Page 30 of Off with Her Head
"Then our attempts to unite our magic against her might be playing directly into her hands," Ravenna finishes, running a hand through her tangled hair. "The mirror showed us that one of us must fall. What if we're merely creating a conduit for Mara's power?"
The thought is devastating, undermining everything we've done,everythingwe've become. If our growing connection and our deepening feelings are part of Mara's plan rather than the solution to it...
"No," I say firmly, refusing to accept this possibility. "What's happening between us is real. Ifeelit, Ravenna. This connection isn't corruption—it’s fate."
She looks at me, those piercing blue eyes studying my face. "How can you be sure? How can either of us know if our thoughts are truly our own anymore?"
It's a terrifying question, one without an easy answer. I step closer to her, taking both her hands in mine. Magic flows between us instantly, a current of power that feels natural,right.
"This," I say, lifting our joined hands. "This is how I know. Corruption destroys. It dominates. It consumes. What flows between us creates. It harmonizes. Itnurtures."
I can feel her wanting to believe me, wanting to trust the connection we've formed. But fear and doubt cloud her thoughts, remnants of her sister's betrayal still shaping how she views trust.
"We need to return to Underland," I tell her. "Now. If Mara plans to attack there next, we should be prepared."
Ravenna nods slowly, her decision made. "We'll leave immediately. The carriage should still be ready."
As we prepare to depart, I can't help but wonder if we're making the right choice. If Mara believes our transformation serves her purposes, perhaps separating would be wiser. But the thought of being apart from Ravenna now feels impossible—our magics have become too intertwined, our connection too essential.
But as we walk toward the waiting carriage, another thought troubles me: what if the mirror's vision is inevitable? What if, no matter what choices we make, one queen must fall for the magic to be properly balanced?
And if so, which of us will it be?
Chapter
Twelve
RAVENNA
The carriage rocks gently as we travel toward Underland. Beside me, Scarlett gazes out the window, her expression troubled. Our hands are linked, and she’s rubbing her thumb over mine with anxious strokes.
I study her profile in the shifting light. The Queen of Hearts, feared ruler of Underland, is a complicated tapestry of strength and vulnerability. The fiery curls of her hair catch in the increasing sunlight as we approach her kingdom.
The soldiers' revelations haunt me.The seed is planted. Now we merely wait for it to bloom.My sister always had a gift for manipulation, for finding weaknesses and exploiting them. What if our growing connection—this thing I've come to cherish—is actually her greatest triumph?
"You're questioning everything," Scarlett says softly, her voice cutting through my thoughts. It's no longer surprising when she senses my mental state; our minds brush against each other constantly now, thoughts and emotions flowing between us effortlessly.
"Aren't you?" I counter, turning to face her fully. "After what they said?"
"Of course." Her free hand comes up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. "But I still believe what I said before. What flows between us doesn't feel like corruption. It feels like..."
"Balance," I finish when she hesitates. "Like pieces fitting together as they were meant to."
She nods, relief evident in her expression. "Exactly. And if Mara believes she can use that connection for her purposes, then perhaps we simply need to understand it better than she does.Controlit more effectively."
"The Blood Tree responded to you," I muse, following this line of thought. "A source of blood magic that should, by all historical precedent, reject any power not of Darkmore's royal line. Yet it accepted you as if you belonged."
"And the roses in Underland have changed," Scarlett adds. "My card-soldiers report black roses blooming throughout the kingdom, while the traditional red ones develop black veins."
I consider this, idly twisting a strand of hair with my free hand. "We're working toward the same thing through vastly different strategies."
The realization shifts something in my understanding of what we face. Mara isn't wrong about the need for unification—she's wrong about themethod. The corruption she spreads isn't the goal; it's her twisted approach to a legitimate problem.
One queen must fall for the other to serve as guardian of unified magic. The mirror didn't specify which of us would pay that price, but I suspect it will be me. My blood magic makes me the natural conduit for transformation—the perfect sacrifice to ensure balance.
Scarlett's eyes narrow as she studies my face. "You think it'll be you," she states, not questioning. "You've believed all along that you'll be the one to fall."
I don't deny it. She can practically read my thoughts at this point. "Blood magic has always required sacrifice. It seemsfitting that the ultimate unification would demand the ultimate price from Darkmore's queen."
