The night after the ball, Malcolm did not allow himself to rest. There was much to be written and done, as evidenced by the stacks of papers he was carrying in his hands. He had woken up early and did not have a proper breakfast - only an apple, and was focused on nothing more than rushing to the study.

As he had just woken up, with very little sleep the night before, he was yawning, and his vision was blurry. It caused him to bump into the door of the study, after which he got a better view of what was in front of him. A moment later, he heard someone walking in there, certain that he was not imagining it. Reluctantly, he opened the door, wondering what he would see in there.

And he had quite something to see. Melinda was there, and she was doing something strange, even for her. She was kneeling, and when he came closer to her, he noticed a broad smile on her face and a little dark red box in her hands. His eyes filled with sorrow, hoping that she was not doing what he thought she was doing, although he did not know what else she could have been doing.

"Melinda, what is this?", he stammered.

"I have devised a brilliant idea," she said dreamily. "If Maguire leaves me for his true love, then I will reciprocate the favour. I am sure my citizens will understand if given a proper explanation."

He blinked twice. "Am I hearing everything the right way?"

She laughed, sounding like a songbird. "Yes, you are, my dear Malcolm. How could I refuse the opportunity to make our love eternal? If we were to marry, I would become the happiest woman in the world, because just having you by my side brings me serenity. Also, I am aware that this feeling must be inside you as well, despite all the issues we have. Everything we are going through will be easier together."

He swallowed. "This marriage could never last."

Melinda tried to think of an argument, to tell him that it would be alright, but for a while, nothing came out of her mouth, and her heart dropped. It was not as if she suddenly lost faith, it was merely the problems she had put a carpet over resurfacing. She could not give her everything to him, and in the past few months, it seemed as though Malcolm had something to hide as well.

"Do you agree that this proposal was useless?" he asked, staring blankly at her.

"No. Why would it be?"

He scratched his neck. "Well, how long have we known each other? I mean, I have been in love with you for a long time, but only from afar. You have fallen for me rather recently, so much so that not even two years have passed, and it occurred mere weeks after Jeffrey died."

She crossed her arms. "I may have fallen for you quickly, and I know that it is unhealthy, yet what does that change? These past five months were not the best, yet I refuse to give up. I consider myself blessed with having so much passionate love inside my heart, finding it easier to face all the obstacles in front of me. Is that to be judged, or to be appreciated?"

He bent his head. "I am sorry if I sounded like a moral arbiter. It is not my place to do so."

"Your concerns are valid, but in a world like this, morality is something you should not concern yourself with at all," she said, putting her hand on his heart.

He shrugged. "Perhaps you are in the right."

"So, are you accepting my proposal or not?" she chirped.

Those words burned through his heart like heated coal. Even as his mind wandered into a daydream, wherein the spring blossomed at its fullest, butterflies danced and birds sang in the sky without a care in the world, the air was filled with the scent of chamomile tea, and the rays of the sun illuminated the lovely woman as she smiled at him most pleasantly, he could not ignore the rumble of the thunder in the distance. Thus she gave him a blank stare while he was shivering as though severe cold winds blew inside.

"There are many years ahead of us, which is more than enough time to do anything, let alone marry," he said so that she would not consider his behaviour peculiar.

She smiled with a nod. "I am glad that you still have at least some hope when it comes to our future. If I have to wait a little for our union, I will do it. Things like these ought not to be done in a rush, after all."

After she spoke those words, the two of them left the room, her smile not fading, nor his frown.

Later that day, she went to her garden with an overcoat and a pair of black boots on, having seen the relentless falling of the snow from the windows near her. The smile on her face widened, her heart brimming with excitement since the day was so ethereal.

While she was walking through the snow, her eyes did not halt gazing at the snowflakes once, utterly mesmerised by the slow and elegant descent of those objects that reminded her of pearls. She stretched out her right hand to sense their presence, which comforted her skin. A moment later, she took a step forward, then one to the side, and then made her feet conjoin, dancing like she was in the ballroom again, hearing the melody of the violins in her brain, and she did it for a long time, believing that nothing could disturb her.

Her waltz was interrupted by arrows that shot through her back from a bush behind her. Gasping for air, she clutched her stomach in an attempt to maintain balance, her body growing weaker with every passing second. Still, she dropped to the ground, her back unable to withstand the arrows in it. While her vision was darkening, her blood boiled with a desire for revenge, and she swore to unleash it upon the one who did this to her. After a few desperate seconds of fighting against it, she closed her eyes and carried over to the void.

Had it not been for her immortality, it would have been the end of her, which she knew very well. The wounds she had were grave, reddening the snow around her to a disturbing degree, almost killing her unborn child, but she was able to heal them with a spell she learned not long ago. What she could not nullify was the coldness that affected her during her state of unconsciousness, causing her to shiver like never before. Anger still seething inside her, she went to the royal court.

The room was full of people who were chattering among themselves in peace. She recognised Susanne, Sofia, Robert, Theresa, Jane, and Malcolm, as well as Wentworth, the other persons being those she hardly ever talked to, if at all. Even though doing so was not convenient, she marched over to Wentworth with furrowed eyebrows, startling him and making the heads of all those who were in their vicinity turn.

"Archibald, explain to me what it is that you meant to do," she said through gritted teeth, and his eyes widened as he observed her body.

He was more than a bit surprised that she did not die from blood loss, for the arrows in her dress were many, and judging from the shuddering she was doing, the wounds they created made her pass out for several hours. He was deep in thought, wondering who could have done this and why, not knowing what Melinda had done to deserve this.

"Before we start, I am sorry about your child," he spoke once he woke up from his thoughts.

"Oh, my child?" she told him, bursting into ironic laughter. "My magic was able to save it, which you did not seem to care about when you committed your crime!"

"Why do you think that I committed the crime?" he asked while adjusting his glasses.

Scowling, Melinda placed two fingers on her chin. "Is it not obvious? From what Douglas told me about you and from what I already knew, you are heavily against the monarchy. Your previous plans may have been futile, but what matters is that they existed and that they are clearly not over. I will not let you get away with them."

"Absolute monarchies, emphasis on absolute," he said in an attempt to change the topic. "I do not think it exactly fair for a ruler to have that much authority, but do not have worries. I have studied the lives of many of them, and considering the number of those who went mad with power, those who happened to be manipulated or those who were just plain incompetent, you are the best one I ever got to know. There is not a smudge on your record, and that should be congratulated, as it is not easy to do, especially in circumstances like these."

She snorted. "As you can see, it has not been too congratulated so far. And do not even try to escape from what you did. With time, justice is served to everyone, and every wicked deed brings punishment. It cannot be changed, no matter what one does."

"I understand," he said sternly. "But if you have done nothing to warrant it, why would anyone want to end your life?"

She had to tell yet another lie, one among many. Telling lies had become a little easier for her ever since her reign started, but coming up with believable ones was getting harder and harder since the web she was weaving was already intricate, and a single misstep could doom her. She stared at the wall in front of her as she was thinking about what to say, only waking up from her thoughts when Wentworth choked on thin air.

"I do not truly know why," she said, her voice bereft of emotion. "However, I have a theory. When you are as worshipped as I am, you are bound to also have a lot of enemies. Whether they are Maria's agents or nothing more than those who do not believe in me, they take up a number of my citizens, and some of them must be inside this very palace. Propaganda and general misinformation are crucial parts of history, after all."

Wentworth frowned. "Does this mean that you consider me deceived, my queen?"

"Of course, I do," she said with a deep sigh. "But, however unfortunate it may be, your fate stops here."

"Wait!" Malcolm shouted, making his way towards her. "I know he could not have done it. He went nowhere near you today, which I can testify to. We have just finished a friendly conversation, so I beg you, do not execute him. I will do whatever it takes to prove his innocence."

Wentworth turned his head towards him, as this was obviously a lie. Although he and Malcolm were indeed friends, they did not talk to each other at all that day. Now, he was way more confused than merely seconds before, but there was no time to ponder such useless things. He had to play along.

"Yes, of course, we talked for hours," he said after turning to face Melinda. "The topic was modern history and how it connects to our lives, relating to the book that Theresa Ratchet published this year. Have you ever read any of her works?"

Melinda snorted at his assumption that she would be fooled so easily. There was much wrong information in that little number of sentences, and not only that, but she was also not a person to be swayed by small talk when there were things to be done, particularly things like these, and if Wentworth were not to die the death of a traitor shortly, people could start taking her less seriously. Of course, she had no definite proof that he performed the ambush, but she had concluded it from her guesswork, which could in no way be wrong.

"Malcolm was carrying a heap of papers when he came to me, which means he has been very busy for the last few hours. Also, I know that the book you are talking about is 'Memories of a Faded Man', but you got the year wrong. It was published in 1850, which means it happened two whole years ago, Mister Wentworth. Now that I have proven that you are a liar, I must execute you."

The situation looked inescapable, but at that moment, hope lay still. Just as Melinda was about to call upon her guards, she dropped onto the ground, her body too feeble to hold her any longer. As her teeth were rattling and her face became red from the fury she was feeling, she was escorted to her room.

"The execution may have been postponed, Wentworth, but do not fear. You will be put to death soon," she said, glaring at him.

For the next week, she lay in bed, frowning at the ceiling all day due to the overwhelming solitude in her heart. It felt like she was a tree that had no one to water it, withering with every agonising moment it had to endure, dying of thirst and fearing what would come after. Her hands had come to resemble the shrivelled branches of such trees, ones that could crack under the smallest of pressures, and the coldness within her was like the harsh wind that blew at them, leading them astray forever. She was incapable of walking out of that cycle of self-pity, good for nothing, which was reflected in her inactivity and silence, messy hair, irremovable scowl, and darker circles under her eyes than before. Never before did she look this pathetic. She had to get it over with at no time.

With the start of her second week in bed, an opportunity like that arose. Hours after waking up, she heard voices coming from the study. She failed to recognise one of them, but she knew that the other was Malcolm's, despite not hearing him clearly. It took her several minutes to remove the blanket and lightly fall on the floor. Well aware that she could not crawl over there, she got up the fastest she could, listening to the nearby voices with the utmost attention. Her steps could barely be heard, and her shivering was not that noticeable, so neither of the speakers realised that she was there, leaning against the door, listening to everything they were saying.

"What are you proposing, Alexander?" Malcolm gasped.

Melinda's eyes widened at hearing that name. The morning after they had slept together, Malcolm referred to a mysterious political opponent of hers by this name, and there was not another man with such a name that he knew, or else he would have told her about him. Tense at the thought of what he could be doing there, she kept listening.

"I propose that you kill her at once, without looking back," Alexander responded, his voice sounding as though he were talking about the most mundane thing ever.

"But love is the strongest force there has ever been. It would be cruel of you to expect me to do that," Malcolm said, his voice trembling.

Alexander snorted. "Love? Why are you still thinking of love? We have to save lives, Malcolm! If we do not succeed at stopping her right here and now, she might become even more dangerous and bloodthirsty. There is no time to consider the matters of the heart."

"It is not the kind of job I do. I am only here to advise," Malcolm mumbled.

"You are the one who needs to be advised," Alexander whispered to himself.

"Alexander, did you say something?" Malcolm asked a few seconds later.

Alexander groaned. "It is nothing. Forget about it."

"Not long ago, I came up with a plan," Malcolm said, his voice lively. "The Queen's heart softens whenever she is by my side, and it is merely due to current circumstances that darkness overtook her soul. I am the advisor she has trust in and always talks to when something bothers her, so, with time and patience, however slowly it might take, I will help her return to the right path. There is a chance, for she proposed to me this morning."

Alexander choked. "That woman proposed to you?! I cannot believe how vengeful she is. What did you say?"

"I postponed it-"

"Incredible. You did something marginally smart," Alexander cheered. "Let her hang onto that false hope and then allow her to fall into the void she belongs to."

Malcolm coughed. "Did you hear what I said about redemption?"

"I thought you were joking for a moment, which I should not have expected from you out of all people," Alexander told him with a deep sigh.

If Melinda did not know any better, she too would have thought that. The idea of redemption, especially after all the horrible things she had done, almost made her want to laugh. Naturally, she did not, afraid both of getting caught and insulting the one she loved. Having no idea how the conversation would end, her heart burning inside her chest, she kept listening.

Alexander took a sharp breath. "So, Malcolm, what have you decided?"

"I have decided not to do the task. There must be someone else who will do it for me."

"Maria helped you almost kill her the first time," Alexander reassured him. "I am sure that you will be able to do it the next time."

"Fine. I will do it," Malcolm said with newfound determination.

Melinda bit her tongue to prevent herself from gasping. There was no way he was pretending, she knew it, thus all her worst nightmares had been realised. Her heart was suffocating her, and she held back tears, not finding him valuable enough to cry over. She was disappointed in herself for dating such a weakling. Before, when she loved him, his stupidly mild will used to be a cute little flaw to her, and although she still loved him to an extent, she could do nothing kinder than pity him. She was also disappointed in herself for being so enthralled with him to be unable to see or prevent the plans she did not know. Her head starting to hurt from all the negativity within, she went away upon noticing that he and his colleague were about to get out of the room.

Somewhen in the afternoon, she went out for a walk. Her mind had become blacker than ink, and she could not rule like that. She opened a window a bit before she walked out of her bedroom with changed attire, and as the wind was blowing, it would certainly make her head colder. Many grey, heavy clouds engulfed the sky, threatening her with rain, but she stared at them with fascination for a while, finding them slightly beautiful, especially because they looked well with the golden light that shone out from the gaps between them. Perhaps she too could find that kind of light.

If she were to find it, though, one thing had to be done. Paranoia flowed through her brain every time she thought of Malcolm and what he said in the study, and when she saw him standing at top of the stairwell, she gave him a blank gaze, waiting for him to attempt to assassinate her again. Mayhaps he had found out about her immortality as well. At this point, it could not surprise her, because nothing could.

The instant he noticed her, he beamed at her. "Hello, my love. How are you-"

She had been too impatient to wait for him to finish the sentence, pushing him down the staircase immediately. He screamed her name multiple times while heading towards his downfall, which felt even more arduous than he thought it would be thanks to the stairway being rather steep and tall. His body hit the walls repeatedly, which eventually left him without any strength and air, until he had reached the last few steps, when it tumbled to the ground, making no sound after the fall was over.

She gave his corpse a piercing stare from meters beyond, not needing to touch it to ensure he stopped breathing for all eternity. Touching him with her gloves was more than enough. Unblinking, she did not break the silence, dropping onto her knees. To her, it resembled exploring the abyss, finding something breathtakingly horrid at every corner, but she did not cry, like she herself had learnt by heart every facet of the aforementioned abyss, and become numb to it. For a brief moment, she took a look at the window, seeing her younger self smiling brightly at her. The moment after, the false reflection withered quietly, leaving nothing in place of it. After that, she turned around and began heading towards the study until she suddenly noticed that Alexander was watching her.

"Hey, you!" she yelled as she marched over to him. "Who do you think you are?!"

"My name is Alexander Hill," he stated plainly, shaking her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I know that already, and you knew that perfectly well. I have no time for jokes. Tell me what your intentions are or else."

"Or else what?" he said defiantly.

She stared right into his soul. "Or else I am sending you away to a concentration camp like I did to Agatha Maxwell, who had a child with one of Maria's spies. I used to love and trust her, but this betrayal disgusts me to my core. If only I could show the scum who impregnated her what's wha- Wait a minute..."

He tensed the moment he saw her notice his worried glance.

"It's you," she hissed, proceeding to strangle him as her mind went red. "You slept with my friend! I hate you! You ruined everything! You had better leave this country as soon as possible, or else it won't be pretty."

"Fine," he spat as she released him from her deathly grip. "I will do it. Remember one thing, though. You cannot blame me for this. After all, it's you who enslaves and murders all of your loved ones. Just a thought. Farewell, Madam Bellerose, and I sincerely hope that you won't live to wake up tomorrow."

As he carefully circled Malcolm's bleeding corpse while walking away, Melinda was left alone in the hallway to contemplate her wretched, miserable existence, doing so until nightfall.