Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
SCARLETT
I 've heard stories about sharing a bed with a witch. That their magic seeps into your dreams, that their power leaves marks on your skin, and that you wake changed in subtle but irreversible ways. I always dismissed such tales as superstitions.
Now, lying beside Ravenna in my own bed, I'm not so sure those stories were entirely false.
She sleeps deeply, exhausted by blood loss and magical exertion. The corruption from the crystal blade seems to have stopped spreading, contained by our combined magic, but faint black veins are still visible beneath the bandages wrapped around her torso. In sleep, her face loses its careful composure, revealing a vulnerability I suspect few have ever been permitted to see. Her black hair spills across my crimson pillows like ink.
I should be sleeping too. Dawn comes early, but rest eludes me, my mind racing with everything we've seen and learned. Mara's corrupted blood magic. The crystal-controlled soldiers. The mysterious pool beneath Ironwood. And that final vision from the mirror—myself lying motionless on a battlefield, surrounded by carnage.
Is that my fate? To die in this coming conflict? The thought should terrify me, but strangely, it doesn't. What terrifies me is the idea of Ravenna facing Mara alone, without me at her side. The idea of what we've discovered together being lost before it can fully develop.
The idea of never knowing what might have happened if I'd closed the distance between us, if I'd pressed my lips to hers during those charged moments we've shared.
Beside me, Ravenna stirs, a small sound of distress escaping her lips. Her brow furrows, and her hands clench in the silk sheets. A nightmare. Given what she's endured, I'm not surprised.
Without thinking, I reach out, placing my hand over hers. Our energies connect immediately, flowing together in a circuit. Where our skin touches, a faint glow emanates.
The contact seems to soothe her. The tension in her face eases, and her breathing steadies. Whatever darkness pursued her through dreams retreats, at least for now. I should remove my hand, and return to a respectful distance. But I can't find it in me to break the connection. The flow of our combined magic is addictive, a heady sensation unlike anything I've felt before.
Eventually, I too succumb to exhaustion, slipping into dreams filled with black roses and crimson shadows, with pools of mysterious liquid and crystal armies. But through it all, a constant remains—Ravenna at my side.
T he carriage waits in the courtyard, a magnificent conveyance of red lacquer and gold filigree, pulled by six white horses with roses braided into their manes. It's ostentatious, impractical, and exactly what I'd expect of the Queen of Hearts. Except I rarely use it, preferring to avoid leaving my castle at all when possible.
The card-soldiers bow as we approach, their paper forms rustling in the morning breeze. They'll escort us to the border of Darkmore, then turn back—their magic is too intertwined with Underland to function properly in the kingdom of eternal twilight.
Ravenna pauses before entering the carriage, her gaze sweeping over the castle and its surroundings. "Your kingdom is beautiful," she says unexpectedly. "Chaotic, excessive, utterly impractical—but beautiful nonetheless."
"I’m sure yours is as well," I reply. "In its own dark, mysterious way."
She smiles faintly. "We shall see if you still think so when we arrive. Constant night takes some adjustment for those unaccustomed."
I help her into the carriage, noticing how she winces slightly despite her attempts to hide it. The wound at her side may be contained, but it's far from healed. Another reason to reach Darkmore quickly—her own kingdom's magic might aid her recovery in ways Underland's chaotic energy cannot.
As I join her inside, closing the carriage door on the staring eyes of my court, an unexpected feeling washes over me. Not anxiety about leaving my kingdom, not trepidation about entering hers, but something lighter. Something almost like... excitement.
I'm leaving the borders of Underland for the first time in years. Going to Darkmore, a kingdom I know only through reputation and rumor. And I’m going there with her .
The carriage begins to move, wheels crunching over the rose-petal-strewn path that leads from my castle. Through the window, I watch Underland slide past—the card-soldiers standing at attention, the magical creatures going about their bizarre daily routines, the roses blooming. My kingdom.
Will it look different when I return? Will I ?
Ravenna's hand finds mine in the dimness of the carriage, our magics instinctively connecting with that now-familiar surge of power. "Having second thoughts?" she asks.
"No." And it's true. Whatever lies ahead, facing it with Ravenna feels right. "You?"
"None." She squeezes my hand gently. "Though I should warn you—Darkmore may be... disconcerting at first. Dreams become more vivid, emotions more intense."
"You say that as if Underland is the pinnacle of logical reality," I reply with a small smile.
She laughs softly. "Fair point. But Underland's chaos is bright, visible . Darkmore's influence is subtler, more insidious. You might find yourself thinking things, feeling things, that you normally wouldn't."
The warning carries an undercurrent that makes me feel uneasy. Is she concerned about how I'll react to her kingdom? Or about how she'll react to having me there? About what might happen between us in a place where emotions intensify and boundaries blur?
"I'll keep that in mind," I say.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The only sounds are the carriage wheels on the road and our slightly quickened breathing. The air between us feels charged, heavy in such a private and enclosed space.
"What do you want, Queen of Hearts?" Ravenna asks finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
It's a dangerous question. One that demands a level of honesty I've rarely allowed myself, even in the privacy of my own thoughts. But as we leave Underland behind, crossing into the borderlands between our kingdoms, I find I want to answer it.
"I want to protect my kingdom," I begin, choosing my words carefully. "I want to understand this magic that defies everything I thought I knew about power. I want..."
I hesitate, the final truth hovering unspoken between us. Ravenna waits, patient, her eyes never leaving mine. The carriage passes into shadow as we enter the forest that marks the boundary between our kingdoms, and twilight begins to fall around us—our first taste of Darkmore's eternal dusk.
In the dimness, with reality already beginning to shift in the way she warned it might, I find my courage.
"I want to know if your lips taste as sweet as they look," I confess softly. "I want to explore whether the connection between our magics extends to our bodies as well. I want to find out what happens when the Queen of Hearts allows herself to feel something besides fear and anger."
Ravenna's breath catches, her pupils dilating in the growing darkness. For a moment, I think I've gone too far, revealed too much. And then she's leaning forward, closing the distance between us with deliberate slowness.
"As it happens," she murmurs, her breath warm against my lips, "I want much the same."
The first brush of her mouth against mine is tentative, questioning and cautious. A request rather than a demand. But when I respond, sliding my free hand into her hair to pull her closer, hesitation vanishes like morning mist into sunlight.
Where our lips crash, energy surges between us, intertwining in a helix of power that makes the very air in the carriage shimmer. Her hand cups my face, gentle despite the strength I know she possesses, and I find myself melting into the contact, hungry for more.
My fingers tighten in her hair, and she makes a soft sound against my mouth that sends heat spiraling through me. Her tongue traces my lower lip, requesting entry that I eagerly grant. The hand not holding mine slides to my waist, drawing me impossibly close.
Time loses meaning, reality narrowing to the points where our bodies connect—lips, hands, the press of her body against mine as I pull her nearer still. The magic between us builds, wild and beautiful, red and black energies swirling together.
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 with subtle 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.