Chapter 16

A nyka found Wyett waiting for her in the royal apartment when she returned from dinner with Hawke, Nazyr, and Ishmyel. Beatryce and her new friend were off to a recital. Anyka was eager to know what her valet had discovered in the Summerton wizard's quarters. "Well?"

Wyett frowned. "Nothing, my lady. Not a blessed thing." He let out a frustrated sigh that was closer to a snarl. "I believe much of the space was cloaked in magic. The book could have been right in front of me, and I wouldn't have known."

"I should have sent Nazyr with you." She looked at her Minister of Magic. She'd wanted to. She should have insisted.

Nazyr pursed his lips. "I would have gone, my lady."

"I don't think it matters," Wyett said. "I doubt you would have fared much better. I almost couldn't find my way out."

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head, hands held out wide in frustration. "It was as if every time I turned, the room changed. All I can tell you is I felt the presence of heavy magic. Darkstone must be more powerful than we imagined."

Finding out Sparrow had gone to Hythe had angered Anyka. Not retrieving Lady Cynzia's grimoire fanned the hot coals of anger burning in Anyka's belly. She grabbed a vase off the sitting room's sideboard and threw it against the wall opposite Galwyn's perch.

Galwyn screeched as the ceramic shattered, sending pieces flying and causing the men in the room, save Hawke and Trog, to flinch.

She glared at all of them. "I have had enough . I want the book back and I want it back immediately."

Nazyr opened his mouth to speak, but she held her hand up. "Don't say a word unless you have a way to make that happen."

He closed his mouth.

Just as she'd thought. "I shouldn't have to be the only one working toward empowering Malveaux. You are all supposed to be helping me with that. Supporting me. And yet, here I am, doing everything by myself."

None of them said a thing.

"I am going to bathe. When I return, I want to know what you've come up with." She held out her arm. "Galwyn. Come."

The bird flew to her, then she stalked out of the room and toward her personal chambers. Her entire body thrummed with anger. She no longer cared if Greybone found Lady Cynzia or not. It would be helpful to have the woman's guidance, but Anyka had reached the point where she was ready to open the grimoire and take her chances.

As angry as she was, she felt like she could absolutely control the magic therein. And if it required something of her, if it meant handing over a piece of herself, so be it. How much of herself had she already given to the crown?

"Jenny. Now ."

Her lady's maid scurried into the room. "Yes, my lady?"

"Twist my hair up and get this gown off me. I wish to bathe."

"Yes, my lady." Jenny worked quickly, her nimble fingers flying.

Anyka's hair was secured high on top of her head with a trio of picks. She appreciated that at least one of the citizens in her employ did as she was asked. Anyka stepped out of the gown and her underthings, shifting Galwyn to her other arm as necessary, then descended the steps into the bathing pool. She waved her hand at Jenny. "You're dismissed."

Jenny gathered the discarded clothing and left.

"Wait," Anyka called, sinking deep into the steaming water.

Jenny reappeared. "My lady?"

"Bring me a bottle of blackberry brandy. From the Willow Hall supply." The case Wyett had filched was going back to Castle Hayze.

"Yes, my lady." She left again, returning shortly with the bottle and a glass. She set both on the edge of the bath, then waited.

"That is all."

With a nod, the maid took her leave.

Anyka set Galwyn on one of the stone benches that circled the pool, then opened the brandy. "My pet, you are my only comfort. I am surrounded by men who tell me what I want to hear but do nothing to help me."

She tipped the bottle to the glass, filling it halfway. "Why am I plagued with these incompetent fools?"

Galwyn cocked his head, letting out a soft squawk.

She sipped the brandy, then nodded. "You're right. Hawke has potential, but I fear he will bring us to war before I am ready. Without the book, what hope do we have? I need that magic. I need power to overtake Summerton."

She slumped down into the water until just her neck and head remained above the surface. "I feel…like a failure. This is not what my parents wanted for me. I know that. My mother sacrificed a part of herself so that I might rule both kingdoms, but the Summerton king had his revenge. That was not my mother's fault."

She lifted the glass to Galwyn. "I should avenge my parents. It's my right. It's what they would have wanted, don't you think?"

He hopped to the other side of the bench, following her as she moved slowly through the water. She drained the glass and went back for more, refilling it. She took a seat on the steps, staying well under the water, and stared into the steam, seeking answers in the mist. Wishing they would just appear to her.

Did she really have enough power to control the book? Her mother had been very powerful. Even so, she'd lost bits of herself to the darkness. Anyka remembered how weak her mother would get after a particularly difficult spell.

How new lines etched into her skin. The strands of white that streaked her beautiful dark hair. How thin she'd become from being unable to eat, weak with the effort of her magical endeavors. How madness danced in her eyes, how haunted her dreams became. Each time after an attempt to protect Malveaux or bring back the sun or keep the throne safe.

And yet, despite all her efforts, she'd succumbed to poison. Her magic hadn't prevented that, had it?

Anyka tipped the brandy back, savoring the berry-sweet burn as it slid down her throat. What hope was there that she might achieve more than her mother? She had skills, that wasn't in question. She drew her finger through the air, creating swirls in the steam that obeyed her direction.

Were her skills enough to use the book as she wanted? Or would the book and the black magic within end up owning her?

She huffed out a breath. Maybe she didn't care. Maybe going mad with power was better than this struggling existence. No one was really afraid of her. Not enough, anyway. Those men out there, their eyes had held some fear, but not the real dread she desired.

Somehow, the brandy was gone again. She set the empty glass on the bath's edge and slipped down into the water until her elbows on the step behind her were the only things supporting her weight. She let the rest of her body float.

She was so tired of…everything. Of pretending any of this trip was a good idea. Yes, Bea was having a wonderful time and for that, Anyka was grateful, but she also felt like her daughter was losing sight of what truly mattered.

This life at Willow Hall was not reality. It would never be replicated when they returned home. Even if the curse keeping Malveaux in gloom was lifted, this life of art and music and constant companionship would never happen for Beatryce.

She was a princess. The princess. Next in line for the throne. She could not be mixing with citizens as though they were equals, because they weren't.

Once again, the burden of responsibility weighed on Anyka. She kicked her legs gently through the water. The best thing she could do for Beatryce was get her married.

Anyka tipped her head back. The troll delegation would be here in a week or so. She didn't want to deal with them, but it was her own doing. She'd told them to come here, and the meeting was important. She had to ascertain that their alliance remained strong.

Especially if Malveaux and Summerton were about to go to war, something that felt more like an unavoidable outcome with every passing moment.

Anyka's lip curled. How she longed to rule both kingdoms. Even more so now that she'd seen Summerton's royal vault. Those riches would all be hers.

But riches were the least of her worries.

She sat up, putting her feet back on the lower step and sending ripples across the water. If war was inevitable, what did it matter what she did next?

She could just eliminate Sparrow at the most convenient opportunity and that would be that. Summerton, regardless of whether the boy prince was on the throne or not, would descend into chaos.

Her eyes narrowed in thought. If she were truly going to avenge her parents, she ought to take out the entire lot of them. The queen, her son, and her aunt. Anyka laughed softly and looked at Galwyn. He was cleaning his feathers, taking advantage of the damp air to make them shine. "What would they do if the entire royal family were gone? Hmm? They'd be back to their empty throne and their aimless ways, wouldn't they?"

He cocked his head, his gleaming black eyes studying her.

She sighed. "I know. Without Merediem in my hand, they will never see me as the rightful ruler. They will fight me at every turn." She slapped the water's surface, sending droplets flying.

Galwyn jumped back, fluttering his wings.

She held her hand out to him. "I'm sorry, my darling. Come here."

He hopped over so that she could pet his head. She stroked his satiny feathers until his eyes closed.

She shifted to lay on her belly and face him. "Maybe I don't care if they fight me. Maybe I'll make examples of the worst of them, then see how much they want to fight with their neighbors' heads piked on the castle wall. I don't need them to like me, only to fear and obey me. It's a shame they murdered my mother. If only I could speak to her. Get her guidance."

She sniffed, maudlin because of the brandy, which she knew, but wasn't upset about. She was sad and miserable and angry. Why shouldn't she feel those things? She missed her parents, who'd been taken from her far too soon. She'd been thrust into the role of ruler years before it should have happened.

She had every right to feel however she wanted to feel. And as queen, every right to act however she wanted to act.

All that aside, there were times, like now, when what she wanted most was her mother. She leaned in, kissed Galwyn's head, then pushed to her feet. Water dripped off her in streams and the sudden shift from perpendicular to vertical gave her a few moments of dizziness. She grabbed the nearest bench and sat until it passed.

Then she dried off, pulled on her robe, and called to Galwyn. With him on her shoulder, she strode out to the sitting room. The men were all there, sitting close together, heads bowed toward each other in earnest conversation.

Good. They'd better have come up with something. In the meantime, she had ideas of her own. "Nazyr."

He stood. "Yes, my queen?"

"You once told me, years ago, that you could teach me to summon the dead."

He nodded. "Yes. It's a complicated spell, but I have no doubt you'd be able to master it in a very—"

"How long will it take you to prepare whatever's necessary?"

"For me to teach you?"

"No. For you to perform the spell."

He took a long breath. "An hour. Maybe less?"

"Do it." She shifted her gaze to Hawke. "I'm going to change and then you're going to take me out on the lake as promised."

Nodding, he got up. "I would be honored."

She went back to Nazyr. "When we return, you will guide us both through the spell."

"Of course, your highness."

Ishmyel frowned. "My lady niece, I thought you believed Lady Cynzia to be alive?"

"I do. It's not her I plan on summoning."

"Then who, if I may ask?"

She smiled at Galwyn. "My mother."