Page 92 of The Queen's Box

Poppy arched her brows. “You’ve got a secret way of communicating with the duskwyrms, do you?”

“Well, no.”

Poppy clicked her tongue. “As I said, then. Can’t help the Blighted if you can’t control the wyrms. And there’s nobody, ever, who’s learned to control the wyrms.”

“I don’t understand,” Willow said.

“Well, sure. You’re just a mortal.”

“Yes, Poppy. I know. But you’re not. Could you explain it to me? Please?”

Poppy sipped from her drink. “Just—the queen doesn’t blight the babes. Only the wyrms have that power. Only the wyrms.”

“So if Serrin wants to help the babies, he’ll need to rid the realm of duskwyrms.”

“And how would he do that?” Poppy demanded. “Duskwyrms are fast. Quick. You might catch a glimpse of one every now and again, sure. But has a faerie ever caught one?” She snorted and shook her head. “Get rid of the duskwyrms—honestly!”

Willow’s spirits sank.

“Oh, don’t take it so hard,” Poppy said. “Our Prince Serrin—he has lots of ideas rattling around in that brain of his. He hasa different approach, he says. Do I think it’ll work? No, can’t say that I do. But you might find it cheering.”

“What is it?” Willow asked.

“He’ll help the Blighted babes by guiding theparentsback to the light,” Poppy said proudly. “‘If we fix the root, the fruit won’t rot.’ That’s how Serrin put it.”

“I see,” said Willow uncertainly.

“Do you?”

“Kind of, I suppose. Just—not all bad fruit comes from a bad root, does it? And not all good roots guarantee sweetness. Sometimes fruit spoils because of the weather. Or rots in the soil. Or insects get to it, and no one knows until it’s too late.”

“So you’re a fruit expert now,” said Poppy with a chuckle. “Or do you think such things because you grew up in the mire?”

Heat crept up Willow’s neck.

“I’m not blaming you for it,” Poppy added quickly. “You weren’t in charge of where you were born. But it proves Serrin’s point, doesn’t it? Mortals grow up tainted, and they don’t even know it.”

“Poppy . . .”

“Not you. You’re different,” Poppy said staunchly. “You’re the best mortal I’ve ever known.”

“I’m theonlymortal you’ve ever known.”

Poppy shrugged, as if to say,See?

“But blame is slippery,” Willow continued, “don’t you think?”

“Not really, no.”

Willow sighed. “Parents shape their children, yes. But they’re not the only thing that does. Doesn’t it scare you, the idea that if you don’t fall in line, your baby might suffer?”

“Only there’s a simple fix, miss, isn’t there? Stay in line.”

Willow smiled and nodded, keeping her lips pressed together. They could go around and around on this, and Poppy’sbottom line would remain the same. Prince Serrin was good, the Blighted were bad. Poppy wasn’t built for nuance.

Jace, on the other hand . . .

Jace had a mind like a steel trap—Willow was sure of it. Any opinion Jace held about the realm was bound to be sharp and worth hearing. The problem was, Jace rarely let anything slip. She was quick with a joke and always good for a friendly chat, but when it came to what she actually believed? Willow just didn’t know. Sometimes she worried Jace didn’t trust her enough to say.

---