The cellar reeked of old food and mildew. Erik struck her across the face, and her head snapped sideways as a metallic taste spread across her tongue.

"You bitch! You've been sneaking out with him!" She tried to right herself, but he grabbed her by the front of her dress, pulling her close to his face. "How long did you think you could hide it from us, huh?"

"I wasn't trying to hide it," Mina hissed through her teeth.

"Oh? So tell me, why does he still live? Why haven't you driven a knife into his back yet?"

Mina spat in his face, blood and saliva just barely missing his eye. Seething, he caught her by the throat, his grip tightening as she clawed at his arm, nails digging into flesh.

"I bet you've been having a grand old time playing house with him, right? I bet his bed is real nice."

Mina attempted to scream, but Samira clamped a hand over her mouth. Mina could feel hot tears burning the back of her eyes, but she knew better than to cry in front of them.

"What are we going to do about her?" Samira asked. "She's gone soft."

Mina clamped her teeth on Samira's palm until she tasted more blood. Samira recoiled, slapping Mina's already bruised cheek and leaving a trail of her own blood streaked across.

"Like it or not, I'm the closest anyone has ever gotten," Mina sneered, tearing at Erik's grip with all her might. "You need me."

"You think you're special? We'll just find someone else."

Her eyes blazed. "You've seen the way he looks at me. He won't be getting over me anytime soon, and you know that."

Erik slammed her head back against the wall but released her. Mina doubled over, hacking and coughing heavily.

"Wanna know something?" she continued even before she fully caught her breath. "He told me he loved me today. Isn't that proof that I've done exactly what I've come here to do?"

"Except the most important part," Samira scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is that why you haven't killed him? Because he's the only one you think would ever love a used up thing like you?"

Mina wiped the blood from her mouth. "I don't love him."

"Liar."

Erik laughed incredulously. "You expect us to believe that? You promised me poison as well. Where is it?"

Mina's breath hitched, but she disguised it as a scoff. Reaching into her pocket, she drew out the vial and shoved it in both of their faces. "Right here."

Samira snatched it from her, examining the liquid sloshing around inside. "How long have you had this?"

"Less than a week," she lied.

Erik clicked his tongue. "Yet another wasted opportunity which further proves our point."

"It proves nothing. I haven't forgotten my purpose here."

"Oh please. Since you obviously can't kill him on your own, why don't you let us help you? All you have to do is lure him outside of the castle walls again, and we'll handle the rest."

A shiver ran down Mina's spine, but she refused to let any sliver of fear show. "He's busy. He doesn't have time for another excursion."

"Look at you defending him. Pathetic."

Mina gritted her teeth. "And what then if I can get him outside?"

"Then," Erik replied, his voice a harsh whisper. "We drag him back to camp, and do what we like with him. How does that sound?"

The sound of it made Mina want to shove the poison down his throat so that those wicked intentions would forever remain just thoughts. But she knew she couldn't. She couldn't protect Magnus from herself and the monster she had helped create. She couldn't turn back now.

"You'll get your prince," she spat. "I'll make sure of it."

~*~*~*~

The horses were particularly uneasy that night, stamping their hooves and flinching at every little noise.

"Shh," Micah hushed, stroking Onix's dark coat. "What's bothering you, girl?"

Onix left out a puff of air and tossed her head. Micah continued to brush her but slowed when he heard a familiar giggle—the same sweet and charming one that never failed to get him to blush. An involuntary smile pulled at his lips.

"What's she doing out here so late?" Micah mumbled to himself. He patted the side of Onix's neck. "I'll be right back."

Hoisting himself over the stable door, Micah scurried in the direction where he had heard the laughter. Had she come to visit him?

"Ive, what—"

His voice caught in his throat when he realized Ivy wasn't alone. He caught the glint of armor in the moonlight and the rough scratch of Jameson's voice. Stumbling over his own feet, he clumsily ducked behind a nearby toolshed, hoping no one heard him. The night air felt unusually cold against his skin.

"How'd a pretty thing like you end up scrubbing floors?" Jameson asked, playing with a lock of Ivy's hair.

"Oh, you know," she sighed dramatically. "It's hard to be a poor girl out here all alone."

"I could help you," Jameson offered, his voice dropping lower. "My family is quite wealthy despite not being nobility."

Ivy traced a finger along his jaw. "Would you make me yours?"

Micah didn't hear what Jameson said next, but part of him was glad he didn't. Ivy laughed again, the sound dripping with sweetness but with a new edge. Gritting his teeth and fighting the ache in his chest, Micah retreated back to the stables, trying to shut Ivy's voice from his mind. No, Sophie couldn't be right. She didn't know Ivy the way he did. Jameson was the one making advances on Ivy, not the other way around. She wasn't that kind of girl, was she? Should he have intervened? He glanced back but couldn't force his feet to move.

Later that night, he awoke to the sound of Onix and Razor bumping the sides of their stables. Squinting with groggy eyes, he barely managed to make out the shape of a figure in a dress, passing through like a ghost. He scrambled to his feet. The noise directed the figure's attention to him, and he was greeted by a porcelain smile.

"Micah."

Even his name on her tongue didn't sound the same. Ivy's hair was out of its braid, hanging in tangled curls down to her waist and her uniform was creased with wrinkles. 

"I apologize for waking you. And for looking like such a mess," she laughed.

Micah didn't smile. "I thought Jia makes sure you're all safely in the room at night."

"Oh, I'm on night duty," Ivy responded swiftly, closing the distance between the two of them. "Some of us stay out to attend to nobles and royals if ever they need anything."

Micah hesitated, his eyes cast downward. Ivy slipped two fingers under his chin, lifting his gaze to hers.

"Besides, I have a future knight to protect me, in case anything bad happens."

Her voice was like honey and her touch was soft and warm, but Micah couldn't help but shiver and recoil a little, something telling him to pull away.

"I don't know how much help I'd be to you," Micah murmured, turning his head away.

Ivy looked him over, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "No, why would you say that? You're the sweetest boy I've ever known."

Micah's jaw clenched. "Yeah, but—"

He felt her breath on his cheek and the next thing he knew, her lips were on his. He'd never kissed anyone, much less expected to have one now, and he stood there stiffly, not knowing what to do with himself and his body.

Ivy pulled away after a few moments, laughing at the blush that had overtaken his cheeks. "Believe me now?"

Micah stared at Ivy, breathless and unable to form words. Ivy kissed him again. And again. And for those short blissful moments, he forgot what he had seen earlier that night. Or rather, he convinced himself that he hadn't seen it. She was acting back there. This, what she had with him, was real.

Ivy pulled away, tucking her hands behind her back. "Pardon my boldness."

"I...I don't mind..." Micah stuttered, still in a daze.

Grinning like a cat, Ivy stepped away. "Good. Sleep well, dearest Micah. Dream of me."

"I will."

Ivy blew him one last kiss before hurrying off, her fingers clenched tightly around the stolen key ring to keep it silent.