Though our coach was built for comfort, I could not relax.

Anger coursed through me tightening every muscle in my body.

The witch was my mother. I was like her. I was her daughter.

I would have given anything to be anywhere else at that moment. Instead, I was sitting in an elaborate gown crafted by the witch. She'd plucked three swans from the sky and made them into my dress. The skirt billowed and moved lightly. It looked as if I was flying when I walked. The silvery gleam of the creatures white feathers made my gown shimmer. The neckline swooped low, showing my ample curves. The witch had crafted a necklace of white gold and pearls that hugged my neck in front, and draped across my bare shoulders in back. The corset of the gown sat so low that it exposed more skin than I was used to. As was the style, white gloves adorned my hands and stretched up my arms. Instead of fabric draping off my shoulders, the witch used more silver and pearls, adding rows of soft, glistening gems. My hair that was so like hers in its golden color and thickness, she pinned up more elaborately than I'd ever worn. Braids, twists, and tucks made the most beautiful style I'd ever seen. It showcased the skin on my long slender neck, skin that hid the witch's blood that flowed through my veins beneath.

The witch snapped, Sit up straight. I complied and glared at her. Ella, this is your destiny as well as mine. If you make a mistake tonight we both die. I do not have enough power to overtake them. If they discover you, you are on your own until I can come for you.

If there's enough time, I added, staring at her.

Her voice was low and menacing as she leaned toward me in her fine green gown, What do you mean by that?

I glanced callously at her face. Blood is power, but you have no more. Royal blood fuels your dark magic. You wanted me to win his heart tonight, but that's not enough, is it? My voice had grown louder.

If there had been a real coachman, she would have scolded me. But there was a corpse driving the carriage, animated by the witch's magic. His fine clothes and the thick night shadows hid his rotting flesh, and the spell disguised the stench.

The witch smoothed her skirts. Of course it's not enough.

And the blood is necessary for both of us to survive. What do you think sustained you all these years? You have ingested blood from the heart as well. Witches need it to survive. And young witches that come of age are especially hungry. A witch in her seventeenth year could slaughter a small village and still not feel sated. That is why I am here tonight. That is why I will help you. She spoke sternly, scolding me. However, the only thing I heard was blood. She'd fed me blood from that heart, and I'd unknowingly swallowed it. I nearly wretched, but the woman said a spell, sealing my lips, and stilled my stomach.

Really, Ella. You do not grieve when I feed you the flesh of animals, but the blood of one boy sickens you. You're too soft. Too much like your Father. Thankfully witches are born, not bred. You will develop a taste for it over time. Tonight you won't have to do that part. I will kill the prince. That is why I came with you this year. When the prince chooses his princess, he will take her to the royal gardens first, at the eleventh hour and no later. During that time, I will do what must be done.

If everyone saw me walk to the garden with the prince and he died, they would think I did it. They would know what I was when they saw his heart carved out of his chest, just like his brother s. The carriage rattled as I stared at the witch. My mother.

She glanced at me, arching a perfect brow, speaking as if she could read my mind. You need not fear for your own safety, Ella. I have taken care of that, too. They will not discover you. You must trust me child, as I trust you. You could expose me before we even step through the door. People remember your father. They remember his death, and that no one was brought to justice. You could reveal his murderer.

I would not be so foolish, I replied and turned my head to look out the window. Trees towered above us, flying past as the coach sped toward the castle at an inhuman pace. The white horses that pulled us seemed to fly. It was almost as if their magical bodies were trying to ascend into the heavens, for they were made of nothing more than bones of mice and the rotting flesh of a mare. They were made from creatures that had been wakened from their eternal slumber by my mother's dark spells.

A smile twisted across the witch's ruby lips. Good. A cry for help will only destroy you. No one will help the daughter of a sorceress, no matter what you say. You'll thank me for this one day, Ella.

I doubt it, I said plainly. But the witches hand did not fly across my face. Her staff did not connect with my skull. We were too close to the palace for her to risk ruining my appearance.

Do not be so bold, girl, she growled. Not unless you can take what I plan for you later...