Page 195 of Cherish

He reaches for it, but a shadow snatches it away before he can touch it and spirits it across the room to the Shadow Queen.

The shadow drops it at her feet, and for several moments she stares at the small gold necklace as if it’s a shadow creature she’s terrified will poisonher. Eventually, though, she bends down to retrieve it, and the second her fingers close around the small pendant, her entire face—her entire being—crumbles.

She simply caves in on herself, shoulders slumping, body curving forward, head dropping to her hands as shudders rack her body.

My stomach roils at the sight of her agony, so raw and undiluted. If she was anyone else, I would go to her and try to do…something. Anything to take away the pain that has overtaken her entire aura.

But she isn’t someone else. She’s the Shadow Queen, and she holds Mekhi’s fate in her hands. Because if she chooses not to help him…if she chooses not to help him, I’m completely out of moves.

“I gave this to Lorelei when she was five years old,” she whispers into the cavernous silence of the room. “I told her to wear it always, to never take it off, so that she could be protected forever. She was wearing it the day this cursed place came into being, and I’ve—” Her voice breaks. “I’ve imagined her wearing it ever since. My magic, my love, keeping watch over her for a thousand years when I could not.”

Her eyes narrow, turning a violent, vicious violet as she creeps closer to Mekhi. “How dare you take this from her?”

“I didn’t,” Mekhi chokes out, face livid with pain. “Lorelei gave it to me before I came here—”

“She would never,” she snarls, then breaks off with an outraged cry, rounding on me. “Not unless you’ve convinced her that her mother doesn’t love her anymore!”

“No!” I shout, holding a hand in front of me. “I wouldnever.”

But the queen is too enraged to believe me, and with a sweep of her hand, she sends the chandelier above us crashing to the ground. Glittering shards of purple glass shatter across the floor and the throne, but fortunately no one is hurt.

“Fate wouldn’t be so cruel, to take my daughter from me twice.”

“Maybe fate isn’t trying to be cruel,” I suggest, seeing my opportunity and seizing it because I don’t think there will be a better time.

“Don’t say it,” she hisses at me.

Old Grace would have heeded that warning. She would have turned tail and run. But I haven’t come this far, I haven’t risked my friends’ and my mate’s lives, to lose Mekhi in the end anyway.

“Maybe your daughter was showing someone mercy for something her mother did,” I say, disregarding her warning. “Maybe if you show—”

“I have no mercy in me,” she interrupts. “Not anymore. Not since that woman sentenced me here. She built this prison, took my child from me, imprisoned my people for a thousand years. And for what? Because of one mistake?

“I am a mother, too. Am I not allowed to love my children beyond all reason, too? But did anyone care about me? Did anyone try to end my suffering? My children’s suffering? Instead of offering mercy or help, I was sentenced to this prison made of vengeance and tears and pain. And my people, my innocent and blameless people, were sentenced right along with me. The walls going down and separating me from one of my childrenforever.” Her voice cracks, tears streaming down her cheeks. “So why should I show any mercy? Why should I forgive a thousand years of suffering when sheneverhas?”

Her pain is palpable, the rage and vindictiveness of earlier falling away in the face of her overwhelming sorrow. As she stands here in this room filled with shards of broken glass and memories unrealized, I no longer see the villain. The woman whose machinations brought about my own people’s poisoning and imprisonment and everything that came after—everything that brought me here.

Instead, I see a woman who, in some ways, is as much a victim as the rest of us.

Did she make a bad choice? Yes. She made several bad choices.

Did she intend for things to go as wrong as they have? For the first time, I can’t help but wonder if the answer to that question isno.

Maybe there is more to this story than I know. More than Jikan’s interminable tale could tell us. And if that’s the case, maybe there is still a way to reach her, a chance to save Mekhi. And, maybe, to help her, though I don’t know how I could.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and I mean it.

Her eyes flash to mine. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m sorry. I’m sorry that the Crone lied to you. I’m sorry that she tricked you. I’m sorry that Jikan—”

“The Crone?” She looks incredulous. “You think I’m here because oftheCrone? You’re right. She lied to me, but she didn’t destroy my life. No, you foolish, foolish child. I am here because the Bloodletter put me here.”

109

The Power

of Grace

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