Queen Rising Read Free Page B

happy that she was gone.
    â€œNo, she’s not.”
    He nodded. There were no tears this time. Only acceptance. Perhaps he was too young to understand that their mother had sold them, but he seemed to know this much.
    The soldier who had led her in appeared again in the doorway of the anteroom. Their time was up.
    She kissed her brother’s forehead and got up to leave. “I will be back as soon as I can come. Okay? And don’t you worry about the witches.”
    â€œThe food is strange. The boy is strange. I miss you. I don’t want you to leave,” Go’s words came out in a rush.
    Each one struck Margot squarely in the heart. But she didn’t want Go to see.
    â€œYou know how stories begin, right?” she asked, forcing a smile.
    â€œOnce upon a time.”
    â€œAnd how they end?”
    â€œHappily ever after,” he said automatically.
    â€œWell, right now we are still in the in-between. And I promise . . .” Her mouth stalled on the word “promise.”
    There is no bind that cannot break
, the witch had said.
    â€œI promise you there is an end for us and it is happy.”
    â€œAnd we will be together?”
    â€œWhat other kind of happily ever after is there?” Margot asked with a smile.
    â€œNo, Margot, you have to say it. You have to promise.”
    â€œI promise.”
    She hated the lie. Nothing in their lives had ever ended up happily ever after. But she was not going to be responsible for turning out the light in her little brother’s eyes.

7
    When Margot returned to the Hollow, she found Ora in the hearth room. Ora couldn’t wait to hear what the palace was like. Margot could tell that Ora cared about what happened to Go; but she also wanted to know about the royal family, what the castle looked like, and how the Prince was. If Margot didn’t know better, she would have thought that Ora wanted to be a princess in the palace more than she wanted to be a witch.
    Just then, the Witch of the Woods appeared in the doorway.
    â€œIt is time for a lesson,” she said. Her voice was sometimes barely audible. Now it was a scratchy whisper, like branches clawing through the wind.
    And then the witch cut off one of her branches and burned it down to ash. She took the ashes and put them in a little glass vial. She spoke into the vial and the contents liquefied. And then she handed Ora the vial and ordered her to swallow the contents.
    Ora did so obediently.
    â€œSpeak,” said the Witch of the Woods.
    â€œWhat’s happened to me?” Ora boomed in a mellifluous tone.
    â€œI gave you the gift of song. It will only last a few minutes.”
    Margot looked at the vial and said, “Teach me . . .”

8
    The years passed, a blur between palace visits and witchy magic. Margot never stopped seeing Go. And she never stopped attempting to get that spark back. But the power that ignited that very first flame in her palm never came again. Instead, she found another kind of magic—one fueled by potions and silvery tongue and trickery—and took to it like a moth to a flame.
    But there was a cost. Every visit with Go showed a change in him, not just his height but his manners. He became more and more of a gentleman and she became more and more of a witch. Margot noticed the distance between who they were becoming, but she still believed in their happily ever after.
    There were other girls—witch apprentices—before her and there would be others after her. But Margot was the only one who had shown a real talent. There had been other glimpses of magic. A girl who made plants grow. A girl who sensed death. But none of those girls stayed as long as Margot. And almost none of them wanted to be a witch as much as she did. And Margot never bothered to make friends with them. She already had Ora. And the witches. And her brother. The other girls were temporary.
    One morning Margot was fencing with Cassia, the Witch of the Woods,