IT TOOK ALL of Ravenna's strength not to retaliate. Her jaw clenched as Eoin stepped back, away from her. Her hands curled into tight fists. She felt her fingernails pierce the skin at the base of her palms, sending a sharp stinging sensation racing up through her arms. She tried to remember to breathe, to remain calm and collected. The pain helped. It distracted her.

Eoin started to pace in front of her. He muttered under his breath, his hushed tone laced with poison. His knuckles were painted bright red.

She folded her arms across her chest and watched. Her lips were wrinkled into a firm line. She refused to speak first, to give him any inkling that she would condone his actions. A simple disagreement did not call for an immediate attack. And if he really wanted to get into a fistfight with her, Ravenna would be very quick to show Eoin her true colors.

A sigh bristled through Eoin. He stopped his pacing and turned toward Ravenna. His cheeks were flushed —a mixture of embarrassment and anger boiling beneath his skin. "I apologize," he said. "I should not have struck out at you. You simply don't understand how important my people are to me. They are all that I truly have as a king."

Ravenna simply stepped aside and gestured toward the door, her expression a solid wall of ice.

His jaw clenched. He ducked his head. His chest heaved around heavy breaths —he must have been counting his angered breaths too, trying to calm down. She stared him down until he started to walk toward the door. He hesitated when he reached the threshold.

"I am sorry, Ravenna," he said.

She waited until he'd stepped into the hallway. Then she said, "Eoin, please remember. You aren't actually a king yet. No matter how much you do for the kingdom."

He turned toward her, a new fire glistening within his emerald eyes.

Ravenna met his gaze evenly. The sheer iciness in her voice sent chills down her own spine. "Do not get ahead of yourself, for pride and arrogance are not good traits in any ruler."

Before he could respond, she slammed the door shut. She flattened a palm against the intricately carved wood, pressing against it —waiting for him to attempt to force the door open. The moment he tried, a wall of ice would engulf it and block his entrance.

She could hear Eoin outside her door. He was counting his breaths again. It wasn't long before his footsteps echoed through the hall. She lowered her hand and stepped away from the door. Waves of fiery anger scorched through her veins.

Her talisman burned against her chest and small tendrils of ice danced across her knuckles. A shaky breath escaped her.

"Just another week," she whispered to herself.

There were only six more days until the wedding ceremony took place. The royal coronation ceremony took place the day after. Ravenna had until then to figure out how she would dispose of her only opposition. Once the current King and Eoin were gone, control would easily fall to the Queen. Especially when she had an army of ice soldiers at her disposal.

She just needed to figure out how to rid herself of Eoin and his father.

Ravenna changed into her nightgown. Alyss had been kind enough to leave it out on the mattress for her. She made a mental note to ask Alyss about her date in the morning. Once she was dressed, she crawled into her bed, the slender book that Mylo had given her in her hands. She'd already read through most of the book. The Royal history of Kahl was filled with gruesome fights and bloody monarchs —yet none of them had been assassinated in a quiet, discreet manner.

At least, from what she'd read so far.

She opened to the page she'd last left off. It was another somewhat boring account —the last Original King was about to meet his end, surrounded by his loved ones. His death was natural and expected.

She flipped the page and scanned over the written words. Her eyebrows furrowed. She took a moment to read it again.

Shock jolted through her and a quiet gasp tore from her lips.

The page revealed a new rendition of the original Queen Seraphyna's death —one that might hold the answer she sought.

Queen Seraphyna's legend had overflowed through the first ten pages of the book. Her segment went into great detail about her life and her major accomplishments. It also included her death, which had been a peaceful night's rest that had simply turned endless. The queen had been almost fifty years of age, and no one had questioned it.

That is, until nearly one hundred and fifty years later.

According to the page open in Ravenna's hands, the last Original had revealed the truth behind the ancient queen's death, all while on his own deathbed.

She'd been poisoned. With a spell.

The spell had been simple. The next page included sketches and the necessary ingredients. There wasn't much needed to perform the spell at all. It consisted of only four words and combined with a small magic doll made from blood. Once the words were spoken, the doll would begin to deteriorate, draining the life from its victim. When the doll vanished, a painless death awaited its target. A painless night's sleep that eased into endless darkness.

It was invisible. It was traceless.

It was perfect.

Ravenna eagerly read on. While historians disputed the last Original's story, heavy measures had been taken to ensure that such a crime would never take place. The royal wizards of the time worked together. Every wall within the kingdom was spelled to prevent the use of magic. Seraphyna's death was the reason that magic was outlawed within the Capitol.

She flipped back to the page that detailed the spell. In the margins of the page, hand-sketched images had been added to describe the blood-doll. The creation of the doll required the blood of a creature able to use magic. Ravenna could use magic. She wasn't actually human anymore, either.

Crawling out of her bed, Ravenna made her way toward her bathroom. She wanted to put some distance in between her and the door —just in case someone tried to enter. Once in her bathroom, she lowered herself to the floor. Slivers of moonlight crept through the bathroom window, glistening against the white stones beneath her. She set the book down beside her, taking great care to keep it open on the page that held the spell.

Ravenna closed her eyes and murmured a quick spell under her breath. When she reopened her eyes, her fingers were curled around a magical dagger made of ice.

She sliced the base of her palm open. With another whispered spell, the blood-painted dagger melted, vanishing from existence. She pressed her bloodied hand against the ground and began to draw.

Ravenna was not the best artist. However, the doll was not meant to be beautiful. When she finished her crude drawing, she pressed her palms together and focused.

Ice danced between her fingertips. Tiny snowflakes floated toward the ground. She watched as her smeared, almost dried blood absorbed the magic. It began to pool atop the stone, as if the magic were sucking each individual particle of blood from the stone to form a puddle in the shape of a small figure.

Once the liquefied doll was formed, Ravenna reached down. Her fingers carefully slid underneath it, lifting it from the ground. She was sure that it would lose shape, that it would splatter back down against the stone. But it didn't.

She held the doll in her hands. Wisps of ice floated in the air around it. The darkened liquid glistened maliciously in the moonlight. A wicked smile tugged at her lips.

"Long live the king," she whispered into the night.

A glowing sphere formed within the doll's liquid chest —an unnatural heart that flashed crimson and light blue. Ravenna whispered the four words, envisioning the King within her mind's eye. She repeated them over and over. The glowing sphere began to pulse within the doll.

It felt like a heartbeat.

Ravenna climbed to her feet. She pulled her talisman free from her dress and whispered a simple storage spell that Vyses had taught her. The talisman glowed bright red. She held the blood-doll over the pendant. It was sucked inside the necklace. The moment it vanished, all remnants of the spell vanished with it. She paused for a moment, the talisman still held within her palm. She could still feel the heartbeat.

A small shudder tore through her. Ravenna snatched the book from the ground and made her way back toward her bed. She crawled onto the mattress, her cheek sinking into her pillow.

For the first time in a long time, her eyelids genuinely felt heavy. Waves of exhaustion washed through her. She wasn't sure why she felt so tired. She might have taken too much of her own blood.

It didn't take long however before she found herself succumbing to the darkness.