shocked to see her cry for her sister-in-law. The woman who had betrayed her more than once. Patrick’s sister—and Simon’s puppet.
And that was it, wasn’t it? Donna thought. They’d all been puppets. Aunt Paige with Simon. Quentin with Simon, too. The wood elves with the faeries. Even Isolde, dancing to Demian’s tune. Everybody had had a master. She took a shuddering breath and finally allowed her mother to hold her. Rachel stroked her hair away from her face, kissed her forehead.
Donna looked up into her mom’s eyes—soft gray eyes so like her own. “How did it happen?”
Rachel shook her head. “Does it matter right now?”
“I need to know.”
“She was running from demon shadows. There were so many of them. Quentin was the closest. He tried to help, but there were just too many … ” Her voice trailed off.
Donna swallowed. What a terrible end. Nobody deserved that. Nobody. She had loved Paige very much at one time, even though it had all gone so wrong toward the end. Now there would be no opportunity to mend bridges with her aunt. No second chances.
No goodbyes.
Her mother drew back, holding Donna at arm’s length and examining her for a long moment. “How does it feel?”
Donna frowned. “About Aunt Paige?”
“No, of course not.” Rachel shook her head. “I meant … how does it feel not having the first matter inside you anymore? Do you feel different?”
“Not really.” Donna checked on that place in her chest, the place she focused on when trying to access her powers. It was empty. But not in a bad way. It felt okay.
“I feel fine,” she said. And she did, at least physically. “How’s Quentin holding up?”
Her mother smiled. “Very well, all things considered. He’s incredible.”
“Oh!” Donna’s eyes widened. Everything had been so overwhelming that she’d almost forgotten about Quentin’s unpleasant other half. “What happened to Simon? I haven’t seen him. Did … did something happen to him, too?”
It wasn’t that she cared. She just needed to know where she stood, now that things had settled down enough to actually think. Now that her “pet dragon”—as Navin seemed fond of calling it—was back where it belonged, safely sleeping until someone else with the first matter in their soul died and came back to life, created the Philosopher’s Stone, and then called it up to fight a war. (“That’ll be next week, then,” Nav had said with a grin.)
“Mom?” Donna prodded. “What about Simon?”
Rachel sighed, an unreadable expression on her face. “He died saving Quentin’s life.”
Ding-dong, the Magus is dead. She felt surprisingly calm. “At least he did something good. At the end, I mean.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” her mother agreed.
Donna realized that the expression on Rachel’s face was relief. She was relieved that Simon Gaunt was dead.
But Donna didn’t feel anything about it, not really. It registered, vaguely, somewhere at the very back of her mind, that at least her bargain with Queen Isolde had been fulfilled. Indirectly. Apart from that, she could only think of Maker and Aunt Paige. The Magus didn’t deserve her sympathy, though perhaps she should spare a thought for Quentin’s loss …
Nope. Donna shook her head. She couldn’t even do that. She honestly tried, but there was nothing left in her to give. No compassion for anything concerning Simon Gaunt’s life or death. He had lived long past his allotted time on this planet, anyway, and at what cost to so many others?
“The thing is,” Rachel continued, her face twisting into something resembling guilt, “I’m glad he’s gone.”
Donna nodded. This wasn’t exactly news. “I know that, Mom. Me too.”
“But it’s not that simple. Simon and Quentin … they were linked by Simon’s magic. Without him, I honestly don’t know how much longer our Archmaster can survive. So, although I’m glad that Simon Gaunt can no longer influence the Order of the Dragon, I just wonder if that freedom comes with too high a price.”
Oh, Quentin, Donna thought, immediately fighting a rush of guilt about her feelings. She remembered Demian’s conversation with Simon at the masquerade ball. So it was true—the Magus really had been keeping Quentin alive. Or, at the very least, keeping illness at bay. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm.
“Does that mean that Quentin will die?” Yet another death, she thought. Another part of her childhood drifting away.
“We all die, sweetheart,” her mother replied.
Donna looked up sharply, remembering her dream. “That’s the secret of life, right?”
Rachel gave her an odd look. “Well, yes. But I