Page 44 of A Cage of Crystal

She studied her ladies through slitted lids. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to tell them the truth about her feelings. The last thing she wanted were rumors spreading that the queen had only married Larylis because he’d been named king. She needed the world to know of her love. Of her victory.

“Yes,” Mareleau said, lifting her chin, “I’ve only ever loved Larylis. I’ve never had an ounce of feelings for anyone but him. I would have given up my royal right for him, would have burned down the world for him. And now he’s mine and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Or I will be, once I leave here and go back home to Dermaine Palace.”

Ann brought a hand to her lips while Breah blinked a sheen of tears from her eyes.

Mareleau threw her hands in the air. “Now what?”

Ann lowered her hand to reveal that she was grinning like an idiot while Breah bounced on the balls of her feet. “It’s just,” Breah said, “we’ve never heard you speak like that before. You’ve never talked about love or romance, or feelings at all. It’s so good to know you’re happy.”

“I am,” Mareleau said, but the words formed a sudden lump in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes, and a sob was building in her chest, too heavy to suppress.

Breah’s lips curled into a sappy smile, and she took a step forward to reach for her hand.

Mareleau whirled back toward the window before the girl’s fingers could make contact with hers. Blinking furiously to clear her eyes, she managed to say, “Find me chocolate. Both of you.”

“I already have, Majesty,” came Ann’s voice. “The cook said she didn’t have any.”

“Ask again,” Mareleau ground out between her teeth. “And if she still doesn’t have any, tell her to order some. While you’re at it, bring me a slice of cake.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” both girls said in unison. A swish of skirts followed, then the close of her chamber door. Only then did Mareleau release a heavy sigh. Only then did she let a tear slip over her cheek.

21

Cora 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.”

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