Page 23 of Off with Her Head
Without thinking, I'd moved to help her into a more comfortable position. She stirred just enough to grasp my hand,murmuring, "Stay," in a voice I couldn’t walk away from. And somehow, between removing her shoes and loosening her dress, I found myself lying beside her, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath.
Now, hours later, I study the woman who has so completely upended my understanding of myself.
How quickly everything has changed. A week ago, we were strangers, rival queens maintaining an uneasy peace. Now we're allies, certainly, but more than that.
I lift my hand, examining the faint shimmer beneath my skin where sigils similar to Ravenna's occasionally appear, then fade. Should I be afraid? The Queen of Hearts I was a week ago would be terrified. But I find I'm not afraid.Curious, yes.Waryof the unknown, of course. But not afraid of what’s happening with Ravenna.
Perhaps because I've already changed in ways I never anticipated.
I watched her take a blade meant for me, fought alongside her against Edmund's forces, felt her magic flow through my veins like liquid euphoria. I kissed her in the liminal space between our kingdoms, merged my magic with hers through the Blood Tree, and saw the way our united power affects everything it touches.
And I actuallylikewho I am when I'm with her. The queen I'm becoming with Ravenna feels more authentic than the Queen of Hearts I've been for years.
Beside me, Ravenna stirs, her eyes opening slowly. For a moment, she seems disoriented, unused to waking with another beside her. Then recognition dawns, and something softens in her expression.
"How long was I asleep?" she asks, her voice still husky from rest.
"A few hours." I resist the urge to brush a strand of hair from her face, maintaining at least some semblance of proper distance. "The sun hasn't moved, of course, but the castle has grown quieter."
A small smile touches her lips. "The sun never moves in Darkmore. It's the world that shifts around it."
"A fitting metaphor for its queen," I observe. "Constant, unchanging, while others orbit your gravity."
"Until now." She reaches for my hand, and our magics connect immediately, the current of power flowing between us as naturally as breath. "Until you."
The admission hangs between us, weighted with significance. Neither of us has been particularly forthcoming about what's developing between us. We've acknowledged the physical attraction, certainly. The short kisses we've shared have left little doubt about our mutual desire. But it’s so much deeper than that. We just haven’t said it aloud.
Perhaps because naming it would make it real in ways we're not yet prepared to face. Perhaps because queens like us aren't supposed tofeelsuch things—not for rival monarchs, not for anyone. Vulnerability is a luxury neither of us has permitted ourselves in years.
"How is your wound?" I ask, deflecting to safer territory.
Ravenna sits up carefully, her hand going to her side. "Better. The pain is receding, though not completely gone."
"May I?" I gesture toward the bandages visible at the slit of her dress.
She nods, turning slightly to give me better access. I pull at the fabric, widening the slit, leaving her side completely exposed. The bandages around her torso are pristine, but when I carefully unwrap them, I can see why—the wound is healing rapidly, the black veins fading to gray, then silver, before disappearing entirely near the edges.
"It looks great," I observe, tracing the skin beside the faint wound, bringing goosebumps to the surface.
Ravenna watches my hand move across her skin, her breath catching slightly when I touch a particularly sensitive area. I don’t miss when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, letting her eyes roll slightly as they flutter closed.
Fighting back a smile, I apply a fresh bandage with supplies left on the bedside table, trying to ignore the intimacy of the moment.
"We should consult your great mirror," I say, finishing with the bandage.
Ravenna nods, rising with more ease than before. She reshapes her dress with practiced movements.
At the center of Ravenna’s grandest wall stands the great mirror itself, its black frame carved intricately, along with thorny vines that seem to move subtly when viewed from the corner of the eye. The surface doesn't reflect but rather churns with silver mist, occasionally parting to reveal glimpses of places, people, and events yet to come. There’s a large crack running through the center of it, distorting many of the images.
"It's alive," I breathe, sensing the consciousness within the glass. Not human, not entirely sentient in the way we understand it, but aware.Watching. Waiting.
"In a way," Ravenna agrees. "The mirror has existed since Darkmore's founding, accumulating knowledge, power, and awareness with each generation of blood magic wielders who have consulted it. It knows more about my kingdom than I do."
She approaches the mirror, drawing a ritual knife from a sheath at her waist. The blade is black iron with bits of silver running through it, the handle carved from what appears to be bone. With practiced precision, she slices her palm, letting blood well up before pressing it to the mirror's surface.
"Mirror mirror on the wall, show us," she commands. "Show us what Mara has found beneath Ironwood. Show us how we can counter her plans."
The silver mist within the mirror churns violently, reacting to Ravenna's blood. The smaller mirrors around the chamber begin to pulse in rhythm, their surfaces glowing.
