The Queen's Price

FORTY-FIVE

Wilhelmina added a warming spell to the wool shawl she wrapped around herself, but it didn’t do anything to ease the chill inside her.

There had been fighting in the Territories throughout Kaeleer. There had been . . . war. Then the Dark Court had gone to Ebon Askavi, leaving everyone else behind. And then . . .

A terrible storm of power blasted through the Realms. A purge, the butler called it. A purge that had cleansed the Realms of Dorothea and Hekatah SaDiablo’s taint.

Even with all the shields protecting the Hall, that power had ripped through everyone and . . .

Wilhelmina opened her jewelry box—good jewelry with precious gemstones, yes, but still trinkets compared to the Jewels—and removed the ring Jaenelle had commissioned for her. A ring with protection spells. A ring that would alert all the males in the First Circle if she was attacked again.

She’d been told to wear it. Each Queen in the Dark Court’s coven, and Surreal as well, had been given one of these rings. But the existence of that ring said something she didn’t want to think about, so she’d tossed it in her jewelry box, because if she thought too much about what the existence of that ring meant . . .

A knock on the door.

“Come in.” Her voice trembled. Andrew had come to check on her after the purge had swept past the Hall, and servants had delivered meals, but no one had information about what had happened to people beyond the Hall and the village of Halaway.

The High Lord walked into the room. He looked terrible. Exhausted. In pain. And he was missing the little finger on his left hand.

He stared at her, at the Purple Dusk Jewel she wore, then seemed to gather himself to come closer.

“So,” he said too softly, “you were tainted enough to forfeit your Sapphire but you retained your Birthright Purple Dusk.”

She raised one hand to cover the Jewel. Would he take that from her, too, like both Jewels had been taken from Alexandra?

“The war is over,” he said. “The taint of Dorothea and Hekatah will no longer threaten Kaeleer—or the survivors in Terreille.”

“Survivors?”

“The purge swept through all the Realms. All the Blood who were tainted by Dorothea and Hekatah were destroyed, or forfeited some or all of their power.”

Her hands tightened on the shawl. “What about Philip and Leland? What about Alexandra?”

“I don’t know if they survived, Lady Benedict. Everyone who was killed by the purge . . . It was the full and final death. They are whispers in the Darkness now, beyond my reach.”

“But you could find out.”

The air turned cold. “My daughter sacrificed herself to save the rest of the Queens in Kaeleer. She sacrificed herself to save all the Warlord Princes who would have died fighting to save their people and the Realm. My daughter, my Queen, is gone, and I have a son who is breaking down under the weight of his grief. I don’t give a damn about the Chaillot Queen or anyone connected to her. But if you need to find out, I will personally escort you to the Gate closest to Chaillot and see that you get through.”

Wilhelmina shivered. “What if they’re gone? What if there’s no one left?”

“Then it will depend on the provisions Alexandra made for who would inherit the Angelline estate after Leland. That might be you.”

She didn’t know how to run an estate. “If they aren’t there, can I come back?”

The room got colder. The High Lord’s voice got softer. “No. If you choose to leave, you will not be welcomed back. That’s not part of the promise I made to my daughter where you’re concerned.” He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “If you choose to stay in Kaeleer, I am to provide you with a quarterly income that will be sufficient for running a modest aristo household. I will not enrich anything in Terreille, so if you leave, you also forfeit the income.”

“Was that Jaenelle’s decision?”

“No. But she isn’t here to override my decision.”

What if she went back to Chaillot and Philip, Leland, and Alexandra were dead? What if she went back and they were still alive? Would all the reasons she’d fled in the first place still be there?

“It would be best if you removed yourself from the Hall,” the High Lord said. “It’s a big place, but not big enough to hold you and the grief the rest of us are feeling. Jaenelle has a house in Maghre on the Isle of Scelt. I am willing to let you have the temporary use of it while you consider what you want to do. Or you can find lodgings in Dharo or Nharkhava. Glacia is also ruled by a short-lived race, but I would not recommend crossing paths with Glacia’s Queen right now.”

“And the other Queens will accept me in their Territories?”

“They will tolerate you.”

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to stand up for herself. But she had the feeling that she’d made a terrible mistake. An unforgivable mistake. “You’re angry with me because I couldn’t accept . . . But you don’t know! You hadn’t seen . . .”

“Everyone in the First Circle knew exactly who and what Witch was. We’d all seen the Self that lived beneath the human skin. She was loved because of who she was, Lady Benedict, not despite who she was.”

They all knew—and they didn’t see a monster.

Living myth. Dreams made flesh. And not all the dreamers were human.

“I . . . I’d like to go to Scelt,” Wilhelmina said.

“I’ll send word tonight so the house will be ready for you tomorrow. And I’ll have an account set up for you in Maghre with the first quarterly payment. A Coach and driver will be available anytime you’re ready to leave.” The High Lord walked out of the room and closed the door.

Wilhelmina stared out the window.

Had she been tainted by those compulsion spells Osvald had used on her? Or had she been tainted by Alexandra’s words—or because she hadn’t heeded the advice about making decisions before the compulsion spells wore off completely? Had she said what she’d said because she truly believed it or because Alexandra believed it and, somehow, it became her truth as well?

She pictured the creature who had walked out of the mist—and shuddered. Jaenelle had always been strange, but Wilhelmina had cared about this sister who knew things—and could do things—children shouldn’t know or do.

No. She loved the sister she’d held in her memory, but what she’d seen in that place of mist and stone . . . Witch was too strange and powerful, too feral in an animal way, for an ordinary person to accept. And yet . . .

Wilhelmina went back to the dresser, opened the jewelry box, and removed the ring she’d been given for protection. A ring that had been made after she’d seen . . .

I love you.

A last message. A last gift. She tried to picture Jaenelle as a human, but those sapphire eyes were now in a face that had a tiny spiral horn in the center of its forehead.

For the rest of her life, she would never remember her sister without seeing the creature that had lived beneath the human skin—a creature that was more than she could accept or love. And she understood that even if Jaenelle had lived through the war, Wilhelmina had lost her sister in ways no one else living at the Hall would ever lose anyone.