Page 73

21

C ora could only guess how long it had been since the North Tower Library last felt the touch of sunlight. Now that the windows had been freed from the heavy tapestries that had covered them, the room looked half as sinister as before. She wiped her hands on the apron covering her simple wool day dress and gave the room an approving nod. She could work with half as sinister.

Warm afternoon air wafted through each open window, bringing with it the smell of the not-too-distant mountains mingling with the hawthorn, laurel, and rosemary burning in the hearth. The herb smoke and sunlight, along with the droplets of spring water and rows of salt lining each sill, would ensure any dark energies that managed to escape the room through the open windows would be purified.

Earth, fire, water, air.

That was all a witch needed to cleanse an item of energetic impurities. Her efforts were working. Already she could feel the room growing lighter, brighter, clearer. A safer space to navigate. But that was just the room itself. As for the objects in the library…well, that would take far longer. She predicted weeks of emotionally draining work lay ahead of her. Luckily, it was work she was well suited to.

She’d spent the last day and a half gathering supplies—herbs, plants, spring water, and stones—to accompany the items she’d already taken from the kitchen. This morning, she’d spent a few hours taking energetic inventory of the room, wandering from wall to wall with her palms extended, sensing beats of pressure, darkness, enchantments. The strongest pulse had come from the book that had killed Lurel. It remained closed as Cora had left it, but one of the first things she’d done this morning was carefully slice the leather strap that attached the metal clasp to the cover and toss it in the fire. The hidden needle was the only trap she could sense on the book, and she wasn’t willing to risk anyone else being pricked. She couldn’t guarantee that the blood weaving Morkai had armed the book with could only be forged once.

She glanced at the book now, sensed it thrumming with the murky darkness contained between its covers. With her shields only partially up—for protection only—she could sense fluctuations in the energies around her. She had every intention of purifying and destroying the book, but she knew it would be a challenge. Something with that much dark energy would fight her. While the Forest People had taught her and all the other witches and Faeryn descendants how to clear energies, she’d only had experience with small items. A patch of earth here and there. Her tools and weapons. Never had she been responsible for an undertaking like this, and it would doubtless be a draining endeavor. Until she’d warmed up to the process and assessed her energetic stamina, the book would remain as it was.

Her gaze slid to the amber crystal resting beside the book. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d forgotten it by now, but today, when she’d found it in her apron pocket, she’d refused to remove her hand from it until she’d entered the room. Then she’d set it on the table, out in the open where she wouldn’t be able to forget its existence, regardless of the enchantment Morkai had placed on it. She squinted at it, then at the two copper basins on the floor before the fireplace. One held salt while the other would soon be filled with water. She could try the crystal first…

A rushing sound reached her ears, of wings beating wind. She caught sight of a dark silhouette from the corner of her eye and nearly jumped out of her skin as a large bird landed in one of the open windows, opposite the row of salt lining the ledge. There it stood, head cocked to the side. Backlit as it was by the bright sun, she couldn’t clearly make out its distinguishing features. She blinked a few times and took a few steps closer, trying to get a better glimpse.

Its size, its form, the emotional energy she was just beginning to connect with, slowly took shape as something familiar…

Could it be?

“Berol—”

“I’ve brought another jug of spring water, Highness.” The disgruntled voice of Cora’s new lady’s maid sent the bird flying from the sill and out of sight.

Cora whirled toward the doorway just as Sera began to duck beneath the dangling bundles of rosemary hanging from the doorframe. All thoughts of the bird fled her mind. “Do not take a step inside this room,” Cora barked, her voice harsher than she’d intended.

Sera pulled up short, muttering under her breath. “Like I even want to be here at all.”

Ignoring the girl’s retort, Cora met her at the doorway. With a poorly hidden scowl, Sera handed her the jug of spring water beneath the hanging rosemary.

“What is this anyway?” Sera asked, casting a wary glance first at the rosemary, then at the row of salt sprinkled in a distinct line over the threshold. The girl seemed more annoyed than curious, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Then again, Cora had never seen Sera looking anything other than displeased. She was starting to wonder if that was simply due to her face. She had a small mouth, an upturned button nose, and a pointed chin a little too sharp for her rounded cheeks. There’d be something cherubic about her looks, were she not always looking at Cora like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Cora noticed movement farther down the stairwell where one of her guards—or Kevan’s spies, more like—awaited. He was around her brother’s age, perhaps nine-and-twenty, but his shrewd expression made him seem much older. Another sentry stood at the base of the stairwell, but the man upstairs was tasked with keeping an eye on her at all times. His gaze narrowed on the bundled herbs as if he too sought an answer to Sera’s question.

Cora relayed her lie with practiced ease. “Since I’ve been ordered to keep the door to this room open while I work, I’ve had to take precautions to ensure no one but me enters. It is for everyone’s safety that I be the only one allowed in here. Should I see smeared granules of salt across the floor or hair tangled in the rosemary, I’ll know someone has been inside.”

Sera nodded absently, accepting Cora’s fabricated tale while she twirled a strand of straight brown hair around her finger. The guard seemed to accept her story too and averted his gaze from the doorway.

Cora turned away, smiling to herself with satisfaction that quiet magic could so easily be masked with logic. The true purpose of the salt and rosemary was to keep the energies contained to the room, utilizing the magical properties of the herbs. They acted as a ward of sorts, preventing the dark energies from fleeing down the stairwell and into the rest of the castle. If the energies wanted free, they’d have to depart through the windows where they could be purified upon crossing the sill.

She crouched on the floor before the water basin and reverently poured the spring water from the jug. A tingle of euphoria moved through her. Mother Goddess, this felt good. Not so much being surrounded by Morkai’s dark items, but embodying her magical side, even if only in secret. To think she used to scoff at quiet magic, used to undermine its soft and unassuming effects in favor of weapons. Now she was grateful to be surrounded by the invisible Arts. It made her feel powerful. Useful. A witch hiding in plain sight. A princess with a purpose.

“You don’t need me anymore, do you?” Sera asked from the other side of the threshold. Then, as an afterthought, tacked on, “Your Highness.”

Cora rolled her eyes. Ever since Lord Kevan had hauled Sera into her room and deemed her Cora’s new lady’s maid, the girl had made no secret that she’d rather be with her beloved queen. It served Cora well, though, for it made Sera easy to get rid of. And she’d certainly need her gone before she could get started. It was already bad enough having a guard hovering at the top of the stairs.

“You may go,” she said over her shoulder. As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt Sera’s emotions lift into bubbly excitement.

“Do you need me to return at all today? Perhaps not until this evening when I ready you for bed? In the meantime, I really should check on Her Majesty. It must be dreadful managing with only two of her ladies. She really needs me, you know. Especially because of the baby.” The last part came out as a loud whisper.

Cora shifted slightly toward the door. “The queen is with child?” This was certainly the first time Cora had heard of the news.

Sera continued to wind a strand of hair around her finger. Taking on the telltale tone of someone relaying a juicy bit of gossip, she said, “According to Queen Helena, yes. The morning we left Verlot, she told us she was absolutely certain her daughter had conceived on her wedding night and ordered us to forbid the queen even a single glass of wine while she was away. I daresay she must be right, for of course Her Majesty would conceive easily. She is queen, after all, and knows her duty is to bring Menah’s next heir into the world. Her son will be heir to two kingdoms because when her father dies, she’ll inherit Selay too. Can you imagine how great a kingdom she’ll have when Selay and Menah merge as one?” She lowered her voice to a whisper again. “Much larger than your own kingdom, Highness.”

Cora stared blankly at the girl. That was the most Sera had ever spoken to her. Apparently, if the topic was Mareleau, she’d be impossible to stop. Well, that was a subject Cora could do without.

Before Cora could dismiss her once more, Sera spoke again, eyes going suddenly wide.

“Is it really possible to know if one’s pregnant immediately after one’s wedding night?” Trepidation and a hint of panic wafted from the girl. “Or one’s… you know …night?”

The guard let out a cough to mask what had started as a bark of laughter.

Sera stiffened, cheeks turning pink as if she’d forgotten the man’s presence.

Cora debated the best answer she could give—one that wouldn’t undermine whatever Queen Helena had said while also convincing Sera to leave her alone already—when a clairsentient feeling struck her, telling her she was on the verge of a truth she wasn’t supposed to know. She shouldn’t care; this situation had nothing to do with her. But the niggling feeling had her stringing facts together in her mind: Queen Helena’s certainty that her daughter had conceived, Mareleau’s sudden marriage and surprising change of groom, her aggressive protectiveness over Larylis…

Mother Goddess, Mareleau and Larylis had had an affair .

It was the only explanation that made sense. Why else would Teryn not have married her? Why else would Larylis be King of Menah in Teryn’s stead? There was no way Teryn would have chosen such a thing were it not a last resort.

The thought tied her heart and stomach in knots.

“Never mind,” Sera said with a huff, clearly frustrated by Cora’s lack of answer. “I was only asking for a friend. I trust Queen Helena’s judgment.” Then, without offering any kind of formal farewell, she turned on her heel and rushed down the stairs.

Cora roused herself from thoughts of Mareleau, Larylis, and Teryn.

And Teryn.

Teryn.

She shook her head, forcing him from her mind at last. She had a vital task to perform, one that required a clear head and emotional fortitude. Rising from the floor, she strode to the table, retrieved the amber crystal, and brought it back to the water basin. With a deep breath, she dropped it beneath the surface and gave herself over to the miracles of quiet magic.

Until quiet magic turned to blood.