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Having Vlad watch the castle vigilantly for Dendrite's return is a comfort, but it's not enough. She may only be fifteen-years-old but there's an adult sized cruelty wrapped inside of her. The thunderstorm still rages outside and from my rooms the flashes of lightening are clearly visible. I must know where she is.
I walk to my dressing table, grabbing the handheld mirror. There are no thoughts or plans in my mind, my body acts as though knowing exactly what needs to be done. I snatch the letter opener from my writing desk and sit on the bed with the two objects. My crazed reflection stares back at me, blood drying on my lips as though I've drunk it from a pool. I set the mirror down, take up the letter opener and hold the sharp tip in the air above the mirror. I press a fingertip hard into the blade, closing my eyes against the pain. Then I watch as drops of blood fall to the reflective surface.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
They spread out toward each other.
"Mirror, Mirror in my hand, show me where she's in the land." A black spot forms in the middle of the blood and spreads until a thin line of red encircles the mirror. White lightening flashes through the darkness. There are trees and running through them is a young girl. Hair as black as night, lips as red as blood. For the first time, there is fear in those eyes. Though the lightening is gone, she's still visible, running forward, glancing over her shoulder. Rain pelting her in the face, her clothing soaking wet. She comes to an abrupt stop at the edge of a cliff. Blackness lay before her. I squint with her as we both peer into the void.
She's run to the ocean.
A smile spreads across my face. Vlad may have let her go, but there's no way she can survive the night in those woods.
I leave the mirror on the bed and prepare myself for the night. Washing away Vlad's blood from my face and hands. Washing away the day, the months and the years, the filth of this life that has been building.
I meet my reflection once more, face cleaned and fresh and yet—there is no longer a light in my eyes. I've achieved revenge on everyone who has wronged me and I should be jubilant, but I feel nothing.
Nothing at all.
THE END
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Queen of Shattered Dreams
Teen FictionSixteen-year-old Mila has caught the attention of the (soon-to-be) widowed king. She, however, has no desire to be queen, much less the wife of the disgusting old man. She longs for the freedom to develop her rare and forbidden gift of magic and to...
