~ Mia ~

The moment the ground beneath my feet became the soft grass of my gardens, I let out a fierce scream. Malcolm released me, opting to cover his ears as my lungs threatened to burst from the sheer force of my fury.

“Gods, Mia!” Malcolm bellowed, his eyes scrunched in pain as he leaned away from me. 

I merely screamed louder, crafting a rock from thin air and hurling it at his head. The fist-sized jagged stone sailed through the space between us until it made contact with his forehead, sending his body careening backwards and causing a shout of pain to tear up his throat. I silenced myself and stayed put long enough to watch red blood begin pouring from his new gash as he laid sprawled in the dirt with the afternoon sun beating down on him, then I stormed away.

Malcolm was fast though, quickly portaling to me and wrapping his hand around my throat. Blood oozed from his once-bronze skin, the almost sickly hue making his eyes seem more foreboding as they stared into my own. 

“This act of yours is getting old, darling Mia. You hit me. I threaten you. We fuck until we can barely breathe. Perhaps we need to find you a healthier coping mechanism.” His whispered words caressed my lips as he leaned in, his free hand going to my blood-soaked waist. 

Perhaps he needed a reminder of why no male would ever match my strength—would ever be good enough to truly hold my heart like he wished.

I called upon my power, begging the world around me to do my bidding. The only time I would ever beg. With the rage of a thousand suns, of a million lifetimes, of a billion shattered hearts, I shoved my palm into Malcolm’s chest. His body flew backwards, a great rumble shaking the ground beneath my feet. And then, with perfect timing, the grass and flowers and dirt sunk into itself. Malcolm’s body landed in the newly formed hole, and without a second thought, I willed my garden to reconnect, unfazed by his screams as he was buried alive. 

A guard’s black armor caught my attention as she sucked in a breath of surprise. I turned, facing her with my best queenly stare—not that my bloody dress and disheveled appearance screamed royalty. She quickly bowed, leaning so far forward that I worried her armor would force gravity to pull her down. 

“Get someone to help you dig that male out. Once he is free, you are all to leave him be. He is a guest here, sadly.” 

Her nod was sharp as she straightened up and ran to get help, the sound of her clanking, oversized armor slowly fading.

Hopefully he would not die.

Making my way into my beautiful palace, I hoped that no one would stop me to speak. Xavier was supposed to be in a council meeting, and we were due to have our quarterly audience with the wardens in three days’ time, which meant that everyone would be hard at work. If I could simply slip into my chambers, then I could be free of the exhausting presence of others and just let myself break. I could feel that weakness festering inside of me, the undeniable need to shatter calling to me like the sun willing a rose to bloom. Then I could become an eclipse, hiding the scorching star and once more casting shadows upon my heart.

Startlingly enough, my mother came to my mind as I rounded the final corner, the curved golden doors at the end of the hallway a welcoming sight despite the flash of tangerine locks within my head. Her pride at having a daughter, just as every Mounbetton for generations before her had, was even more rewarding than any form of love could have been. She taught me that males were dim, unreliable, and pathetic. I was never to love, especially not a male. I would marry for the sake of having a cock on the throne to appease the masses, but it would be I who ruled—I who conquered.

Yet I had just bore witness to Asher doing everything I had always been taught not to do. She chose a male over me. Not just any male either, but the very male that sullied my family line. The first male Mounbetton to be born in the last ten millennia. A stain. A weed in my beautiful garden. One that I had gotten so lucky as to replace with my Asher—my flower—only to have her ruin it.

“Mia!” I heard Xavier’s voice ring out just as my trembling fingers touched the gilded handle of one of my chamber doors. A growl tore its way up my throat, an inner nearly animalistic part of me breaking free from the confines that were the expectations of a Mounbetton queen.

If I kill him, I will be forced to find another and retrain that one.

With that thought on my mind, I took a heavy breath and turned towards my husband. Xavier walked up to me wearing golden silk from head-to-toe, his form-fitting button-up shirt clinging to every muscle. All of his black waves were pulled back in a twist at the nape of his neck, his pale skin and dark eyes making him appear fierce. Or perhaps that was the look of rage upon his face as his gaze took in my disheveled appearance.

“Where is Ash?” Panic bled through his voice like an open wound, that heart of his once more getting in the way of his usefulness. Just as it always did. He was not formidable. He was weak.

“Obviously not here,” I hissed, ripping open my chamber door and walking through it. Though he knew he was not allowed to enter, Xavier still barreled through the doorway, his loud stomps against my beautiful gold marble making my teeth grind. Oh, how I hated him, how I loathed all of his filthy kind. Each male was more insufferable than the last, and I desperately wished that I could simply rid the world of them all.

“You did not get her? Is she harmed? Where is she now?” His questions shot my way like a whip, and I had the distinct memory of watching him snap leather upon Asher’s skin for the first time. Of the way he gagged and cried. How he begged me afterwards to never make him do it again. As if my father had not whipped me, just as my grandfather had whipped my mother. The males did the hard things so the females would remain close, united, strong. 

“No, I did not get her, you idiot! She is still with Baron,” I seethed, kicking off my heels and shedding my blood-stained dress. The gold pooled at my feet, and I wondered, not for the first time, if the solution was to simply make another heir. But Asher was special. She was everything I could have dreamed of in a daughter, and I wanted her back.

Xavier’s stuttered reply was soft, just as he was. “Has he harmed her? Is she being held captive?” Eternity save me from this idiot.

My body spun around so fast that I nearly lost my sense of gravity, but a lifetime of training steadied me as I faced off with the imbecile I called husband. 

“No, stupid male, she is willingly staying with him! She had the audacity to attempt harm upon me, as if I was not practically her mother!” 

His gaze went wide as I shouted the truths that threatened to bring me to my knees. I watched in disgust when his mouth opened and closed, that stupid dimple of his popping out as he grimaced at the glare I leveled him with. After another few beats of silence, he spoke. “Perhaps the solution is to welcome Baron home. We once planned to marry them, so let us do that. He is our son after all. We would be immeasurably stronger with both at our sides. Taking down the demons might be far simpler that—”

Another scream of outrage clawed up my throat like an unleashed predator, and I could not stop myself from crafting vines that shot towards Xavier. They wrapped around him, tightening slowly before he shouted and burned them away—oh, how I hated fire. We stared at one another, each angry for far different reasons, though we both, above all else, wanted our Asher back. That was the one thing that I could never fault him for. He knew just as I did that she was exceptional—remarkable. But the rest?

“Get. Out.” With that, I turned towards my bathing chamber, giving him my naked back in a show of defiance. Of disrespect.

“I cannot lose another, Mia.” His plea was met with silence, as I would not even deign to acknowledge that Baron was some sort of loss. It was a blessing that he was taken.

“Out!” I screamed, slamming the golden door behind me. And then, with all the grace of a mere peasant, I got into my empty tub and broke down in sobs. Pulling my knees to my chest, I allowed the sorrow to eat me alive. I pictured Asher’s face as she stared at me like I was the villain of her story. Like I was not cultivating a world good enough for her—for us. Everything I did was to hone her into what she needed to be.

Did I keep her weak for my own benefit? Of course. But I would have trained her one day, perhaps when she took the throne and I finally rid myself of Xavier. She was never meant to hate me. She was mine.

And now, as my chest heaved and my eyes burned and my cries echoed throughout the chamber, I realized that I could not live without her.

My daughter.

Around me, the many scarlet roses that lined the walls began to wilt.