Chapter Sixty-Three Ayleth
Chapter Sixty-Three
Ayleth
Margaret’s army arrives a few days later. Between their numbers, our own forces, and the restored alliance with the witches, the Rycinthian war fizzles within a matter of days.
Tension in the realm itself, however, is another matter.
Much of Riven celebrates the dawn of a new age, its citizens eager for the ruler they call the Witch Queen and the power that promises to protect the realm for years to come.
But, as ever, there are pockets of dissent.
Within a week, we hear of Follower groups rearing their heads again, declaring Blodwyn’s power an abomination.
Warbeck and his allies are still slinking about court, no doubt hatching their own schemes.
But Blodwyn handles such situations with patience and grace, far better than I ever did.
With Margaret’s assistance, she charms the nobles and establishes strong alliances.
She orders food and aid be sent to all areas affected by Malum.
Adds Roland and other Dwarves to the council.
There’s even talk of representatives from the common people being invited to join their meetings.
Warbeck and many of the other nobles will hate that idea, just as Callen would have.
But I have little doubt that Blodwyn will tame them.
That, in time, they will all come to respect her—and Riven will be better for it.
But I’m still not sure of my own place in this reforged realm.
“Will the throne room be ready in time?” Joan asks, bringing me back into the present.
I’ve been keeping myself busy with planning Blodwyn’s coronation, an event that seems to grow larger and more elaborate every day. We’re in Joan’s study. Fitz is cowering under the desk as Nettle leans over the edge to swat at him.
“Should be,” Roland replies. “Have my crew working on it ’round the clock. And here—just got these sketches in.”
He unrolls a sheet of parchment, displaying a drawing of Blodwyn’s crown.
It’s a stunning piece with scrolling white-gold metalwork and a myriad of jewels.
Some are apple-shaped, representing the princess’s line.
But there are other elements as well. Special gems gifted by the Dwarves.
Runes for protection and strength engraved by the witches.
“It’s beautiful,” I comment, running my fingertips over the ink.
“Surprised to hear you say that,” Roland comments.
“Why?”
“New crown. New queen,” he says with a shrug. “Can’t imagine it’s easy for you.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say Roland was concerned. And he’s not wrong. At first, I did feel that old sting of jealousy at watching myself be replaced. But I’ve learned by now the cost of feeding such instincts.
“I’m happy for Blodwyn,” I say, earning a skeptical eyebrow from Roland. “Really. Besides, I never actually wanted my own crown.”
He scoffs. “Well, that’s a fine thing to figure out now. After all that mess.”
“Roland,” Joan scolds.
“He has a point,” I allow. “I did make a mess of things. There’s much that I regret.”
Not all of it, though. Shadows shimmer in the corners of the room.
“We’re here now,” Joan says kindly. “The rest is in the past.”
Roland just grunts. “And what are you going to do, Mistress Witch? Stay at court? Cozy up with the nobles?”
The question presses on a sore spot. I’d been hoping to discuss such plans with Jacquetta.
But I’ve seen very little of the other witch since the night of the battle.
She and Sindony and the rest of the former coven witches retreated to a nearby Sanctum in order to talk about what’s next for them.
Given my history with the witches, it was decided that I shouldn’t join.
Jacquetta promised that she would let me know when I’d be welcome.
But it’s been weeks and I haven’t heard from her at all.
With each day that passes, I’m starting to wonder if I ever will.
“I’m not sure,” I admit.
“Well…” Roland scrubs the back of his neck. “You can come around mine, if you like.”
I blink. “Are you inviting me to your house?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” he replies. “Tilda and I will be busy, what with my council placement and all the work at the Mines. You can stay there. Loads of chores to do—seeing as you’re the one who wrecked it.”
Leave it to Roland to disguise a good deed with hard labor.
“But don’t even think about bringing that cat of yours,” he adds.
“Cat?” I echo, crossing my arms. “That’s the first time you haven’t called her a beast. I think she must be growing on you.”
Nettle trills and swishes her tail, evidently agreeing.
Roland just grumbles and rolls up the parchment.
“Aye, well. Make up your mind and let me know. Don’t keep me waiting.”
With that, he heads to the wall, summons a door, and disappears into the tunnels.
“I don’t know why he pretends to be so heartless,” Joan comments. “Will you take him up on his offer? Perhaps it will be good for you and Jacquetta to get away.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say, fussing with the papers. “I haven’t spoken to her.”
“Still?” Joan shakes her head. “You two, honestly.”
Heat climbs up my neck. “She said she would send for me and she hasn’t. I’m trying to be respectful. Give her space. And maybe…”
“What?”
“Maybe I was wrong,” I admit, the confession barbed as it tumbles out of me. “About her feelings. About us. Perhaps too much has happened and there’s no way back.”
The fire crackles in the silence. Joan squeezes my hand.
“Maybe you don’t need a way back,” she says. “But a way forward.”
“I’m not so sure that exists, either,” I grumble.
A knock at the door interrupts us. Anora halts as soon as she steps into the chamber.
“Sorry,” she says. “Your—”
She starts to curtsy, but then evidently remembers that I’m not the queen anymore and the gesture falters awkwardly midway through. It’s a common occurrence around me these days.
“Just call me Ayleth,” I tell her.
She presses her lips together and I hazard a guess that she will never do that.
“Dinner is ready,” she says to Joan instead. “Are you coming?”
“I’ll be right there,” Joan answers.
Anora nods, then bobs another clumsy half curtsy and hurries out the door.
“When did she get back?” I ask.
“A few days ago,” Joan replies, stacking her papers. “We’re working on things. Talking. Like rational people do.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“When have I ever been accused of being rational?” I point out. Nettle meows, as if to agree. “For what it’s worth, I hope things work out between you this time.”
“Thank you,” Joan says, squeezing my hand again. “And remember what I said: Love is the strongest magic there is. It may not always seem that way, but you and Jacquetta have more of it than any two people I know.”
—
A few nights later, I walk along the garden paths.
It’s a frequent activity for me these days, especially in the evenings.
The Great Hall has been repaired since the destruction at the Remembrance Ball, but—like Anora—most of the courtiers are painfully awkward around me.
That, or they’re reveling in my fall like vultures. It’s often easier to keep to myself.
A raven calls overhead and I glance up, hoping that it might finally be Jacquetta.
But the bird just sails on. For the first time since the mirror shattered, I miss the imprisoned king.
Or at least the power he afforded me. I’d love nothing more than to peer into the Sanctum’s walls.
Learn what Jacquetta and the others are discussing. If it’s about me.
But those abilities are beyond me now. So much of my power has changed in the last weeks.
I still see Nox, his crimson eye gleaming out at me from the shadows.
Still feel Malum rumbling behind my sternum, much stronger now than it was when Shade abandoned me.
Even the shadows have returned, brushing shyly against my body or playing around my ankles as I walk.
We’re getting to know one another again, I think.
And I suspect that most of my abilities will return in time.
But I doubt it will ever be like it was.
Part of me mourns the sheer, raw power that Malum used to provide me.
But I was just using it to fill a void within myself.
And whether I realized it or not, the power I craved so much was eating away at me—the same way the Veil did to the creatures of Malum.
Sooner or later, I would have wound up exactly like Shade, fueled solely by hatred and greed.
Unable to recognize love when it was staring me in the face.
I haven’t encountered my former Huntsman since the night we took the palace.
He, like Mother, couldn’t remain in a world where magic and Malum are twined together.
Even so, I sense that Shade is still out there, hovering in the shadows.
Waiting for someone to help him regain a foothold in our world.
A crow calls in the distance and I swear I can see the glimmer of crimson eyes in the darkness.
Fairest of them all.
A muttered curse carries through the night.
I round a corner and find that the gate to the late Queen Sybil’s garden is open. Moonlight shines down on the barren bushes and stone sculptures. And there, in the far corner, I spot Blodwyn. Her hands are curled into fists and she’s evidently extremely annoyed by one of the withered rosebushes.
“Come on,” she seethes, kicking dirt in its direction. “Why can’t you—”
She whirls at the sound of my approach.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to interrupt…whatever this is.”
“You’re not,” she says, gesturing helplessly to one of the plants. “I was just…”
“Trying to make it grow?”
A faint flush creeps up her face. “It sounds ridiculous.”
“Not at all,” I reply. “In fact, I used to know a witch who had a talent for such spells.”
A memory resurfaces of Eden charming the roses in Stonehaven’s kitchen window. I think the two of them would have been friends, if circumstances were different.
“Not me, apparently,” Blodwyn says, sullen. “How could I have brought Aunt Margaret back to life, but I can’t even rouse a few shrubs?”
A smile twitches at my lips. She reminds me so much of myself at her age. Frustrated at a power I didn’t understand.
“Be patient,” I tell her, motioning for her to join me as I take a seat on a bench. “I imagine there’s much for you to learn about your new abilities. It was the same for me after I broke the Veil. And it didn’t help that I spent most of my life fearing Malum.”
“That’s what I mean,” Blodwyn says with a sigh. “Sometimes, it feels like this huge well of power, so vast that I’m sure I’ll drown in it. What’s to stop me from turning into…”
“Me?” I ask.
She slides me a sideways look. “I didn’t intend to sound cruel.”
“I don’t blame you for worrying, especially after everything you’ve been through. And you’re right. There’s nothing to stop you from falling into that well. Nothing but this.”
I press a hand to my own heart. Far too many times, I’ve failed to trust it.
“But what if I’m—” she starts.
“That fear,” I say, “will poison you. Remember what happened with your aunt. You didn’t force anything. Didn’t think too hard. You just let it happen. Trusted yourself. That’s all you have to do.”
Blodwyn weighs this, frowning. But then she turns to the nearest rosebush and touches the brittle branches. The air shimmers and then, to my amazement, green leaves unfurl from the stems, swiftly followed by buds that burst into bloom, revealing red, velvet-like petals.
The princess grins. “It worked.”
“See?” I say, giving her a gentle nudge. “How did you do it?”
She traces the rose petals with her fingertip. “I thought of the memories I shared here with Mother.”
Love is the most powerful magic I know. Joan’s words resurface.
She’s always been far wiser than me.
Gravel crunches near the gate. A young man rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots us. I blink in surprise. It’s the Warbeck boy.
“Oh,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I’ll just—”
He disappears again.
“We’re only talking,” Blodwyn supplies before I can ask.
“If you say so.” I arch an eyebrow. “But I certainly wouldn’t blame you if there was more. After all, he did save your life—twice. And then there was that display in the throne room. Very gallant.”
She picks at her gown. “No one has ever stood up for me like that before.”
“Then what’s holding you back?”
“The council, for one,” she says, irritated. “They keep bringing up my marriage. It’s intolerable. I’m sixteen. I can’t possibly be ready for such a commitment.”
I roll my eyes. “Trust me, there were times I was tempted to bring Nox to those meetings.”
Blodwyn snorts in what I take to be agreement.
“It’s not just that, though,” she continues. “Gavin has been kind to me, and I do care for him. But I remember what happened with Mother and Papa. With every couple at court, it seems. What if it’s the same for us? If we wind up hating each other?”
“Love is always a risk,” I agree. “But I have to say, Gavin strikes me as being vastly different from your father. And from most at court.”
“Maybe. But I’m just not sure it’s enough. How did you know…with Jacquetta?”
A startled laugh tumbles out of me. “Oh, I don’t think you want to follow our example. We’ve made quite a mess of things over the years.”
“So you don’t think it was worth it?”
A thorny question. One I certainly can’t answer right now.
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “But I do know this: Trust yourself. And your instincts. And if the council gives you any trouble, let me know and I really will send Nox to deal with them.”
That tempts a smile from her. Across the garden, the Warbeck boy pokes his head around the gate again, then just as swiftly vanishes.
“I should you leave you to it,” I say, taking the hint.
I start to rise, but Blodwyn catches my wrist.
“Wait.” She turns my palm up and studies the mark below my left ring finger. “Do you think these marks connect us? Like with your sister?”
“Perhaps. Is that…something that concerns you?”
Blodwyn pauses.
“No,” she says. “In fact, I’m glad. Grateful that you came into my life. The past few years have been difficult, but I needed you more than I realized.”
My throat tightens. I do not deserve her forgiveness. Her openness. And I make a vow that I will never take it for granted again.
“I needed you just as much,” I tell her. I take her hand and press our marks together. “And we don’t need lines to connect us. We’re sisters now. Always.”
Blodwyn’s eyes shine. She nods.
Around us, the garden bursts into bloom.