I went back to my room and released Hecate’s ashes.
“What do you think, Mother? Can I beat Lavendra?”
Competition wasn’t something that was encouraged among my sisters. Nor was revenge, for that matter. Hecate took a form of repose at the foot of my bed as if she were too tired for all my scheming.
I plopped down on the bed beside her.
I sighed, wanting praise from the ashes that never seemed to come. Hecate was judging me in death as she had in life.
“I did this. I brought her here. The Queen doesn’t come to the Couterie. The Couterie come to the Queen . . .”
But the ashes were unmoved. Hecate’s silhouette was defiantly still.
I flashed back to the day I had performed my biggest feat of magic—giving South wings. It was the worst thing I had ever done, and then I remembered the words Hecate had said: Be careful what you wish for, Farrow.
“ ‘With enough will and enough magic, anything is possible,’ ” I whispered, thinking of Hecate’s words that day. But I hadn’t any magic. My will would have to be enough.
There was a knock on the door. It was Holocene, one of the maids. Hecate dutifully flew up to the ceiling, hovering overhead while Holocene peeked into my room. If the Shadows were beneath the Couterie, then the maids were even further down the hierarchy. If we were shadows, they were practically ghosts.
“Madame Linea wants you to know that the Challenge is set for two days from today. The Queen and the prince will be in attendance.”