Chapter Fifty-Nine Blodwyn
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Blodwyn
The White Palace is shrouded in shadows.
It has never felt less like my home as I stand on the hillside, watching the White City below.
According to Aunt Margaret, the Rycinthian troops are still a few days out, but it looks as though a battle has occurred here already.
Smoke drifts up from the distant buildings.
Murders of crows wheel above the turrets of the palace.
A dark cloud hangs over the rooftops, which only worsens the sense of dread humming in my veins.
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Ayleth says beside me. “I can go with you.”
“Aye,” Roland chimes in. “No sense in getting yourself killed. Might as well let Mistress Witch die first.”
She glowers at him. “Thank you for that.”
In all honesty, turning around sounds like the smart thing to do. Even from here, I can sense the danger radiating from the palace. But if we don’t retrieve Papa’s mirror, we have no hope of surviving whatever is next.
“I have to be the one to go,” I say, as much to myself as the others. “I have the best chance of getting in and out without being caught. Verity will help, in any case.”
I decided to involve her as soon as we finalized our plan. I’ll need someone I can trust within the palace walls and I can’t think of anyone else who would agree to such a reckless endeavor.
Ayleth frowns. “You’re certain that’s a good idea? I know you’re friends, but—”
“She won’t betray me,” I say.
After all, Verity didn’t scheme to lock me away in her family estate. Not like Gavin. I clench my fists against his memory. Maybe Papa reinstated the trials and named him his heir. He’d always wanted a son.
“Are you finished with your farewells yet?” the other witch, Sindony, calls from where the others are clustered near the door Roland summoned on an outcropping of rock. “Or are we going to stand here blubbering all day?”
Ayleth makes a face in her direction.
“Is she always like that?” I ask.
“Worse, usually,” Ayleth returns. “But remember the plan: As soon as you locate the mirror, let Margaret know. She can tell us. We’ll be there as soon as possible. And no matter what Sindony says, this isn’t farewell.”
“No,” I agree, even though neither of us knows if that’s really true.
“All right, then,” she says, taking my hands. It might be my imagination, but I think I feel a tingling sensation where Millicent’s mark rests. “Good luck and be careful.”
With that, she lets me go and joins the others.
“You’ll listen to her, won’t you?” Roland asks. “Take care and all that?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you worried about me?”
“ ’Course not,” he says, waving me off. But I note the slight flush in his cheeks. “It’s just that…I’m sorry I can’t get you closer to the palace. Probably makes me a coward, but with your father awake…”
“I understand,” I tell him. “I’d never ask you to go back there after what you endured. And I meant what I said—I would never do the same.”
“Aye, well,” he says, scrubbing the back of his neck. “Hope we get the chance to find out. Try not to die in there.”
It’s as close to genuine sentiment as I expect I’ll receive from the Dwarf. He fusses with his keys a moment longer, then hurries off. I watch until the last member of the the party ducks through Roland’s door. Then I turn and face the palace, its many windows like dark eyes, watching me.
A crow calls overhead, its cry resonating in the marrow of my bones.
—
Given the chaos of the past weeks, it’s not a surprise to find heightened security at the city gates.
It takes what seems an eternity to bypass the guards, through the maze of streets, and into the palace courtyard.
From there, I manage to sneak into the kitchens, where I locate a familiar entrance to the servants’ passages and head toward Verity’s rooms in the nobles’ wing.
Though it’s only been days, it feels like a hundred years have passed since I walked these deserted halls.
My footsteps are nearly soundless on the dust-carpeted floor, my ears pricked for any hint of the guards as I make my way through the cobweb-covered corridors.
But luck is on my side. I don’t pass anyone, and slip into the main chamber of Verity’s suite undetected.
Still, I can feel the time getting away from me.
A clock chimes eight bells in the silence of the rooms. Even the fire is low in the grate, the dying embers casting an ominous glow over the furnishings.
“Verity?” I whisper.
A draft snakes around me, stirring the curtains, which billow inward like wraiths.
Across the chamber, I think I see the darkness move.
The shadows lengthen. My heart kicks in my chest. Is that the shadow creature who chased me through the forest?
Ayleth’s former Huntsman, or so I learned.
A creature who now serves her mother. The place on my palm stings and I start to back away, grappling for the door.
A blur of black pounces into my path and I yelp, stumbling backward. But then I immediately recognize a familiar trill.
“Nettle!” I scold, my heart still racing. “What are you doing in here? And where—”
Too late, I register the rush of footsteps. Nettle yowls and I barely manage to leap backward as a large, blunt object swings past my face.
“Get out you—” Verity halts, still clutching what I think is a mallet. “Blodwyn?”
“Yes!” I gasp out before she bludgeons me. “It’s me!”
Verity drops her weapon, which is indeed a mallet, and throws her arms around me. “You’re back! Oh, thank everything. Did Gavin find you?”
I pull away from her. “Gavin?”
Even Nettle meows, confused. He’s the last person who would want me to return. But Verity nods emphatically.
“He showed up here not long after you were supposed to leave together,” she says. “He…explained what happened. About his father.”
“He did?” That surprises me.
“Yes,” she confirms. “I almost strangled him for it.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask. Nettle voices her evident agreement.
“I didn’t have the heart,” Verity admits, sheepish. “He seemed so…broken. I think he’d been crying. As far as I’m aware, he’s been gone ever since. I assumed he went off searching for you.”
I frown, taking this in. What if he had been looking for me? If he was worried? But I shake that away. If Gavin was concerned about me it was likely because he failed in his father’s plan. Not for any other reason.
“He’s not why I’m back,” I say. “I need to find something in the old wings of the palace. Will you help? I know it—”
“Of course,” she agrees before I can finish. “Whatever you need.”
“Don’t you want to know what it is?” I ask.
Verity sighs, exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you—you’re my friend. Which means I’m on your side. No matter what.”
Emotion tightens in my chest. At this point, Verity may be the only friend I have.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll explain it all on the way. But I’m not exaggerating when I say it will be dangerous.”
Verity merely grins. “Excellent.”
Nettle meows, swishing her tail. I shake my head at them both, then make for the servants’ passages.
Just before we duck inside, I take one last look over my shoulder.
The room is empty. But one of the curtains billows inward again.
As it settles, I swear that I can see the glimmer of a pair of crimson eyes.
—
Nettle lopes beside us as we navigate to the Order’s abandoned wing.
I warned Verity that we might have to evade Papa’s guards, but the halls are empty, filled only with shadows and the remnants of the Order.
Still, I can’t shake the needling sensation of being watched.
Can’t stop pressing my thumb into the place where Millicent’s mark rests, like it might offer protection.
“So…you’re a witch now?” Verity asks.
As promised, I filled her in about everything that’s happened since I left the palace.
All my discoveries about Millicent and my mother.
Even about Ayleth. Verity never once doubted me, just nodded along like the events of the last weeks—the fact that the queen is a witch—were the most natural occurrences in the world.
She was especially thrilled by the idea that I’ve been gifted the Ancient’s power.
“If I am a witch, I certainly don’t feel like one,” I admit, studying the triangle stamped into my palm.
In fact, the more I think about it, the more I believe Sindony was right and my meeting with the Ancient was all a strange dream.
“Well, I think you are. And I always knew there was something interesting about you,” Verity says, throwing me a wink. “All this seems fitting, somehow. It’s like you’re the lost princess herself, reclaiming her throne.”
I snort a laugh at that. “Except I have no idea how to be queen.”
“You’ll figure that out,” Verity replies, with far more confidence than I possess. “Besides, you can’t really do worse than our current arrangement.”
“Do you mean Papa? Ayleth told me that he’s awake.”
“Yes,” Verity agrees. “It’s all been…bizarre. Everyone seems overjoyed at the king’s recovery, but it still doesn’t seem right to me.”
Another chill skitters down my spine. My candle flickers in the draft.
“Has he mentioned me?” I ask.
“Not at all. That’s another strange thing. There’s been no talk of you or the queen. And especially not the trials. In fact, from what I can gather, most of the council is pretending that they were never called at all. Even Lord Warbeck.”
That is interesting, though I suppose it shouldn’t be too shocking.
Perhaps Lord Warbeck doesn’t have the spine to stand up against Papa like he did with Ayleth.
Still…if the trials have been permanently abandoned, I assume that means Lord Warbeck’s coup is thwarted as well.
So then why would Gavin have left the palace to search for me?
“Was he really upset?” I ask Verity. “Gavin.”
“Extremely. And like I said, he’s been gone since you left.”
“He’s probably off gathering his own forces,” I say, as much to myself as to Verity. “I’m sure his father is just putting on a show of loyalty to distract Papa.”
“Maybe,” Verity says, thoughtful. “But it’s a very good show. And Lord Warbeck doesn’t strike me as a particularly talented actor.”
“Gavin is,” I counter. “He was planning to kidnap me.”
“Yes,” Verity agrees. “And we can both bludgeon him with mallets when we see him again if you like. But…”
“What?”
“Maybe he really did make a mistake. A colossal one, certainly,” she adds at my skeptical eyebrow. “But he wouldn’t be the first, would he? Especially where families are concerned?”
She nudges me with her elbow, no doubt referencing when I’d pushed her away after Aunt Margaret’s meddling. Is this the same thing? I’m not sure.
In any case, all thoughts of Gavin fade as we reach the flame-like doors leading to the former High Priest’s chambers.
I ease them open slowly, ears tuned for the sound of movement within.
There’s only silence, which is somehow more unsettling.
If the mirror is here, why didn’t Papa station a guard?
Has he moved it? I hope not. We don’t have time to search the rest of the palace.
“No wonder this place was boarded up,” Verity whispers as we follow Nettle through the maze of the High Priest’s chambers. “It gives me a horrible feeling.”
“Just wait until you see what’s underneath it,” I add darkly.
The wardrobe waits on the far wall of the bedchamber. I start to make my way over to it and locate the hidden door within, but Nettle meows, winding herself around my ankles.
“Watch out,” I warn, nearly tripping over her. She just trills and puts herself back in my path. “What’s the matter with you?”
I finally manage to nudge her away. But as soon as I touch the wardrobe door, the mark on my hand sears with pain. Nettle growls and flattens her ears as the wardrobe bursts open from the inside. A figure waits within, his black robes rippling like shadow.
“Princess,” Master Parnell says. “Welcome home. We’ve been expecting you.”
—
What seems the whole of the White Court is gathered in the throne room.
Verity hadn’t gone easily, thrashing and threatening the entire way from Ignatius’s secret chambers.
But I remained quiet, the weight of my failure dragging me down like a wet cloak.
How did Papa know I was here? Has he captured the others?
But those questions, and all other thoughts, drain away as soon as I spot Papa himself.
He sits on his throne, one leg crossed over the other.
And even though Ayleth told me he was awake, there’s something jarring about the sight of him.
Unnatural. Because it’s as if no time at all has passed.
As if Papa was never ill or injured. His once sallow, waxy skin glows with health.
His too-thin frame is filling out again.
Even the jagged scar on his face has all but healed.
But most disturbing of all is the way Papa’s gray eyes gleam as they lock with mine.
It is the same look I’d seen Aunt Margaret wear every time she won at cards. My nerves hum.
“Daughter,” he says. “It’s a relief to see you safely returned. We were all so worried.”
He gestures to the rest of the room and it’s only then that I notice the details of the chamber, which is once again decorated as if for a celebration.
White roses hang in garlands or loll out of huge vases.
Ribbons of white and gold are woven around the gallery of the upper story.
The air is thick with the scent of wine and food.
But no one is partaking in it. In fact, none in the audience appear as though they’re attending a party at all.
They look as though they dressed in a rush, pins sticking out of their hair.
Sleeves unfastened and doublets open. They cluster close together, anxious. And afraid, I register.
It still doesn’t seem right…
Verity’s words resurface and I find the other young woman’s gaze in the crowd. She appears as terrified and bewildered as the others.
“What is this?” I ask Papa.
“It’s for you, of course,” he replies, smiling. “Or did you think I’d forget about your final trial?”
My trial? But Verity said they were canceled.
“It took me some time to decide what your judgment should be,” Papa goes on. “But I think I’ve landed on the perfect answer. Bring in the prisoner!”
Gasps ricochet around the chamber as the guards haul someone else through the huge doors. I turn and dread spiders over my scalp.
It’s Ayleth.