in shambles. The door to the cottage has been blown off its hinges.
The yard is littered with countless feathers left behind by the crows, not to mention the tree limbs and other debris.
“Mistress Witch,” Roland grinds out, fixing me with a murderous glare, “will you kindly explain what happened to my house?”