Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
SCARLETT
I stand outside the grand doors of the meeting hall, listening to the murmur of voices within. Gariel reports that Ravenna sits at the conference table, flanked by two men—her commander and her liaison to Underland, just as expected.
"How does she look?" I ask before I can stop the words from coming out.
Gariel’s feathers tinkle as it cocks its head. "Like the most magnificent night given form, My Queen."
I roll my eyes at the poetic description, though my stomach flutters. "Open the doors," I order as I square my shoulders and straighten my posture. "Let's give our guests a proper welcome."
The doors expand, and I force myself to count to three before stepping into the room. My heels click against the marble floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. I've perfected this walk over the years—hips swaying just enough to be noticed, head held high, each step precise and measured.
And then I see her .
My steps nearly falter.
The rumors, I realize, don’t do her justice. Ravenna rises from her seat with fluid grace, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. She's tall, agile but slim, wrapped in a black gown that fits like a second skin. Her face is perfectly symmetrical—high cheekbones, full red lips, piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through my carefully constructed facade. Her black hair falls like silk around her shoulders, and her pale skin seems to glow in the candlelight.
Fairest in all the lands, indeed .
I force myself to keep walking, to keep my expression neutral despite the way my pulse is racing. This is absurd. I am the Queen of Hearts. I do not get flustered by a tempting face, no matter how extraordinary that face might be.
"Queen Ravenna," I purr, letting authority drip from every syllable as I take my seat at the head of the table. "Welcome to Underland."
Those arctic eyes study me with unsettling intensity. "Queen Scarlett." Her voice is deeper than I expected, rich and smooth like honey. "Your castle is... fascinating."
Through the windows behind her, I can see several of my card-soldiers still painting the roses. One of them has started to shake, his brush trembling as he works. I'll have to deal with that later.
"How gracious of you to notice," I reply as disinterested as I can manage. My skin is too hot, too tight. I'm acutely aware of every breath she takes, every slight movement of her body. It's infuriating. "Though I hear your own castle is quite... distinctive ."
"You mean dark and forbidding?" Her lips curve into something that's not quite a smile as her eyes rise to meet mine. "We can't all rule through theatrical displays of power."
The two men beside her tense, but I find myself fighting back a genuine smile. Someone who isn't afraid to challenge me.
"No," I agree, letting my gaze drag obviously down her body before meeting her eyes again. "Some of us prefer to isolate our power in the shadows."
A flicker of something crosses her face—surprise? Interest ? It's gone too quickly for me to be sure. But I don't miss the way her eyes linger on my neckline before rising to meet my gaze again.
We spend the next hour discussing border security and trade agreements, but it feels more like an elaborate dance. Every word is carefully chosen, every gesture deliberately calculated. Her commander occasionally interjects with military concerns while her liaison takes detailed notes, but I barely notice them. I'm too captivated by the way Ravenna's hands move as she speaks, the subtle shifts in her expression, the quiet confidence she exudes with very little effort.
It's during a discussion of border security that the Cheshire Cat appears, materializing directly behind Ravenna's chair with his massive, unsettling grin. To her credit, she doesn't flinch when he speaks.
"My queens," he purrs, his striped tail swishing lazily. "I hate to interrupt such a fascinating meeting. But I bring warnings of serpents in your gardens."
I straighten in my chair, pulling my attention away from the elegant line of Ravenna's throat. "Speak plainly, Cat."
"Queen Mara's marriage to King Edmund is not as it appears." His grin somehow widens between words. "The new queen plays a deeper game, and her new king is not the power he appears to be."
Ravenna goes very still, and I watch as magic ripples beneath her skin like lightning. The temperature in the room drops, sending a chill up my spine.
"Leave us," she commands her men, her voice like ice. They hesitate only a moment before retreating.
I wave my hand, dismissing my own attendants, leaving just the two of us and the Cat, who continues to float behind Ravenna's chair with that knowing smile.
"Tell us everything," I demand, but the Cat only chuckles.
"Where would be the fun in that?" He begins to fade into mist. "Watch the shadows, my queens. Not all of them belong to you." His grin is the last thing to disappear.
I study Ravenna's face, noting the tight set of her jaw and the barely contained power in her eyes. "Your sister," I say softly. "The one who tried to overthrow you."
I’ve heard the stories. We all have. It wasn’t all that long ago when Ravenna’s sister committed traitorous acts against Ravenna and her kingdom.
"The very same." Her fingers trace patterns on the table, and I realize she's drawing magical sigils. Protection spells, perhaps? A nervous habit? "Though I'm more interested in why the Cheshire Cat feels the need to warn us both ."
She's right, of course. The Cat rarely involves himself in politics, preferring to watch and smile from the sidelines. For him to appear like this...
“Come,” I say, gesturing for her to rise from her seat. “Walk with me.”
She does as I ask, and we leave the conference table without another word, promenading until we’re in the heart of my garden.
"Your garden seems less chaotic than the rest of your kingdom," Ravenna observes. Her steps are silent beside mine. "More controlled."
"It follows different rules," I reply, hyper-aware of her presence beside me. The subtle scent of her perfume—dark roses and something with a metallic tang, like blood—makes it difficult to focus. "The chaos of Underland can be... exhausting. Even for its queen."
She glances at me, and I see a flicker of surprise in her blue eyes. "You would admit to such weakness?"
"Is it weakness to acknowledge the costs of power?" I counter, leading her deeper into the maze. The hedges shift subtly as we pass, opening a path for us. "Or is it weakness to pretend no cost exists?"
Ravenna is silent for a moment, considering my words. "In Darkmore, we believe that acknowledging the price of power is a step toward true strength. Blood magic requires sacrifice—to pretend otherwise would be folly."
"And what do you sacrifice, Queen of Darkmore?" The question slips out before I can stop it, more personal than I intended.
She lifts her hand, and I see faint scars crisscrossing her palm—dozens of them, some old and white, others newer and still pink. "Blood. Pain. Normalcy ." Her voice is soft, almost contemplative. "The ability to trust. The luxury of vulnerability."
The honesty of her answer startles me. I had expected deflection, perhaps even mockery. Instead, she's offering a glimpse of the woman beneath the crown—a woman who understands sacrifice because she makes it daily.
We reach the fountain at the middle of the maze. Black marble gleams in the falling sun, the red water catching the light like liquid rubies. Around us, the hedges have grown higher, ensuring our privacy. The roses here are different from those elsewhere in the kingdom—darker, their petals veined with black, their scent heavier and more intoxicating.
"And what do you sacrifice, Queen of Hearts?" Ravenna asks, trailing her fingers through the crimson water. Ripples spread outward, disturbing the perfect surface. "What price do you pay for your theatrical displays of power?"
I should be offended by her characterization, but there's no judgment in her tone—only curiosity. "Connection," I admit, watching her fingers in the water. "Authenticity. The ability to be seen as anything other than an object of fear."
"And yet you persist in ruling through terror." She turns to face me fully, those arctic eyes piercing my soul. "Why?"
"Because it works." I move to stand beside her at the fountain's edge. Our reflections waver in the red water, distorted by the ripples. "Because fear is reliable when nothing else is. Because when my parents were overthrown, their kindness did not save them."
Understanding flashes across her face. "You lost your parents to rebellion?"
"Assassination." The memory still burns, even after all these years. "I was young. They were too trusting, too focused on being loved rather than respected. Their kindness was seen as a weakness. I learned from their mistake."
Ravenna is quiet for a moment, studying my face. "And I learned from my sister's betrayal that trust is a luxury a queen cannot afford." A small, bitter smile curves her lips. "Perhaps we are not so different after all, Queen of Hearts."
"Scarlett," I say impulsively. "When we're alone, you may call me Scarlett."
She seems surprised by the offer, those stunning eyes widening slightly. "Ravenna, then." She holds out her scarred hand, and after a moment's hesitation, I take it.
Magic surges between us at the contact, wild and unexpected. I gasp, letting my jaw drop slightly as I feel power flow from her to me and back again, a circuit of energy that makes my skin tingle and my heart race. It's intoxicating, more intimate than any touch I've experienced before.
"What is that?" I whisper, unable to pull away despite the intensity of the sensation. Despite how out of control I’m feeling.
"I don't know." Her voice is equally soft, equally awed.
We stand there, hand in hand, as magic dances between us. The roses around the fountain begin to change, their red petals taking on a deeper hue, their stems growing thorns that gleam like obsidian in the dimming light. In the fountain, our reflections blur and merge, becoming something new entirely, something neither wholly Underland nor wholly Darkmore. It’s red and black, swirling with sparks of energy throughout its ever changing shape.
"This is impossible," Ravenna murmurs, her eyes fixated on our joined hands. "Blood magic doesn't share. It takes, it consumes , but it doesn't... blend."
And yet we both feel it—our magic intertwining, strengthening, transforming. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
After a moment, I reluctantly release her hand, and the magical current between us fades. But something lingers—a warmth in my chest, a subtle awareness of her presence that wasn't there before. Looking around, I see that the roses near the fountain have changed permanently, their red petals now edged with black.
"The Cheshire Cat knew," I realize suddenly. "That's why he wanted us both to hear his warning. He knew what would happen when our magic touched."
Ravenna studies the transformed roses, her expression unreadable. "If that's true, then there's more at play here than just Mara's schemes. The Cat rarely involves himself in politics unless the stakes affect reality itself."
"What does your sister want?" I ask. The question feels safer than examining what just happened between us, safer than acknowledging the lingering warmth in my palm where hers had rested.
"Power," Ravenna says simply. "My power, specifically. Blood magic is hereditary in our family, but its strength varies. Mara's magic was always weaker than mine, and she never forgave me for it." She gestures to the thin white scar on her throat.
I flinch at the lasting brutality of it. "Your own sister?"
"Blood ties mean little when power is at stake." Her voice is cool, but I can see the old pain in her eyes. "She disappeared after her attempt failed. Reports suggested she had died, but clearly, that was wishful thinking."
"And now she's married to King Edmund of Ironwood." I move to sit on the edge of the fountain, considering the implications. "A kingdom known for its anti-magic stance and iron weapons, which dampen magical ability."
"An unlikely alliance," Ravenna agrees, "unless Mara has found a way to use iron to her advantage. Perhaps to channel magic rather than suppress it."
"Or to suppress specific kinds of magic while enhancing others." I look up at her, an idea forming. "Your blood magic is powerful, but it has rules, limitations . What if Mara's found a way around those limitations?"
Ravenna's eyes widen, and I can see her mind racing, considering possibilities she'd never entertained. "That would explain why the Cat warned us both. If Mara can manipulate the fundamental laws of magic..."
"Then our kingdoms are no longer safe." I finish the thought, a chill running through me despite the warm evening.
We fall silent, contemplating the enormity of the threat. Around us, the transformed roses seem to pulse with magic, their petals opening wider even as daylight fades. In this moment, the differences between us seem insignificant compared to the possible danger we both face.
"We need more information," Ravenna says finally. "My mirror can show me possibilities, fragments of potential futures. But for something this important, I'd need to consult it directly."
"And I need to increase security at our borders." I rise from the fountain's edge, reluctant to end our conversation but aware of the pressing reality. "The Card Army must be prepared for potential attacks."
Ravenna studies me, her sharp face thoughtful. "Perhaps we should coordinate our defenses. If Mara is truly planning something that threatens both kingdoms, we would be stronger together than apart."
The suggestion makes strategic sense, but it's more than that. The thought is almost dizzying. I’ve never trusted someone else to the extent of aligning forces with them.
"An alliance," I say, testing the word. "Between the Queen of Hearts and the Queen of Darkmore."
"Between Scarlett and Ravenna," she corrects softly. She somehow looks less like the fearsome witch-queen of legend and more like a woman carrying burdens similar to my own.
Before I can respond, a card-soldier appears at the entrance to the fountain clearing, his paper body rustling with urgency. "Your Majesty! A messenger has arrived from the eastern border. There are reports of strange lights and unnatural movements in the forests of Darkmore."
Ravenna tenses beside me. "When?"
"Within the hour, My Queen," the soldier replies, bowing to both of us—a subtle acknowledgment to the feeling of change in the air between us. "The phenomena appear to be moving toward the border between our kingdoms."
I exchange a glance with Ravenna. "It seems our time for discussion has run out."
"So it would appear." She straightens, regal and powerful once more. The vulnerable moment we shared feels suddenly distant, like a dream fading in the light of dawn. "I should return to my kingdom immediately."
"Of course." I gesture for the soldier to lead the way back through the maze. "I'll have your carriage prepared."
As we hurry, the hedges part before us, creating a direct path to the castle. The magic between us still hums, subtler now but undeniably present. I can't help but wonder what might have happened if we'd had more time tonight.
At the castle entrance, her retinue awaits, their faces tense with the news from the border. Ravenna turns to me, formal once more in the presence of others.
"Queen of Hearts," she says, her voice carrying the appropriate blend of respect and distance. "I thank you for your hospitality, no matter how short the stay."
"Queen of Darkmore." I incline my head, matching her tone. "Safe journey. I look forward to exploring our diplomatic relations.”
As she steps into her carriage, light from the rising moon catches in her dark hair, and I find myself already longing for our next meeting. She turns, and our eyes meet one last time. I see the same longing I’m feeling in my chest, and I feel my heartstrings pull harder when she breaks eye contact and disappears inside the carriage.
The carriage disappears into the night, taking the Queen of Darkmore back to her twilight realm.