Page 14 of Off with Her Head

"I am a sensible queen." But even as I say it, I know it's not the whole truth. My concern for her goes beyond strategic calculation. Icarein a way I haven't allowed myself to care for anyone in years. The realization is terrifying.

Ravenna finally takes a sip of the water, color gradually returning to her cheeks. "We need more information. My mirror may show us more.”

"Then we should go to Darkmore," I decide. "As soon as you're recovered enough to travel."

Ravenna studies me over the rim of her goblet, those penetrating eyes missing nothing. "You surprise me, Queen of Hearts."

"Perhaps I'm learning to rule more gently." I meet her gaze directly. "Or perhaps I simply recognize an extraordinary opportunity when I see one."

"And what opportunity is that?"

"The chance to understand you more." I lean forward, lowering my voice though we're alone in the throne room. "Don't tell me you're not curious about what is happening between us."

"Curiosity can be dangerous," she says, but I see the interest flickering in her eyes. "Particularly for queens with kingdoms to protect."

"Everything worthwhile carries risk." I stand, smoothing my battle-stained skirts. "Rest today. We'll leave for Darkmore tomorrow at dawn."

Chapter

Six

RAVENNA

My room in Scarlett’s guest chambers feels too quiet after the chaos of battle. I stand before my newly delivered mirror, still in my torn and bloodied dress, watching as silver mist swirls across its shiny surface. My fingers trace the crack that appeared sometime during the fight—small, barely noticeable, but present.

Like a warning.

This mirror has been with me since childhood, a family heirloom passed down through generations of Darkmore rulers. Unlike ordinary looking glasses, it doesn't simply reflect—itreveals. Possibilities, probabilities, paths stretching forward through time like branches of an ancient tree. Blood magic activates its prophetic abilities, allowing me glimpses of what might be, what could be, what perhaps should not be.

But never before has it shown damage. Never has it resisted my attempts to see clearly.

Until now.

I inspect the crack carefully, noting how it refracts the silver mist within, creating multiple images where once there was clarity. Is this only physical damage, or something more symbolic? A manifestation of my own uncertainty, perhaps,or a reflection of the unprecedented changes occurring in our kingdoms?

"Show me," I whisper, pressing my bleeding palm against the glass. The mirror laps at my blood eagerly, but the images it shows are disjointed. Edmund's forces gathering. Mara's face, twisted with hatred. Scarlett—

The vision shifts suddenly,violently. I see Scarlett in her chambers, preparing for bed. But there's movement in the shadows behind her, a glint of steel—

"No!" I scream.

I'm running before I fully process what I've seen. My bare feet slap against the marble floors with each stride. Pain and exhaustion from dealing with the prisoner fade beneath a surge of adrenaline. My heart pounds so hard I can barely breathe, blood magic rising to the surface of my skin.

Not for me, but forher.

For Scarlett.

The vision replays in my mind: the assassin emerging from the shadows, blade raised, Scarlett unaware—

The corridors of her castle stretch endlessly, twisting in ways they shouldn't, delaying my progress. I can’t tell if it’s the natural dream-like chaos of Underland making me feel like I’m moving in slow motion, or the sheer fear of something happening to Scarlett.

I reach her chambers just as a muffled crash sounds from within. Without hesitation, I blast the doors open with my magic, energy burning across my skin as I channel more power than is wise after my earlier exhaustion.

Scarlett is backing away from two men, each dressed in Edmund's elite guard armor. She's in her nightgown, her red hair loose around her shoulders, but her green eyes burn with fury as she searches for a weapon. One of the guards lunges for her with a crystal-tipped blade.

Magic surges through me, dark and powerful. I throw out my hand, and shadows wrap around the first guard's throat, lifting him off his feet. The power comes instinctively, fueled by fear. But the second guard is already moving, his blade singing through the air toward Scarlett's unprotected back.

I don't think. I just move.

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