Aryan shrugged out of his coat, and Mari carefully folded it and put it away. She was his most faithful companion, the most loyal out of all his servants. She was the one that had closed the door as soon as he had made his proposition.

He saw the look in Sim’s eyes, the frenzied part of her brain that told her it was the logical thing to run. Then there was the even more logical part of her that said she should stay. It was amazing how quickly she regained her composure.

“It will not be easy,” she admitted. “And you might lose your life in the process.”

“You?”

“I would not join hands with you if it meant any risk to me,” Sim told him. Sim knew she sounded horrible, heartless. But she had lived too long and yet was too young to die. She had to survive.

“I’ve been studying your laws, your history,” she said. “And I overheard why your brother was killed. I think that is the only way to defeat her. Obviously no single vampire is strong enough to overcome her. We will need to involve your entire family in the effort.”

“You want to create another vampire? Do you even know what that means?”

“No. I haven’t thought about the specifics yet. I don’t know whether we will have to actually create another vampire, or simply… trick them all.”

“My parents can see through lies very easily.”

“Then we shall have to do it for real.”

“It will not work then. The queen will not willingly create another vampire, at least not now. And I definitely won’t.”

“The queen willingly won’t. Knowingly won’t. But unwittingly she may do just that. As I understand it, vampire blood is what causes the transformation isn’t it?”

Aryan nodded. He had thought her a fragile flower of sorts, but the way she thought was far more malicious than he imagined. She was talking about making another beast in order to kill the one that already existed.

“Yes. But do you realize that the transformation is basically equal to death. The first few days of the transformation, the person is more dead than alive. It’s a horrible thing to wish upon anyone, let alone actually do it,” Aryan explained.

“I know that if we choose a good person we will cause more good than harm. And the queen will be dead. Why not choose someone who is already dying, give them a chance to live?”

“That—”

“Is our only option,” Sim said. “I will give you time to consider it.”

* * *

Morgan stirred the white wine in the goblet. All she needed were a few drops of blood from her future husband. Things would be fine after that. Aryan would die, she would be rid of the nuisance of Margennar. The great royal couple of Margennar would hardly bother her after losing their two precious sons both to their own laws.

A long time she had thought that Aryan had no heart, no weakness. She had thought that Aryan had no weaknesses, had affection for no one. But after his entry to Mirtlemeadow she saw a different side of him. He had quite the thing for the young girl. Perhaps it was her fragility that drew him, the idiocy of her youth that he perceived as innocence.

Whatever it was, it would be his undoing. He had mocked her love for Nikayl, laughed at her rejection. Nikayl had made one mistake, not realizing that she had the power to survive. He had thought she was dead when he left her.

It had been a miracle that she survived. It was fate, in a way. That the one that was supposed to die lived, and the immortal princes both died. The queen and king were on their way with the integrals of their court, all travelling to a wedding that would never occur.

Morgan turned the pages of her spell book, stopping at the one spell she never had occasion to use. It was the one spell she never thought she would use. The ingredients were almost impossible to obtain, and the instructions almost incomprehensible. She’d tortured an old woman and killed her for the recipe.

It was the recipe that she had to be most careful with. No one else in the world knew of its existence, and she preferred that it stay that way. She knew that as many people lusted for the power of being a vampire, an equal number wanted to be rid of it. Or at least to rid others of the power.

The potion was something she had never made, but knew the ingredients by heart. She set about preparing a large batch of it. If nothing went her way, she would go through with the wedding and mix the potion in with the cake.

A bloody wedding.

The thought brought a smile to her face. Things would go her way or else they would go to hell.

* * *

Mari ordered the silver powder from the jeweler and carried the leather pouch back to the castle, hidden beneath her skirts. Aryan followed every one of the little princess’s instructions to the very letter. He thought about her, talked about her. All Mari saw in the princess was a fraud. She pretended to be innocent, idiotic, and traipsed around the castle as if she had nothing on her mind. Once she opened her mouth and gave freedom to her thoughts all of those impressions were torn away.

She was just as calculating as her stepmother. How much she resembled the queen in her intentions was yet to be determined. It was one of the reasons why Mari didn’t understand why Aryan trusted her so implicitly.

Without the black hair and the blue eyes Mari was quite similar to the girl, except for a few inches taller and her skin not as pale. But he’d never looked at her like he looked at the princess. Mari didn’t realize that he never would.

The guards at the castle doors cast her appreciative looks as she walked by. She didn’t like the queen’s guards, didn’t like the way they ruled over everyone else with a superiority much like the queen’s. They were boorish and rude, even to the visitors.

She jogged through the halls that were empty until she reached the prince’s room. She was there again, drinking tea and chatting. There was familiarity there, which scared Mari. The girl was the personification of purity. But she was surrounded by evil on all sides. The castle buzzed with gossip for people who knew how to listen.

They said that the old soothsayer took one look at her palm and ordered Awain not to marry her. They said that the girl saw her nursemaid being murdered and sucked dry before her very eyes as a child. They said that the girl spent her days amongst books instead of people. Mari knew that none of the things she heard were normal. Whatever she heard about the princess, there were an infinite number more of her secrets.

“Oh, Mari! Were you able to obtain it?” the priness asked.

Mari pasted on her smile and nodded, passing the pouch into the princess’s hands reluctantly. She didn’t know what the princess planned with the silver. But the way Aryan leaned away from it, it wasn’t a good thing.

“How much did he give you?”

“Half a pound,” Mari answered.

“Well, if it doesn’t work. I think it will kill her,” Aryan commented.

“Please your highness, killing her can’t possibly be that simple,” Sim answered. “She would live just to spite us if she could.”

“She would… this is nice silver. Good quality. Well done, Mari. You may leave now,” Sim said.

Dismissed like a delivery girl. Mari knew she was jealous of the princess. It was better she didn’t run from the truth. However, the princess certainly didn’t make it easy to like her. She never spoke to anyone, rarely ever smiled. Except when she was with Aryan. She would give him those conspiratorial little smirks occasionally and Aryan would join her in their private joke.

Before they had come to Mirtlemeadow Mari had thought Aryan ignored her because she was human. It was painful having her theory disproved. At least before Aryan had treated her as a confidante, as a friend. But he had found a better version of her with a higher status and a better brain. She knew that things could not get any worse for her when Aryan shooed her away without bothering to even look at her.