"Should we go home, Ansel?" Grimhelde asked the raven resting on the windowsill. His feathers blended in with the dark clouds behind him. A storm had been brewing all day. Lightning flashed over the mountains in the distance. Something about the darkening sky redoubled her foul mood.

As usual, Ansel's only answer was a drawn out croak. He'd responded less and less to her calls over the week since Eirwen's death. It was as if he could feel her regret and chose to throw it in her face. His silent tantrum reminded her of when Eirwen would beg to go into town and the subsequent whining when Grimhelde said no.

How she'd ever said no to the little princess was beyond her. Often, Eirwen would fix her big brown eyes on her stepmother and puff out her lower lip. It never took long for Grimhelde to give in to the pleading after that. At least, she gave in until she realized Eirwen had been using a gentle form of compulsion to make Grimhelde do what she asked. For a child who hadn't turned to be able to compel an adult was a sign of her latent abilities waiting to burst forth.

She waved Ansel off and sighed when he flew out the window. "Leave me alone, just like all the rest." Grimhelde shut the window and started to turn away. A distant glow pulled her attention back.to the window. This wasn't lightning. It stayed low to the ground and bobbed like a chicken wandering down the winding road to the castle.

The light drew steadily nearer but the forest and hills kept its source out of sight. Grimhelde turned to the mirror and pulled its magic to the front. Slowly, an image appeared against the dark glass surface. The glow she could see solidified into a crowd of townsfolk headed straight for her. They looked calm though suspicious of the winding trail.

Long ago, before Grimhelde had made her move against the queen, they'd come to the castle often. Vendors brought samples of their wares hoping to find a part in the upcoming celebrations. Dressmakers and weavers paraded delicate fabrics for use in the castle and especially for the queen's personal use. The castle hadn't been a mysterious place then, but instead a beacon of excitement and security.

When Grimelde had moved in and slowly warded off the visits, their suspicion over what was happening there grew steadily. She knew it was only a matter of time before they gathered the courage to make the trip. She'd just hoped it wouldn't be so many of them at once, or during the worst time of her life. Not only did she not have the princess to help assure them the royal bloodline was intact, but she didn't even have Ryker to provide a bit of safety from any disgruntled peasant. There was certainly no hiding her sour mood either/

An idea began to form in her mind. Grimhelde couldn't deny her sadness, so the best thing to do was to show it in full. It was well known that a threat had been made against the royal family. They'd already killed both the king and queen and Grimhelde had valiantly kept their daughter and heir safe. She was only human though and a high spirited girl couldn't be contained forever.

The mirror's magic faded and Grimhelde quickly changed her dress to something more appropriate for mourning. A bit of magic lit the sconces in the entry hall and cleaned the dust. Heavy black cloth appeared to cover every mirror in the castle. The air felt heavy, another trick of hers. By the time they reached the front doors everything looked as it had before she'd sent the serving staff away, albeit more gloomy thanks to the dim lighting.

Cold air spilled in with the opening of the door. The townsfolk filtered in quietly, going still when they spotted her on the small raised dais. Unlike the throne room she had no official place to stand. She made do with the dais as it boosted her just slightly above the rest of them. It gave her a good vantage to see even the few lingering just outside the door. They were mostly the elderly who were only now catching up to the faster people ahead of them.

Grimhelde waited until they were all settled and placed a hand to her heart. She could feel its erratic pattern and made no effort to hide the shake in her voice. "I had not intended to give this awful news in this way. It pains me to tell you that the royal family is no more," she announced in a loud voice.

Gasps filled the room after the startling news. She waited for the whispers to die away before continuing. "On the eve of princess Eirwen's birthday, an assassin broke in and murdered her in the dead of night. For sixteen years I kept her safe only to have it all ripped away in an instant. My darling girl, gone." The tears began to fall, carving rivers down her cheeks. A hush fell over them again as they watched their queen sob.

Finally, someone stepped forward. "If it's all the same to you, we should like to verify the princess's death. We've brought the coroner to examine her," a tall man gestured for a shorter, thinner man to step forward.

The coroner gripped the brim of his hat, glancing back at his fellow townsfolk nervously. "It will be quite brief, your majesty. I regret to inform you it is vital to your ascension to the throne."

Grimhelde's eyes narrowed till she could hardly see beyond the still falling tears. "I am already queen, and I say there is no need. The princess has already been buried and I will not allow you to soil her reputation by ripping her from her final resting place."

He sighed and glanced behind him again before addressing Grimhelde. "I'm afraid that is not up to you. I must insist you show us to her grave or produce unshakeable evidence to support your claims," he said in a firmer voice. Several of the men in the crowd drew weapons in preparation.

"Are you daring to threaten me?" Grimhelde practically snarled at the insult. If she had to lay waste to half the town before they accepted her then she would. The grim thought left her as quickly as it had come. She had gone through this pain to protect them and now she was considering their death as if it was a discussion over tea.

The magic around her rippled and she pulled back before her rash thoughts could cause any misfortune. This could all be solved with a simple illusion. If she could get the coroner alone perhaps she could even press a fabricated memory onto him. Either option was preferable to the thoughts of mass murder. She gathered her heavy dark skirts in her hands and beckoned the coroner towards her.

"Majesty," he said when he was close enough for only her to hear. "Can you produce a body, or evidence?"

Grimhelde nodded slowly, pausing to press her hand over her heart. "If you will follow me this way, I can show you all you need to know." She reached along the magical lines that wrapped around every bit of the castle in order to calm him and urge him to follow her. They weren't there. The interconnecting web of magic and spells that she had spent years carefully crafting was gone as if it had never been there at all.

"Looking for something, stepmother?" a clear voice called out from the back of the crowd. Amongst the people Grimhelde had assumed to be the elderly was a couple that had been leaning heavily against each other. The woman pushed her hood back and the pale face of the princess was revealed in full.

No one in the crowd looked at all surprised about it. In fact, several were already bowing low as she passed to the front. They whispered her name as if a saint walked among them. The man at her side kept his arm held gently aloft for her to rest her hand on it. His deep brown eyes flickered with traces of red as they moved through the candlelight towards Grimhelde.

"Did I not tell you that she would lie?" Eirwen asked the gathered crowd. Her lips twisted in a sad smile. A cold wind moved her long yellow dress around her ankles like a twisting storm. She looked completely unbothered by the chill as she looked sadly at the townsfolk. "From the very beginning she's plotted the downfall of my family so that nothing would stand between her and the throne. Thanks to your quick action, we will be able to stop her dastardly plot."

Grimhelde again reached for the magic and felt something press against her wrists. She looked down quickly but saw nothing. The steady burn that wrapped around her wrists and traveled up her forearms made her whimper. This was magic, so different from her own it felt almost foreign. The pressure of it sapped her strength and drove her to her knees.

"This horrible witch has stolen my family, my childhood, and everything I loved. She nearly took my life and I will be eternally grateful to prince Ezekial for coming to my rescue," Eirwen looked up at her companion, adoration written clearly across her face. "If not for his quick thinking, I may have lost not only my life, but the kingdom my parents sacrificed their lives for."

The flashes of red in their eyes went seemingly unnoticed by everyone but Grimhelde. Her wrists were bound in iron manacles which blocked her last fading grasp on the magic she'd become accustomed to. It was the last thing that had been hers, the last bit of warmth her heart had clung to. As they dragged her down to the icy dungeons below her eyes met Eirwen's.

Any anger fell away in horror as Eirwen's gleeful smile gave way to a harsh sneer. The princess's lips parted to mouth a promise to her stepmother.

"See you soon."