Page 20 of Off with Her Head
This is not a dream…
Outside the carriage windows, flowers begin to bloom along the roadside—roses neither fully red nor fully black, but a deep burgundy.
When we finally part, both breathing hard, I see that her eyes have changed—still blue, but with threads of green now woven through the iris. A reflection of my own eyes, just as the magic flowing through us is no longer entirely hers or mine, but ours.
"That," she says, her voice low and slightly rough, "was everything I dreamt it would be and more."
I can only nod, still processing the magnitude of what just passed between us.
"Darkmore lies just ahead," she says, glancing out the window at the rapidly darkening landscape. She seems less affected than I’m feeling. Far more calm and collected. "Are you ready?"
I follow her gaze, seeing the shift from Underland's bright chaos to something mysterious. The trees grow taller here, their branches stretching like grasping hands against a sky that holds both stars and faint sunlight simultaneously. Flowers glow with inner luminescence, their petals closed. The very air seems thicker,charged.
"Yes," I say, squeezing her hand. "I'm ready."
The carriage crosses the invisible line between our kingdoms, and Darkmore welcomes us with a sigh of wind that carries the scent of night-blooming flowers. Ahead, barely visible through the dim light, I catch my first glimpse of Ravenna's castle—black spires reaching toward a star-strewn sky, windows glowing withsubtle candle light, shadows moving with purpose around its base.
Beautiful. Dangerous and mysterious and utterly compelling.
Much like its queen.
"Welcome to Darkmore," Ravenna says softly. "My kingdom. My home."
The carriage continues forward, bearing us deeper into the dark kingdom. Into Ravenna's domain, where dreams intensify and boundaries blur. Where the next stage of our journey awaits.
I have never been more terrified. Or more alive.
Chapter
Eight
RAVENNA
Watching Scarlett experience Darkmore for the first time is like seeing my kingdom anew through her eyes. As our carriage moves down the road, her expression shifts between wonder and wariness, curiosity and caution. The Queen of Hearts, so accustomed to the bright chaos of Underland, now surrounded by subtlety.
The carriage passes through the outer gates, iron and shadow intertwined in a barrier that admits only those I permit. My magic recognizes Scarlett now, andacceptsher as an extension of myself rather than an intruder. The implications of that would be concerning if I had the energy to examine them properly.
In the courtyard, my commander and a small contingent of shadow-warriors await. Unlike Scarlett's card-soldiers, mine are flesh and blood, though augmented by the same magic that flows through my veins. Their armor absorbs light rather than reflects it, and their movements are silent as they bow in unison at our approach.
"Welcome home, My Queen." Lysander steps forward as the carriage door opens. His eyes flick briefly to Scarlett, then returnto me with barely concealed curiosity. "And welcome, Queen of Hearts, to Darkmore."
Scarlett inclines her head regally, every inch the monarch despite the intimacy we've just shared. "Commander. Your reputation precedes you."
"As does yours." Lysander's tone is carefully neutral. "The west wing has been prepared for your stay, as Queen Ravenna instructed."
"The west wing?" I frown slightly. "No. Queen Scarlett will be staying in the eastern tower, adjacent to my chambers."
The alteration to my earlier instructions hangs in the air, its significance not lost on either Lysander or the shadow-warriors. The eastern tower is traditionally reserved for family members of Darkmore's ruling line, not visiting dignitaries. By placing Scarlett there, I'm making a statement about her importance—one that will inevitably spark speculation throughout my court.
Lysander's expression remains impassive, but I know him well enough to read the subtle widening of his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw. "As you wish, My Queen. I'll have her belongings moved immediately."
"See to it." I turn to Scarlett, offering my arm in a gesture that will further fuel the court's gossip. "Shall we?"
She takes my arm without hesitation, her touch sending a comforting surge of magic through our connection. "Lead on, witch-queen."
As we enter the castle, I watch her take in the differences between our kingdoms. Where her halls are bright marble and gold, mine are obsidian and silver. Where her light comes from chandeliers and windows, mine emanates from small candles and blood sigils carved into the very stone, pulsing with gentle crimson luminescence. The air is cooler here, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers and the faint metallic tang of magic.
"Your court is... sparse," she observes as we pass through the main hall, where only a few nobles and creatures stand in quiet conversation. Unlike the constant bustle of Underland's court, Darkmore functions with minimalist efficiency.
