Page 85 of The Queen's Box

“The duskwyrms bite the babes who are wicked,” Poppy explained. “Never the good wee tots, just the wicked ones. And then they’re forever marked, aren’t they? It seems a sadness, their little bodies so broken and bent, but it’s for their own good.”

“The duskwyrms—which are snakes, right?” Willow said. “We’re talking about snakes?”

Poppy pulled Willow’s gown tighter at the waist. “We are.”

“And you’re telling me they bite babiesfor their own good?”

“They do the Goddess’s work, bless them.”

“Poppy. How can a baby be wicked?”

“Same way a kitten’s a kitten and a fox is a fox.” She straightened the fall of fabric over Willow’s hip. “Can’t change a creature’s nature.”

Poppy steered Willow toward the mirror above the washstand. Together, they surveyed the result: the blue gown cast a gentle glow across Willow’s skin, and her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders like sunlight. The shadows beneath her brown eyes hadn’t vanished, but the effect was softened. She looked like a porcelain girl, newly painted.

“You look splendid,” Poppy declared, dimpling with pride.

Willow smiled uncomfortably.

“Still nervous about your debut, are you?” Poppy said. “Don’t be. You’ll be grand, I just know it. Anyway, aren’t you famished? I am. We’re having porridge with wild berries. My nose caught a hint of it earlier, and—”

She broke off, her body going rigid and her eyes locking on something just over Willow’s shoulder.

“By the Ancient Ones,” she whispered, lifting a trembling finger. “There.”

Willow’s heart jumped into her throat, and she found herself unable to turn around. It was just like that first day in Lost Souls, the day she met Ruby and Brooxie. She’d passed through the stone door in their root cellar, landing hard on her hands and knees in a room dark with shadow. When she’d heard Cole’s slow clap, her muscles had locked up just like they were locked up now.

And yet Cole hadn’t been scary. He’d turned out to be pretty great, actually. It was almost impossible to fathom, but she wished he were here.

But Cole was in Lost Souls, and she was in Eryth. Whatever had turned Poppy to stone, Willow would have to face it alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY

AT FIRST, WILLOW saw nothing. But then—there. Something small and winged clung to the wall, creeping upward on legs as thin as whiskers.

She laughed. “Poppy, it’s just a mosquito!”

Poppy stared at her blankly. “A what?”

“A mosquito,” Willow repeated. Yes, they were annoying, but they weren’t fanged vipers waiting to nip at your toes.

Poppy shook her head. “My lady, no. That’s... that’s a mordrek.”

“A what?”

The mosquito detached from the wall and drifted lazily toward them, its strident buzz bringing back memories of summer outings.

Willow brought her hands together with a clap and opened them to reveal a smear of blood and the crumpled remnants of the bug.

“There,” she said, wiping her hands with a tissue from the bedside table. “All gone.”

Poppy’s eyes grew huge. “You killed it?”

“I did,” Willow said. She laughed again. “You’re safe, Poppy. I promise.”

Poppy remained frozen where she stood. “Amordrek. In the queen’s guest quarters.”

“Don’t I need to get to the Hall of Mornings?” Willow said. Loathe though she was to participate in yet another ritual of pomp and circumstance, she might as well get it over with. “For my debut?”

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