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Gwyn cries out.

My pulse hammers.

This insight must be enough.

“Release the connection, Gwyn.”

Her breath is ragged. “I can hold on a little longer⁠—”

“What is wrong with the witch?” Mother asks cautiously.

“Nothing,” I say, eyes on Gwyn. “We’ve gotten what we came for, little witch. Cut the connection.”

Gwyn’s gaze shifts from me to Mother, and for a moment, it brightens as if she’s just had a brilliant idea. With a hesitant smile, she unthreads her fingers from mine and shoves me out of the summoning circle.

Chapter 31

GWYN

Riven’s going to be livid.

I wish I could say I don’t care and mean it, but I do care.

But there was no way he’d let me stay a moment longer, risking a long sleep, to ask a question about a flower—even if that question might give us additional proof that Devlin is a corrupt bastard.

“Where is my son?” Eliana asks, voice clipped. “What did you do?”

“He’s fine.” I’m panting as pain lances through my ribs. “I need to ask you something about the bouquet left atop your tomb, and I didn’t think it was appropriate to ask while Riven was still present.”

“What about it?”

“Well, it had several flowers representing grief, longing, and love, but it also contained mystglove, which has multiple representations, most of which center around betrayal,” I explain.

Her brow furrows. It’s the same way Riven’s does when I catch him by surprise.

“Mystglove used to grow wild in the forest where I’d spend long afternoons with Devlin,” she says, tone wistful. “He’d pluck a stem, tuck it behind my ear, and whisper, ‘You are my life, my soul, the reason why I breathe.’ before brewing me some tea with the blossom he picked just for me. We’d⁠—”

“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand to stop her. “You drank tea brewed with mystglove?”

“Almost daily. It relaxed me, eased the ache in my heart so I could enjoy life again.”

By Dagny.

Queen Eliana didn’t die from the Fading.

Lord Devlin poisoned her.

And she has no idea, even in death.

“Eliana,” I begin softly, worrying my lip. “There’s something you need to know.”

Eternal one, Death warns. You do not have time to meddle.

She’s right. My connection is waning, but if I were Eliana, I’d want to know the truth.

Just one more minute.

“The suspense is killing me,” she says dryly.