I look up from the papers littering my desk to the stained glass window a few feet above me. I used to sit under my mother’s chair and watch the light bouncing around up there for hours, but since I became queen I have no time for such luxury.

“Myra, please, listen to me,” Ryn begs. “You’re signing your own death warrant. Please, we can figure something out...”

“There’s no time,” I snap. I know this is the right decision, and Ryn knows this is the right decision, and WHY CAN’T HE AGREE WITH ME ON THIS.

Ryn shakes his head, his shaggy copper hair swirling around his eyes.

“There’s got to be a better way. They’ll... they’ll kill you when they find out,” he whispers, his green eyes clouding with worry.

“I can’t pretend anymore,” I say. “The mages are being hunted and slaughtered, while I sit safe here? No, Ryn. That’s not the queen I want to be.”

He runs his hand through his hair.

“What about our child?” He points to my torso. “Shouldn’t they have the chance to have a mother? Hell, a chance to be born?”

“If our child is a mage, shouldn’t they have a chance to be trained?” I snap back. “Trust me, Ryn, if the people see their queen is a mage, they’ll finally realize that the mages aren’t evil!”

He shakes his head. “Myra-“

“No. I’m announcing this, wether you like it or not.”

Ryn lets out a frustrated breath and stalks away. I sigh. Ryn is a worrier, and I knew that when I met him. It’s one of the things I love about him.

I turn away to the bookshelves. My father used to read to me here, while my mother worked in her ‘important grownup papers’. I respect her and I’m glad she gave me life, but I will love my child with all the passion she never gave me.

I’ll teach my child not to fear the mages too. I lift my hand, the magic coursing through my veins, crackling across the surface of my skin.

The mages were once the rulers of this land. They grew crops and kept the peace with their magic. No one could have asked for a better leader. Until, of course, someone wanted the magic for themselves. Jent Wilkor was the leader of the Purifiers, a group of humans who desperately wanted magic. They tortured the mages in unimaginable ways, just to see what the magic would do. They learned that if they killed a mage and drank his or her blood, they created...a sort of backwards magic. It poisoned the soul of anyone it touched and you were dead within a year. But that’s a long time to do a lot of damage.

I sigh and turn back to my desk. But before I go far, a hand shoved me back against the bookshelf.

No no no no no no not now this isn’t happening....

The assassin breathes deeply. I shudder. He laughs, deep and rough.

“My queen...” He sniffs again, like he can taste my magic.

I scream as loud as I can, but the sound only echoes. No response.

“No one‘a coming, your majesty,” he whispers. “It’s just me and you.”

The knife enters my body smoothly. It tears white-hit streaks of pain across my vision and I see blue and white and I see my mother and my father and I see my child and how she’ll never have a chance to grow up and all the good I could have done but know I’m going and the light coming in the window is too bright it hurts.....

The last thing I hear is the assassin’s gravelly voice, grating my ear and making me want to stand up and fight but I can’t breathe through blood the taste of it is everywhere...

“Long live the queen.”