Page 98 of The Queen's Box

Then Jace narrowed her eyes. “If you’ve had this... ability... all this time, why haven’t you used it to slip into Serrin’s wing?”

Willow blinked. “What?”

“To see him. To know for yourself.”

The question hit Willow hard. She opened her mouth. Closed it. “Because...”

“You didn’t want to,” Jace said, comprehension dawning on her face. “You could have at any point, but you didn’t. And I’m not criticizing—I’m really not—but I think maybe you like the fantasy more than what’s real.”

“That’s not true. You don’t know that.”

Jace gave a small pitying smile. “Sorry, miss. I must have misunderstood.”

Willow flushed and turned away, ashamed. But it had been a long day, and her shame turned into anger. She drew herself upright, letting her shoulders settle back into the proud slope she’d learned from watching Ash walk into rooms.

“You’re right,” Willow said. “I did as I was told and followed the rules. Guilty as charged.” Her eyes narrowed. “Not you, though. You do whatever you want to do, and rules be damned.”

“Therulesweren’t written with my best interests in mind,” Jace said. “Why should I follow them?”

“Fine, but maybe instead of grilling me, you should explain yourself. I didn’t dream that conversation. You’re working with the rebels. You’re spying on the queen.”

Jace said nothing.

“Is it true?”

Jace sighed, the edge of her defiance fraying. “Yes. There’s a gathering. We don’t have a name, not really—just an idea. We’re not trying to take the whole palace down in flames. We’re just trying to get her out of the picture.”

Willow stared.

“She’s not what she claims,” Jace went on, quieter now. “You’ve seen it too, haven’t you? The way the shadows cling to her. The hunger in her eyes. The way everyone around her forgets themselves, forgets what matters. You feel it.”

“Do I?” Willow asked.

“Yes, miss. I think you do.” Jace stepped closer. “We don’t have a problem with you. Just her. She’s bad news, and you know it as well as I do.”

Willow bowed her head. She did. It was true, and she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t.

Jace softened, just slightly. “We can fix this, but I need to get that story out. The rebels need proof. Brody needs proof.”

Willow nodded. Severinewasdangerous. If Jace could give the rebels something to use against her, why not?

Jace bit her lower lip.

“Do what you need to do,” Willow said. “I won’t stop you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Relief washed over Jace, and she gave Willow a quick, tight hug. Then she hurried away, shooting Willow a final grin before ducking around the corner.

Willow headed back toward her room, but as her bare feet padded across the cool marble, doubt crept in. A single, rotting thread at first, then more, unraveling the certainty she’d just pretended to feel.

If Jace told this Brody what she’d seen—Severine crouched over a goat from the pond, red-mouthed and ravenous—what would come next? Questions, that’s what.

Who pulled that goat from the mire?

Willow.

Who’d delivered a possum the day before?

Willow.

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