Chapter Sixty-One Ayleth
Chapter Sixty-One
Ayleth
“I never should have let you out of that dungeon,” Roland complains. “Nothing like this ever used to happen to me before I met you.”
“I entirely agree with him,” another person chimes in. Sindony. She and the other witches have joined us, all staring out at the chaos unfolding below.
“Don’t—” Jacquetta starts, but I wave her off.
“She’s right,” I say. So much of this is my fault.
Below us, Mother raises her arms. Bruise-colored clouds build, heavy and ominous. Thunder cracks and then lightning spears the flagstones, leaving a smoking crater behind. A wagon and other debris tumble into the void.
“Spirits,” Jacquetta murmurs beside me. “Does she intend to destroy the whole place?”
I think she does. If she doesn’t get what she wants, Mother will lay waste to everything in her wake, just as I was planning to do when I broke the Veil.
The similarity sends a shudder through me.
When I look at Mother now, I see myself, a witch consumed by rage and vengeance.
How could I have allowed myself to lose sight of so much?
“I’ll gather my men,” Gavin says. “We can surround her and—”
“Let her flatten you?” I ask dryly.
“We can’t just sit here,” Blodwyn argues.
No. In fact, every instinct screams at me to run. But I refuse to let myself give in to it.
“We stick to the plan,” I say, with a confidence I absolutely do not feel. “Get the crown.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” Sindony asks, nodding to the courtyard. “Ask her nicely?”
Mother summons another lightning strike. It hits the pyre and the whole thing blazes to life. Not unlike an Ascension fire. The mark on my palm prickles and I turn my hand over, studying the three crossed lines. If Rhea were here, she’d know what to do. She would—
A thought surfaces. Something Joan said: Love is the most powerful magic I know.
Perhaps she’s right.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” I say. “I’ll go out there. Talk to her.”
“Talk to her?” Jacquetta echoes.
Even Sindony looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I wasn’t serious. Do you remember what happened at Stonehaven? If you have a death wish, that’s fine, but—”
“She won’t kill me,” I say, though I’m not entirely convinced that’s true. “And there might still be a way to reach her.”
I look to Joan, who nods, understanding.
“Ayleth, you can’t—” Jacquetta starts.
“I have to try,” I insist. “She’s my mother.”
Jacquetta hesitates a moment longer.
“All right,” she allows at last. “Then I’m going with you.”
“So am I.” This time, it’s Blodwyn.
“Absolutely not,” I say, flatly. “She will kill you.”
“Yes,” Verity agrees, wide-eyed. “Didn’t you tell me that was the whole point? That she wants to eat your heart? You can’t go down there and serve it to her.”
“Your heart?” Gavin asks, horrified.
“I’ll explain later.” Blodwyn waves him off. “And I don’t care what she wants. I’m not just going to wait here like the princess in the tower. I’ve done enough of that my whole life.”
I can tell by the look on her face that she won’t be persuaded otherwise. I let out a frustrated sigh, cursing her stubbornness.
“Fine,” I relent. “But keep close. I’ll see if I can summon Nox as well. As for the rest of you…hide near the courtyard. If there’s any chance of retreiving the crown, don’t hesitate.”
“Oh aye,” Roland huffs. “Suppose I’ll just stroll down there and hope that mother of yours doesn’t turn my guts into garters.”
He keeps grumbling, but I ignore him, watching the chaos below. In a strange way, it feels like I was always heading for this moment. No matter what I did, it would find me.
And I am tired of running.
—
The courtyard is in ruins.
Black tendrils of miasma curl up from the dozen or so holes in the flagstones.
Sections of the palace are completely demolished.
Mother stands among the debris, shadow creatures gathered around her.
I scan the area for Shade, but don’t find him.
By some miracle, though, Nox heeds my call.
The Nevenwolf materializes from the shadows and prowls alongside us, his hackles raised.
Mother arches an eyebrow at our approach.
“Daughter,” she says, her attention lingering on each of us in turn. “Are you here to fulfill your end of the prophecy?”
I glance at the crown on Mother’s head, the Bloodstones glimmering in the firelight.
“No,” I reply. “But I’d like to talk.”
“Talk?” she repeats, smirking. “And whose idea was that? The half-Wayward witch who keeps causing trouble? Or the mortal princess? Tell me, what exactly do you think is going to happen when all this is over? That she’ll welcome you to court? Give you a room in her palace like a pet witch?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Blodwyn insists.
Nox growls, as if in her defense.
Mother merely laughs. “Perhaps not now. But the pesky thing about mortals is that they die so very quickly. The next ruler will just reinstate the old laws.”
She’s right, that old voice warns.
“Maybe they will,” I admit. “But we can’t keep doing things the same way as before. Repeating the same mistakes. I have to trust—”
“Them?” Mother flings a frustrated gesture toward Blodwyn and Jacquetta. “Over your own mother? What more do I have to do to prove myself to you?”
“Prove?” I echo. “When have you ever tried to prove anything to me? You’re the one insisting that I prove myself to you. And I’m always found wanting.”
“Dramatic as ever,” Mother scoffs. “How many times have I cleaned up after you? Rescued you from your own poor judgment?”
Heat floods my face.
Mother steps closer, shadows trailing her like a cloak.
“I’ve done nothing but protect you since the day you were born. Even now. When you ran into that siren of a witch in the forest”—she jerks her chin at Jacquetta—“I sent the crows. When the Followers attacked the palace, I intervened. When the Heirs would have killed you, I stopped them.”
Is that really how she views those events?
“I nearly died!”
“But you didn’t,” she counters. “And you wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have let you. I came back here for you. Mastered an entirely new breed of magic for you. Delivered the princess into your hands to fulfill the prophecy so that you can be queen. Forever. And still, nothing I do is enough.”
“I never wanted it!” I shout. “Not any of it! All I wanted was for you to be my mother. To love me. For us to be happy.”
“You never could have been happy with a small life at Stonehaven,” she says. “You were nothing there. We were nothing.”
The words land like a slap. Is that how she felt?
“We were a family,” I say, pressing my thumb into Rhea’s mark. “That would have been enough for me. It was enough for Rhea.”
A pained look crosses Mother’s face. “Your sister…”
“Loved you. Us.” I hold out my hand, showing her the mark on my palm. “She gave this to me. She told me it meant we would always be together, no matter what happened.”
“It’s just a mark, Ayleth,” she says, but her voice is rough.
“It’s more than that. We should be honoring Rhea’s memory. You told me yourself that she thought things should be different. Do you really think this is what she meant?”
I indicate the wreckage of the courtyard.
For an instant, some of Mother’s armor falls away and I glimpse the witch I used to know. One whose laughter filled the halls of the Sanctum. Who would sneak me extra slices of pie after dinner or sit with me after a nightmare.
“Your sister died because of that girl”—she nods at Blodwyn—“and her family.”
Nox chuffs. I motion for him to stay back.
“Rhea died because of the king’s edict. Not Blodwyn,” I say. “And dozens of other witches have died because of me. You, as well. But it doesn’t have to be this way. We can stop all this. Forge a new path.”
“By surrendering my power?” she asks.
“What good is your power if you’re the only one who has it?” I press. “It makes you feel strong for a time, but then there’s only emptiness.”
An emptiness that plagued me for years. Nearly ruined me. Nothing was enough to fill it.
“I won’t give it up,” Mother says. “Not again.”
“You don’t have to,” I tell her. Risk a step closer.
“You’re not the only one who’s learned about power.
Magic and Malum are two halves of a whole.
We need to bring them back together. No more covens or Waywards or any distinctions at all.
The way the world was meant to be. The way Rhea would have wanted it. ”
As if in confirmation, that place on my palm tingles. I can almost imagine that Rhea is here, standing between us. Mother might, too. The hard set of her jaw softens. And she looks so tired. So lonely.
But then—
She lies.
A rasping voice slices between us and the next thing I know, Shade emerges from the darkness. He sends his shadows around Blodwyn, binding her tight enough that she cries out, struggling in their grasp.
“Stop!” I shout. “Let her go!”
Nox snarls, muscles coiled as he prepares to pounce. Jacquetta’s lips fly in the words of a spell. Gavin and his men race out from their hiding place. But Shade is faster. His shadows spring up, keeping them all back.
“Please, Shade,” I beg. “Killing Blodwyn won’t change anything.”
His crimson eyes hold mine, anger and resentment pulsing from his shadows. But beneath that is something deeper. Grief. Pain. Fear.
This realm belongs to Malum, he hisses. The true queen must rise.
“That isn’t real,” I insist, then turn my attention to Mother. “We are more than our power. All of us. Don’t let it consume you. It’s not too late.”
She’s quiet for a few moments. And I’m sure that I’ve lost her. Lost everything. But then—
“Let her go,” Mother says at last.
Relief floods my veins. But Shade doesn’t move. His shadows dance around him.
“Let her go,” Mother repeats, sharper.
I will not, he snaps. There can be no other way.
And then his shadowy hand plunges into my chest.
—
A pain like I’ve never known explodes inside me.
I can barely breathe as Shade’s icy fingers wrap around my heart and squeeze. My pulse slows, the dregs of my latent power dimming until I can hardly sense it at all. White-hot agony sears in my chest, like everything inside of me is freezing and burning at once.
“What are you doing?” Mother’s voice reaches me through the haze.
She is a threat, Shade replies. Unworthy.
Mother looks between us, wearing the same expression she did on the night Rhea died—horror mixed with disbelief.
“She’s my daughter,” she barks. “Release her at once.”
You do not command me, Shade reminds her. We serve you only as long as you serve us.
He draws out the last syllables, a line in the sand. Mother senses it, too. It’s me or the shadows. She holds my gaze, the years unspooling between us. Every argument. Every tender word. I latch onto that connection, begging her to come back. Choose me. But then—
“Very well,” she says, her jaw set.
The last sliver of my hope evaporates. Shade’s fingers tighten around my heart.
I can feel it ossifying, a piece of glass that only needs the slightest pressure to shatter.
I look to Jacquetta, a thousand unspoken words filling the space between us.
I wish I could speak them all. Tell her how much I love her.
How sorry I am for the wasted years. But the angles of her face start to blur as the world dims into—
Light erupts across my vision. I’m tossed backward and onto the flagstones. But the shock of my landing is nothing compared to the rush of relief as air floods back into my lungs. As my heart starts beating again, my skin stinging with warmth, as though I’ve just come back from the dead.
“Ayleth!” Jacquetta kneels beside me, Blodwyn with her.
I swallow, tasting copper. “What happened? What was that?”
“Your mother,” Blodwyn answers, evidently as confused as I am.
Mother? That doesn’t make any sense.
I struggle to sit upright, still dizzy. Across the courtyard, Mother and Shade are battling. Gavin, the Dwarves, the rest of the witches, and even Nox are scattered around them, engaged in their own fighting with the shadow creatures.
“She summoned a lightning strike,” Jacquetta explains. “Sent it on Shade. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it severed his hold on you.”
My mind spins, vainly trying to comprehend the situation. Why is Mother fighting Shade at all? Why had she chosen me over the shadows? Over her own power? As though she can sense my thoughts, Mother pauses. Faces me. But her expression remains unreadable.
“Ayleth!” Jacquetta says, gripping my shoulder. “The crown!”
She points. The Bloodstones glitter on the flagstones. Mother must have dropped the crown in the commotion. Ignoring my screaming muscles, I stagger to my feet and stumble toward it. My fingers clasp over the cold metal of the crown. But another pair of hands snatches it from the other side.
“Don’t!” Sindony shouts. “This isn’t what we agreed!”
“There’s no time for discussion! We have to destroy it.”
“And if it destroys us?”
“We have to try!”
I grit my teeth and yank as hard as I can, finally wresting the crown from Sindony’s grasp. My heart hammers in my chest, searching wildly for something to smash the stones or—the glow of the pyre catches my attention.
That place on my palm burns.
It must be undone, my sister’s words float back to me.
And I know at once what I must do: destroy the crown the same way it was forged—by throwing it into the flames.
“Don’t!” Sindony screams, still grappling for the crown.
Other witches barrel toward me. Shadow creatures as well. I ignore them all, sprinting across the courtyard and hurling the crown into the blaze.
Sparks erupt as the Bloodstones are swallowed by flame. I brace myself for a reaction, like on the night I broke the Veil. A crack as the world splits. It doesn’t come. But why not? If this was the way to restore the balance of power, then…
Comprehension oozes down my spine. I was wrong.
Behind me, Sindony lets out a bloodcurdling scream.