by Sara Ella
No response.
“And stop being so loud.” I snatch a folder from her hand. “Preacher’s probably alerted the entire castle we’re missing by now. He’ll have Guardians searching every nook and cranny faster than we can say Dewesti Province.” She’s wasting my time. This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out operation. Leave it to Ebony to fudge up everything.
With the fakest yawn I’ve ever seen, she removes another folder from the cabinet. “(A) What I’m looking for is none of your concern, and (B) if you’re so worried about getting caught, you can leave. You forget I can transform—”
The doorknob rattles.
Double crud.
Ebony and I exchange a glance. Despite her confidence in her Shield ability, there’s no mistaking the dread whitewashing her face. She doesn’t want to get caught any more than I do.
Ha. For once I have the advantage. Sayonara, sister.
Think. The bay window on the room’s other end is where I came in and is my obvious exit. My gut tells me my next mirror walk may be my last for a while. Maybe I shouldn’t go too far, just to be safe. Then again, what do I care if Preacher finds me? I’m the one in charge. What’s he going to do? Tell the queen on me?
Yeah, I’m saving my next trip for something important. I’ll deal with Preacher and whatever other Guardians come through that door. Ebony’s the one who should be nervous, not me.
I came here for a reason and I won’t run before I find what I seek.
Volumes of The Reflection Chronicles span the shelves of Joshua’s bookcase, along with some of his favorite classics from his trome at the Haven. I run my fingers along the textured spines. Some bound in oily leather, others coarse and tied with twine. His collection is incomplete, only containing what was recovered after Jasyn’s defeat. I wish I had time to read and study them all. Maybe I will, but for now I only need one.
I scour for the single volume I’ve heard of besides Mom’s. I’ve no idea if Dimitri Gérard’s account exists among those recovered, but I have to look. He’s the one who discovered the Kiss of Infinity—or he was the first to write about it, at least. How could I forget? Why didn’t I think to look for it when I started my research?
And there it is. I remove the eighth account of The Reflection Chronicles from the shelf and fan the pages. Nothing beats that old-book, been-on-a-shelf-for-years smell. The yellowed pages are covered in elegant calligraphic writing. Each entry is titled and dated. Stuff on the Kisses of Infinity and Accord. A chapter on mirrorglass. A map of the Fourth Reflection, and . . .
Holy Verity, yes! This is what I’ve spent the past two months searching for. It’s been here all the—
The door handle rattles again.
Someone in the hall lets out a muffled shout.
I don’t even waste a glance in that direction. Instead I pop a squat on the floor, criss-cross-applesauce my legs, and begin to read.
Inference of Time by Dimitri Gérard
Hmm. He already sounds like a professor. Must be a Scrib.
Eleventh Day, Fifth Month, Eighth Year of Count VonKemp
Count VonKemp? Not king? I make a mental note to inquire which Reflection is ruled by a count or countess rather than a king or queen.
Time is, indeed, a strange and wondrous thing. It has no beginning or end, it seems. Time goes on, forward and backward, this way and that. But perspective is an illusion, for we know all things begin somewhere . . .
Yes, yes, they do. At last I’m getting some substance.
Someone’s pounding on the door now. It trembles on its hinges.
Whatever. I lower my head and read on.
. . . the humble fact that we are mere mortals does not conclude time is endless. On the contrary, this trivial detail but implies we are merely less than time. Because it goes on without us, and was present before us, we somehow fool ourselves into believing time is equal to infinity. This is simply not the case . . .
Ebony is pacing the room now. Except she’s not Ebony. She’s made a switch into some generic female Guardian or other with red hair, a tight bun, and pursed lips. I’ve seen the woman before, but her name eludes me. Doesn’t matter though. Ebony’s clothes remain the same. She’s not fooling anyone.
I snort before turning the page.
. . . which is why I hold the theory: If time has a beginning and an end, somewhere it meets itself. It is a loop, as all life is. From dust we came and to dust we return. Time is a circle. The beginning is the end, and the end is the beginning . . .
“Okay, you win.” The journal slides through my hands as my thief of a sister confiscates it. “Give it back,” I say in the weakest whisper-voice ever.
“Who’s gonna make me? You?” Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “Please, you’re losing your touch, sis. This mission you’re on to find out what’s happening to the Callings and the Thresholds? You can’t go it alone, especially when your own ability is amateur at best. You need help.” She tucks the journal under one arm. “Lucky for you I’m feeling generous.”
She doesn’t know what else I want—to find the Void’s origin and destroy it for good. If I told her, she’d think I’m insane. But the problem at hand takes precedence. First I need to stop and reverse the downward spiral of Calling loss–slash–Threshold drainage. Then I can work on ending the Void.
But Ebony? Generous? No way. Not buying it. “You need help too. Don’t you?”
She curls her lip and makes an “as if” sort of noise.
Oh yeah. She needs me. But why? I stand and we begin the stare-down. The commotion in the hall is impossible to ignore at this point.
“Let’s just go. Please.” She flips a glance over her shoulder. Back at me. Her expression is in full panic mode now, eyes wide, hands shaking.
“Why do you need to get out of here so badly?”
Glare time. What else would I expect? “I don’t.”
I shrug. “Have it your way.” I move to sit back down.
Ebony grabs my shoulders. “I can help you.”
Nice try.
“I can show you how to hone your Calling.”
I blank my face. “My Calling is dying.” I don’t have to say it. My nearly nonexistent voice gives it away.
“Only because you’re letting it. A Calling has to be mastered like any other talent. You can’t just expect using it to be a breeze. Yes, something is wrong. No, the Verity isn’t doing its job. But I can still transform. I have to work harder now, but I’m able to change. I can help you change too.” She eyes me. “I’m betting you haven’t discovered the Mask within yet?”
My pride shrinks. Why am I so easy to read? And how does she know so much about Mirrors?
“Do we have a deal? You get me out of the Second and I’ll help you strengthen your Calling.”
I consider her for all of half a second. Then I nod.
Ebony returns the journal then flings her arm toward me.
I take her hand in my free one, grasp it loosely.
“I promise to help you sharpen your Calling,” she says.
I swallow, say the words I know are required. “I bind you to your vow.”
She leans down and places a kiss on the heel of my palm. “By a kiss I am bound.”
When she straightens I free a breath. My turn. “I promise to take you from the Second.”
“I bind you to your vow.” Her eyes twinkle.
I press my lips to her palm.
My stomach churns.
No turning back now. “By a kiss I am bound.”
EIGHTEEN
Joshua
I lean closer to the griffin’s back, clutching her feathers and keeping my head down against the frigid altitude. I’m forced to close my eyes to shield them from the wind’s whipping. Wren’s shoulder blades roll and I readjust, my thighs and knees digging into her sides. The ride is jerky and takes longer than necessary due to the weakening Callings. Fear grips me. If she loses her ability midair, we’ll both be dead in the water.
She soar
s lower and my thoughts venture to another chilly evening winter last. One El and I spent together before normal was no longer a word in our vocabulary.
“Are you sure this isn’t too expensive?” She kept her face shadowed behind a curtain of dark hair. I never understood her reasoning. Why would someone so lovely want to hide?
We passed beneath the red awning at Sardi’s. I opened the glass door and we approached the restaurant podium. The gaunt hostess raised a brow, as if expecting we’d be ill prepared. But I knew better. “Reservation for two under David, please.”
The woman considered us over her pointed, and most certainly false, nose. I stared her down, unblinking, and stood an inch taller. El and I may not have been her typical guests, but I’d been planning the dinner for weeks. I knew a winter formal wasn’t El’s scene, especially considering she hated high school to begin with. When Elizabeth requested I escort her, I’d agreed, but I never carried any intention of actually attending the stuffy event.
El and I had been friends for over two years. Though I felt more for her than she realized, I couldn’t tell her. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t treat her like the princess she was. She deserved everything and more, and I wanted to give that to her, even if she and I could never be what I desired. She’d been talking about eating at Sardi’s since I could remember. I was sure she’d enjoy this much more than a dance.
“Ah yes,” the hostess said. “Here you are.” She invited us onward with a pointy, traffic-cone orange fingernail.
I offered my arm to El and she hesitated only a moment before linking hers lightly through mine. My pulse raced from her nearness. It took all the willpower I had spent years perfecting not to hold her and kiss her the way I ached to.
We were seated at a table for two in the center of the room. I withdrew her chair and she sat awkwardly, tucking her hair behind one ear and then, as if realizing she didn’t intend to emerge from her shell, letting it fall back in her face.
The hostess set menus before us and took her leave.
I rested my elbows on the table, interlinking my fingers and watching El, waiting for the change to occur. It generally took a moment but always transpired, like a butterfly breaking from a chrysalis. I didn’t want to miss this. The day was drawing near when nothing would remain the same. She’d be eighteen by year’s end. I intended to relish every last ordinary moment we had together.
When she peeked beneath her lashes, I smirked and leaned forward. Her head lifted as if in slow motion, followed by a widening of her eyes. She took in the room corner by corner and wall by wall. Portraits of Third Reflection celebrities hung everywhere, and the light on El’s face let on she spotted a star or two sitting at nearby tables.
I smiled and shook my head. She was the sweetest thing I had ever laid eyes on. Even without our soul bond I would have found her attractive. How could I not? That face. Those eyes. Her voice. She was unlike any girl I’d met. Soft and fragile, feisty but insecure. So different from me, mysterious in ways others were not—
I bite back the notion, blinking and bracing as Wren evades Pireem Mountain. What I did prior to leaving for the Third those years ago was heartless, almost cruel. But it had to be done. I couldn’t have any romantic attachments, with Wren or El or otherwise. I was raised to be king, the vessel of the Verity. And with that came loneliness. The Void would enter the one I cared for most. By default, it was El, but if I truly allowed myself to love her, watching her take on such darkness would break my heart. And heartbreak would destroy me.
Of course now I have learned otherwise. According to Nathaniel the Void enters the one who cares most for the Verity’s vessel, not the other way around. Would that still have been El? Since Kyaphus entered the picture, things have grown complicated.
I gaze down at Wren, imagining her hard human face and even harder heart. She admitted she loved me before I left, but I had become well versed in the art of pretending not to care.
“I know you feel the same, David.” Wren is not a crier. The fuming expression in her blazing eyes more than made up for it though. “Tell me you don’t.”
My jaw tensed and I swallowed. I hated to hurt her. I cared. But my heart belonged to another, even if I hadn’t met her yet. “I don’t.”
It wasn’t like when I told El I didn’t love her. That was one of the most difficult lies I’ve ever been required to utter. With Wren it was painful, but not an untruth. She was beautiful, smart, and strong, but the emotion was not mutual.
When at last we land at the base of the castle hill, I turn my back as Wren transforms and redresses. I wait longer than is necessary, and when I pivot to offer my gratitude, she’s standing there, arms crossed, waiting.
“The dungeons?” she asks. The smirk stretching her lips stings.
“That will be all, Guardian Song.” I scratch the back of my head. “Thank you for your services.” I cross my heart with a fisted hand and add the Guardian mantra, “To the crown until death.”
Her head cocks and her lips part. It must be a half minute before she responds in turn. “To the crown until death.” Then she spins on her heel and marches away.
The trek up the hill toward the castle provides me much time to think. My Void arm throbs and I massage it up and down, rolling my shoulder and neck. What I’m about to do is necessary. There is no other way.
Yes, no other way.
I whip my head around. “Hello? Wren?” I didn’t realize I spoke aloud.
When no one replies and the eerie quiet is too much for my numbed ears, I finish my journey and head inside. The voice must have been my imagination, my own exhaustion playing tricks. Whatever it was, it was an illusion. Everything will be made right once I alter things.
Everything will be fine when El’s bond with my brother is severed for good.
NINETEEN
Longing
I whirl and examine Joshua’s study. The hall outside is calm, but that’s not saying much. Either someone has gone to find Joshua and the keys, or they’re planning to break down the door.
No time to waste.
If we’re leaving the Second we’ll need supplies. I move to the desk, set Dimitri’s book down, and rifle through the drawers. Their contents clatter as I open and shut, open and shut.
Ebony walks to the window. “Guardians are running around like mad down there. Preacher must be flipping out.”
“If you want to help, you can start by finding things we might be able to use.”
She meanders around, picking up a knickknack here, moving a chair an inch there. Some assistant. Was she this incompetent when she worked for my grandfather?
Once I’m finished with the desk, the only loot I’ve produced is a small pocketknife, a lighter, and a comb. I wish the medical wing were closer. It would’ve been useful to take first-aid supplies. With my Calling withering I’ve seen firsthand I won’t heal faster than normal, and medicines don’t wear off as quickly as they once did.
I pivot. Run fingers through my hair. My chestnut locks are longer than they’ve ever been, hanging past my shoulder blades now. I keep meaning to recolor my faded purple ends, but why bother? If my heart were truly loyal to the Verity, we wouldn’t be in this mess. The outward symbol means nothing if I’m black inside.
“Don’t talk like that.”
I feel someone touch my arm.
A smile surfaces.
Hi, Ky.
“We’ll fix this.”
I want to believe him. I wish with all my soul the voice I hear truly belongs to Ky. That it’s not some figment of my imagination. But how can I trust anything anymore? I thought life would be perfect after Jasyn’s defeat. Maybe it was all just a lie.
“The Verity chose you,” Ky says.
“The Verity made a mistake.” The words are out before I can stop them.
Ebony titters. “Talking to yourself again?”
I ignore her and continue exploring the office. When I’m beside the window I peer down. Ebony was right. Flashlight beams and
lantern rays bounce like scattered fireflies below. Guardians comb the area. Some even head down the hill, sinking from view.
Do they search for me because I’m important? Because they care? Or do they look because I’m a danger? Could it be I’ve been a prisoner since taking on the Verity? Trapped and babysat until they figure out what to do with me?
I’ve been so stupid. This is no different from before. Secrets and lies. Agendas. Why am I always the last to know anything?
A draft chills my ears. Shiver. Joshua’s green Guardian jacket hangs on a rack to one side of the window. I haven’t seen him wear it since taking on his duties as king. I run my fingers over one sleeve from shoulder to wrist. I miss this version of him. Simple. Joshua. Then again, which version is real? I’m still not sure I ever knew him. Perhaps I never will. Is this why I couldn’t give him a Kiss of Infinity? How can you love someone you don’t know?
Then again, I didn’t know Ky . . .
“You know me. You just don’t realize it yet.”
I lift the jacket off its hook, gather it in my fists, and touch the collar to my nose. The distinct scent of Joshua mingles with the musty smell of unworn clothing. I swing the jacket over my shoulders, slip my arms through the too-long-for-me sleeves.
The jacket’s weight mirrors the heaviness in my heart. My fingers slide into the pockets, and each hand wraps around an object. The right around something bulgy, crumpled. The left around what feels like the hilt of a knife. I withdraw the crumpled item, hold it up to the moonlight. An envelope? I flip it over in my hands. A name printed in quick scrawl glares at me, and immediately I know who it’s from.
For Ember
My heart plummets to the floor, and I sink beside it. Throat constricts. Jaw goes slack. Why does Joshua have a letter? For me? From Ky?
And why has it been opened?
I lift the flap and remove a folded sheet of paper, cutting my index finger in the process. Ouch. I wince, suck on my fingertip, and read.
Twenty-Sixth Day, Eleventh Month, First Day Apart
The day after Jasyn’s defeat. The day after the last time I saw Ky.