Page 21 of Off with Her Head
"We value quality over quantity," I reply. "Each person you see has a specific purpose, a precise function. No unnecessary courtiers, no excessive ceremony."
"How very practical." But there's no criticism in her tone, only thoughtful consideration. "And your magical creatures? I see few here."
"They tend to dwell in the forest surrounding the castle. Those that do reside within these walls serve specific magical functions—librarians, archivists, guardians of particular spells or artifacts." I guide her up a spiraling staircase, noting how the exertion affects my injured side. The pain is manageable now, but still present—a reminder of Mara.
Scarlett notices my slight wince. "You should rest. The journey has taken a toll."
"Time is a luxury we can ill afford," I echo her words from earlier. "Mara won't delay her plans while we recover."
"Mara won't be defeated by queens too exhausted to think clearly, either." Her hand covers mine where it rests on her arm, our magic pulsing at the point of contact. "A few hours of rest, Ravenna. Then we face whatever your mirror shows us."
I want to argue, but the logic is sound. And truthfully, the wound in my side throbs with increasing intensity now that I’m up and walking.
"Very well. A brief rest." I lead her down the eastern corridor toward our chambers. "But first, there's something I want you to see."
We climb another staircase, this one narrower and steeper. At its top is a simple wooden door, unadorned save for a singleblood sigil carved into its center. I press my palm against it, and the sigil glows in recognition, swinging open silently.
Beyond lies a greenhouse unlike any in Underland. Where Scarlett's gardens are structured chaos, carefully controlled wildness, this space is striking with little effort. Black roses bloom in profusion, their petals absorbing light rather than reflecting it. Shadow-lilies unfurl only in true darkness, their luminescent centers visible now as ghostly orbs hovering above black stems. Moon-orchids climb the glass walls, their petals translucent as spider silk and just as strong.
And at the center of it all stands a single tree, neither fully alive nor dead, its bark the color of dried blood, its leaves silver as starlight. The Blood of Darkmore, the source of the most powerful blood magic in the kingdom.
Scarlett's breath catches as she takes in the scene. "This is... extraordinary."
"This is where the true magic happens," I tell her, watching her reaction closely. "The source of my family's blood magic, the anchor that maintains the eternal twilight. Few outside the royal line have ever seen it."
She approaches the central tree reverently, understanding the significance of what I'm sharing. "May I… touch it?"
I nod, curious to see what will happen when heart magic meets the source of blood power. "Carefully."
Scarlett reaches out, her fingers brushing the crimson bark. The moment they connect, magic surges through the greenhouse. The black roses turn slightly toward her, as if recognizing a new presence. The shadow-lilies glow brighter. The silver leaves of the Blood Tree rustle without wind.
But most astonishing is what happens to Scarlett herself. Where her fingers touch the tree, her skin takes on a faint luminescence, heart magic responding to blood magic. The threads of blue in her green eyes grow more pronounced, andfor a moment—just a moment—I see sigils like mine shimmering beneath her skin.
"It recognizes you," I breathe, amazed.
She withdraws her hand, looking at her still-glowing fingertips with wonder. "What does it mean?"
"I don't know." And that's the truth. This is unprecedented, unexplainable by any magical theory I've studied. "But I suspect it's related to whatever happens when our magics combine."
Scarlett looks from her hand to me, a question in her eyes. "Should we... try to combine our magic directly with the tree?"
The suggestion is both thrilling and terrifying. The Blood Tree is the most sacred site in Darkmore, the source of my family's power for generations. To deliberately channel foreign magic through it would be either brilliant or catastrophic.
"It could be dangerous," I warn her. "The Blood Tree doesn't just sustain my family's blood magic—it sustains the entire kingdom. If something were to go wrong..."
"But if something were to go right," she counters, "it might give us insight into how our magics can work together against Mara."
She’s not wrong. And here, in the heart of my power, we might safely explore the connection between us without risk of Mara's interference. If there's anywhere in either of our kingdoms where we could fully understand what's happening between our magics, it's here.
"Alright," I decide. "But we proceed with caution. At the first sign of danger, we stop immediately."
She nods, her expression serious. "Agreed."
I move to stand on the opposite side of the Blood Tree, placing my palm against its bark directly across from where hers will rest. "On three, we both channel our magic into the tree. Not forcing, just...allowingit to flow."
Scarlett positions her hand, and I feel our magics reaching for each other even before we touch the tree. "One," she begins.
"Two," I continue, gathering my power.
