Page 106 of The Witch Queen

“Let’s get Nemesia moved to new rooms, and then she can begin translating,” Thorne says excitedly to me, threading his fingers through mine. “You can speak with her about what she may have learned, and we’ll figure out together what we believe.” I squeeze his hand in appreciation of his support, so unused to having someone to rely on.

As we’re walking out the door, Admon calls out to us. “I’m happy that the two of you have both accepted the mating bond.” My brows furrow.

“How did you know?” We hadn’t yet told anyone other than Fionn and Silene.

“I can just tell from seeing the two of you together. You’re glowing,” he responds with a smile.

The next day, Nemesia is set up in rooms just above the palace cells, the iron from below still making any fae on that level uncomfortable and dampening their power. Thorne and I agreed he’d come with me to speak with her, but that he’d stand back and allow me to do the talking. It’s a small but important moment as we learn to navigate our life together. I consider donning the Witch Queen persona, but the effect would be moot on Nemesia, who has so often seen that mask. Instead, I opt for soft leggings and a navy tunic, braiding my hair back in its classic style. At Thorne’s insistence, I wear daggers on both thighs. We both know I won’t need them, but the mating bond requires these small compromises to settle the persistent desire to protect.

Thorne brushes a piece of hair off my face, then squeezes my hand in my bedroom before we aerstep to Nemesia’s door. Four guards stand at alert, barely reacting when we arrive. They all bow quickly before one of them pulls a key from his belt and unlocks the door. Thorne and I enter, hand in hand.

Nemesia doesn’t look good. White-blonde hair hangs in matted clumps around her face. Her eyes are hollow, very little emotion reflected in them as she sits in a leather chair by the fire. Her clothes are still dirty and soiled from the weeks she spent in the cells. A twinge of guilt stabs my gut.

“Have you not been provided with clean clothes and water for washing?” I ask, sternly. Nemesia doesn’t even look up at me, just continues staring into the fire that warms the room.

“I have. Don’t feel like cleaning up.”

“And why not?” I ask, shocked at the person who sits before me. She only shrugs, and I look at Thorne, suddenly lost for what to do. He squeezes my hand, encouraging me to trust in my own instincts. “You will clean yourself up before speaking to your Queen,” I command with the aether-voice. Nemesia stiffens, clearly trying to fight the compulsion, but eventually stands up and walks toward the bathing chamber, eyes burning with fury and hatred. For once, I don’t feel guilty using the aether-voice in this way. Something tells me Nemesia may not have washed up without it.

I seat myself by the fire while I wait for her. Thorne finds a beverage cart and makes me a cup of steaming tea. I smile when he hands it to me, grateful for this silly and small thing he always insists on. Rather than sitting beside me, he takes up a place against the wall behind me, leaning against it with his arms crossed. If I wasn’t already completely enamored with him, I would be after this. As always, he’s so beautiful it nearly takes my breath away, and the way he can pull off disinterest impresses even me. I sense that a subtle but strong shield of light surrounds me where I sit on the couch, invisible to all but myself. Just like me, he can perform incredible feats of magic with no sign of it in his expression.

When Nemesia returns from the bathing chamber, clean and in fresh clothes, she looks closer to the female I know, though her eyes are still haunted, and her frame is too thin. She collapses into a chair, and I study her for another moment before speaking. Something’s changed in the weeks she was in the cells. She was angry with me when I visited before, pleading that I had made a mistake. Now, it seems indifference has settled over her. That bolt of guilt shoots another strike through my body.

She notices me staring at her, and says, voice a sarcastic sneer, “Happy, YourMajesty?Am I clean enough to be in your presence now?” I ignore the barb.

“You told Admon you discovered something you would only share with me. I’m here now. What is it you wanted me to know?” Nemesia’s eyes quickly dart to Thorne, uneasiness crossing them. “A lot has happened while you’ve been away. Thorne and I are… allies.” I opt to save the more unbelievable information for another time, still not sure I can trust her. “I trust him with any information you have to share.” She hesitates, staring between the two of us, scrutinizing us with those empty and hollow eyes.

“I discovered interesting information about the myth of fae mates while in Velmara. Would that be of interest to either of you?” I stiffen, instantly understanding what she’s looking for. She knows mates are real, suspects Thorne and I are connected in that way, and wants to determine if we know before she says anything more.

“It would, yes,” I say with a nod, the closest I’m going to come to admitting the truth. Nemesia nods, indicating she understands what I’m saying and the relationship between Thorne and me.

“Mazus knows. About the two of you, and your connection. It’s why he sent Prince Hawthorne here,” she finally admits, emotion returning to her somber eyes, body straightening itself to resemble the female I know. “Beyond that, I know nothing more of his motivation. I’ve already translated the section on mates from the book in Old Fae I brought with me. I wasn’t able to bring my notes with me, so I’ll have to copy it all out again to share it with you.”

“Why would you help us?” I ask, my voice tentative and questioning, seeking any clue in her expression or answer to help me determine whether I can trust her.

She deflates once again. “El, youmustbelieve me. I didnotsend that letter to the rebels. I intended it for you. I don’t know how it got to the rebels. They must be working with Mazus.” Her eyes are pleading.

I believe her, despite my desperation to hold her at arm’s length until we can prove without a doubt that she’s not working with the rebels. The realization makes me question my sanity. Am I so desperate for my old friend that I’ll believe anything to erase the months of heartbreak and betrayal I’ve felt? I fear that my trust will be misplaced. Fear it will be a mistake I deeply regret. But Nemesia has been by my side my entire life—if she wanted to betray me, it would have been so easy in the early years, when I was a complete mess after the war. Even if her opinion of me has recently changed, I just can’t believe she would work with the rebels. But I’m not ready to admit this to her.

“So Mazus knows that Thorne and I are mates,” I say, and her eyes widen. She understands the statement to be the closest thing to an olive branch I can give her right now, and I think I see her lips quirk just slightly. She nods. “Is that the secret you would only tell to me? You should know that Admon also knows. We turned to him for answers. Carex knows as well.” Thorne stiffens behind me, and I realize I hadn’t told him that Carex knew about us. I inwardly smirk at the alpha-fae jealousy I’m going to have to deal with later but turn my attention back to Nemesia.

“No, that’s not the secret, though I had no intention of telling anyone but you of Mazus’s knowledge.” She takes a big breath, releasing it in a sigh to steel herself. It’s a mannerism I’m familiar with, and it brings me a bit of relief to see her returning to her usual self. “I believe Mazus is a blood mage.” Her words are firm, confident. Both Thorne and I tense, and Thorne walks to my side, our arrangement forgotten, though I can’t blame him. This was not the news we were expecting. Nemesia gives him a suspicious look but continues. “Blood magic is not what we’ve always been told it is. You must have the affinity, just like any other conduit power. You can’t just decide to practice blood magic; it has to be something you’re gifted with. And the blood magic line comes from Velmara. I believe…” she trails off, and I give her an encouraging nod to continue. Thorne sits next to me now, hand in mine and body leaning in toward Nemesia. “I believe Mazus descends from this line. What’s more, I discovered information that says the Andomers, the light channelers—your mother’s line,” she says with a nod to Thorne, “once ruled Velmara, but were forcibly overthrown by the Vicant line, the blood mages.” Thorne’s coloring has gone pale, and I can see the gears turning in his mind.

“I was always taught that the Andomers tired of ruling, so they peacefully handed over the throne,” Thorne says, clearly realizing the absurdity of the words as he says them. Nemesia doesn’t tease him, simply nods in understanding.

“Did you find any proof that Mazus is actively practicing blood magic?” I ask, but Nemesia shakes her head.

“No. Once I suspected it, I decided I needed to get out. What’s strange is that the four books I arrived with were not in the archives. Mazus had them sent to me from his personal collection. I still don’t understand why he allowed me to find this information. It was too strange, so I had to flee. I tried to bring the librarian who helped me back to Thayaria too, but she… Mazus…” Nemesia’s voice cracks, and I almost reach for her, but I hold back, still wary.

“Admon told us,” I say instead, offering her the compassion of not having to recount the story. I decide to speak with her about this again at another time, suspecting the librarian was more than a friend. But I know better than most that some wounds have to scab over first.

“There’s more information about mates you should know,” she says, changing the subject. “According to the Old Fae book, Thayarian rulers used to always have an Andomer light channeling mate. Even then—wheneverthatwas—no one knew why. It just always happened, and it was usually the strongest among the light channelers who mated with the Thayarian monarch.” Thorne’s hand tightens around mine, and I grip it back tightly.

“The greenhouse,” he whispers, and I turn to look at him.

“What do you mean?” Nemesia asks. Thorne looks at me, seeking my blessing to take over the conversation, and I give him a nod.

“The greenhouse here in the palace. It reminds me of Eastern Velmara, and it struck me as a strange feature here. But it was practically life saving for my friends and I during Abscission, and I’ve been drawn to it. What if it was created specifically for those Andomer mates? To help give them a piece of home.”

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