Unraveling

by Sara Ella

  “You’re a Mirror. You’re stronger than she is.” I hear him, clear as day, just like all the other times.

  Charley’s so close I can smell her stale dog-breath. She crouches. Growls.

  I have only seconds. No space to think or breathe. I look to Ky and something expands deep within.

  I’m a Mirror. Every Calling will manifest itself. I just have to draw it out.

  My center warms as if ignited. The Verity? I haven’t felt it since the coronation. The sensation of calm overcoming me now is like hearing a classical masterpiece for the first time. I latch onto it for fear its music will end. What brought it back to life?

  Ky’s face takes over my mind.

  No, not what. Who?

  At first I try to push Ky away, replace him with Joshua’s image. But when I do, the warmth grows cold. So I let Ky in. He shoves and presses, and I let him stay. Something in me releases and my feet lift off the ground. There’s the sensation of shrinking, like I’m folding in on myself. Throat constricts. Stomach tightens. My eyes snap open. The world has gone dark. I’m suffocating. A heaviness surrounds me and I heave, move, wiggle to break free of this black cage.

  And then I do. I feel so light, like for the first time I’m free of a weight that has been holding me back my entire life. I glance down. My clothes lie in a heap several feet below, and I have the sudden urge to cover myself. But then I see their faces. Streak’s broad grin, his shoulders shaking with a chuckle. Charley, returned to her human form, beaming. The rest of the crew’s expressions are sprinkled with mixtures of awe and shock, and some even look impressed. And Ky, trying to hide it but unable to withhold the slightest smirk for my sake. What are they all staring at?

  I’m moving farther and farther away, carried by my arms or the slight breeze in the ocean air, I can’t tell. It’s crisper here. Clearer. I’m over the water and my stomach drops, but my body remains airborne. And then I see it. My reflection. But I’m not me, not the me I’ve always known anyway. Instead I’m the Mask within, the one I didn’t truly believe existed until this moment.

  For eighteen years I’ve only ever felt like a caterpillar, trapped in this awkward, clumsy body with a hideous mark on my face. But now . . . now I see what I was meant to be all along.

  A butterfly.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Joshua

  The wish part of the tale was accurate, but the legend never mentioned anything about paying for it. Then again, nothing is ever free. Least of all a wish from the Fairy Queen, especially when her name is Isabeau Archer.

  “A deal with the Troll was necessary to secure what is required to detach Eliyana from your less-than-adequate brother.”

  My right eye twitches and I rub it, ignoring the voice that seems to speak from the shadows. A combination of problems could cause these hallucinations. I’m not getting enough sleep, or any for that matter, and I’m stressed. My Ever blood has gone mortal, weakening the natural strength I’ve always been accustomed to. I only recently learned I have a brother. Finally, the weight of the Reflections and Callings falls to me. A strange voice is simply a figment of my wearied mind.

  Or is it?

  I sit up, reach over, and tug on my boots. No use lying here if I’ll not be gaining rest. Standing, I survey my surroundings. Dai Island isn’t much to look at with its slick, rocky terrain and want for trees. No one would ever guess a Fairy Fountain is hidden in its core.

  I’d heard of Fairy Fountains but had never experienced one. According to Isabeau, they’re easy to find if one knows where to look. Each Fountain is connected to all the others throughout the Reflections. They’re like Thresholds. The difference is you must obtain permission from the Fairy Queen to pass through their territories.

  Isabeau controls the pathways between Fountains and sent us on a direct route to the Fairy Fountain of the Fourth—a hidden lagoon in a pocket cave beneath Dai Island, which is where we are now. It’s one of five islands surrounding the Fourth’s main Island of Tecre.

  How much longer until daybreak? If it were up to me, I’d have already crossed to the main island for reconnaissance. If this rose is so valued, it won’t be sitting out in the open, and the Fourth’s center is full of nooks and crannies. I’ve been here but once before, during my first year of Guardian training. It was Jonathan who brought me, in fact.

  As if on cue, he snores and moans in his sleep.

  I cast a glance behind me. Isabeau insisted the traitor accompany me, and he agreed. When did he turn from respectable Guardian leader to the Troll’s errand boy? Because that is all she will ever be in my eyes. Queen of the Fairy folk or not, you can’t make something what it isn’t. Her beauty in her Fairy and human forms may be sights to behold, but they are mere sights, illusions covering what truly lies beneath.

  A monster.

  Jonathan stirs again, so I move farther down the shore, peering out across the water. The lights of the Fourth’s city are fireflies in the distance. I gaze skyward and take in my favorite sight. No matter the Reflection, the stars never change. They’re the one thing I can count on to remain constant. They stay where they are, they do not fail. I can look up and see precisely what I expect. Why can’t El be that way? Why must she insist on being unpredictable?

  I scratch the back of my head. She’s a mystery, which is indeed part of what charmed me from the beginning. Now I can’t keep up. Come back to me, El. Come back.

  “You really should get some sleep.”

  My jaw tightens at the uninvited sound of Jonathan’s voice. He’s not in error, but I’ve no intention of letting him in on this information. Instead I continue to move farther away, walking the line between sea and rocky beach. Stones crunch beneath my tread and I kick them up and into the waves. Jogging steps thud behind me and I grunt beneath my breath.

  “If you’re heading on a walk, I have to come.” He’s been running but lacks no breath. “Isabeau’s orders.”

  “About that.” I shove my hands into my pants pockets, and my sword shifts at my side. “What is going on between you two? Is lackey really your greatest aspiration?”

  Out of the corner of my eye I catch him shake his head. “It is a fair price to pay for the wish she granted me. That is all.”

  “And what wish is that?”

  He huffs. “What do you care?”

  I shrug. “I don’t.” It’s the most honest reply I can give. What concern do I have for a traitor?

  We march in silence, and after a substantial amount of time has passed, I can almost believe we’ve traveled back in time to when we’d train together in the early hours of the day. What began as a leader-recruit relationship quickly transformed into a friendship. Long after I exceeded the need for instruction, we continued to work out side by side. While other Guardians chose to wait and warm up with the majority, Jonathan and I preferred the quiet minutes before the sun awoke. We’d run along the worn Haven path, our breaths as fog in the air. Sometimes we’d race, while other days we’d jog as if one unit. He was like a brother, another reason his betrayal burned like chaff.

  “I had no choice.”

  I lift an eyebrow at his freely offered words.

  He picks up his pace and walks a little ahead of me. I remain silent. This, too, is a tactic we were taught in training. Sometimes the best and most valuable information is given without any interrogation whatsoever.

  “My father was Called, and his father before him,” Jonathan says. “When the Threshold water manifested nothing in my soul, I was a disgrace to the family. My father booted me out quicker than Preacher can draw and nock an arrow.”

  We’re halfway around the miniature island now. The surface is level enough I can see from one end to the other without effort.

  “Moving up in rank as a Guardian became my life. If I could be the best at something, even without a Calling, perhaps my father would be proud. Of course, that wasn’t the case.”

  It never is.

  “When the girl came to us, I knew she was the key to
getting what I’d always lacked. My first inclination was to offer her up to Crowe, of course. He carried the Void, and though dark, it is powerful. If the Verity could give a Calling, what could the Void do? My first Void injection was painful, but the surge of strength was undeniable. I relished it. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could become the man my father hoped I’d be.”

  Out of habit, my right fist clenches the hilt of my sword. I’ve felt it, too, the power coursing through my veins since the Void entered. So different from the Verity. The Verity’s presence was—what’s the word?—calming? No, it was more than that. With the Verity inside I felt as if life was in constant bloom. I never knew anything different, not until the light left and was replaced by darkness. Only then did I sense the great and tragic loss.

  Jonathan clears his throat. “But then a Fairy found me, told me Isabeau was looking for the girl and would offer an even sweeter deal for the return. Something even better than what Crowe could provide with the Void.”

  We’re nearly back to camp now, and the sky is beginning to lighten. “Which was?”

  He stops and faces me. “A Calling.”

  I shake my head. “Only the Verity can give a Calling. One from any other source would be a farce.”

  His face is as hard as his voice when he says, “A farce, perhaps, but enough. Enough to show my father I was a man. Enough to prove I was worthy of the name Gage.” He trudges away, back to our resting place. He’s already packed his things and is headed toward our small rowboat when I reach him.

  I possess nothing but the clothes on my back and the sword at my side, so I follow after him. He didn’t let on what his Fairy-manufactured Calling is, but there’s no question it aided in healing his eyes, which El said were clawed shut by Lark’s talons. I almost feel sorry for him. He sought power from the wrong source entirely. Power from darkness only wields more darkness.

  The sun blinks over the horizon as I enter the boat. As Jonathan rows to the Fourth’s main shore, I ignore the throbbing in my Void arm, attempt to shut out the voice becoming louder each hour. But the fatigue is making the effort too great. When the voice speaks I close my eyes and exhale against it, as if somehow this will carry it away. It doesn’t work, however, because the voice’s whispers turn to shouts.

  “Darkness wields darkness, yes, but much is gained in the night. Rest and solace. Peace. Let me give you rest. Let me . . .”

  I don’t hear what else the voice says because with each row of the oars, I drift off into the first sleep I’ve had in days.

  THIRTY

  Sisters Again

  She’s screaming.

  The memory of Mom’s shriek haunts me. She’s in pain. Being dragged through the Threshold at Central Park’s Pond.

  Because of me.

  Bang! Haman cackles. Wren mourns. Robyn bleeds.

  Because of me.

  Haman snaps his fingers. Joshua cries out in pain.

  Because of me.

  Ky dies. Loses the Verity. Takes on the Void.

  Because of me.

  Coronation guests bawl. Stormy sobs. Kuna dies.

  Because of me.

  “No,” I croak, a weak and wretched sound. “Stop. Take me.” Me, me, me.

  I can’t continue to allow the people I love to suffer. I won’t.

  Must.

  Destroy.

  The.

  Void.

  Someone laughs.

  I flinch.

  “You’re getting better.”

  Ebony? Her voice is far away. Muted.

  Grunt. I try to roll over in my hammock, but it just swings. I’m mummied in place.

  “I knew you had it in you, runt.” Ebony again. But the characteristic insult that normally coats her tone is absent, replaced by . . . pride?

  I sit up and my hammock makes the ceiling creak. Tide snores from the hammock to my right. Charley rests soundlessly in the one to my left, red hair spilling over the side of the canvas, making it appear as if it’s caught fire.

  I rub my eyes, letting my vision adjust. What time is it?

  “That’s it,” Ebony says. “You may still have your Confine, Khloe, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun with your Calling.”

  My ears perk. Khloe?

  “You’re a natural. We must be related.”

  That does it. I’m out of my hammock and on my feet. After sliding into my shoes and tiptoeing through the crew’s sleeping quarters, I take the stairs to the deck two at a time, the rope-coiled railing scratching my palm. A hazy sky greets me, barely lit, suggesting dawn has only just broken.

  A girl who couldn’t be a day over twelve stands at the deck’s center, back turned toward me. Her hair is black frizz, her skin the shade of Mom’s favorite cup of Earl Grey. Ebony is across from her, face alight in a way I’ve never witnessed. Joy adorns her eyes, her customary outfit of arrogance shed for another ensemble altogether.

  She’s beautiful.

  “We have a visitor.” Ebony leans to one side, peering at me past Khloe. “May I introduce our other sister.” She examines her less-than-pristine nails. “El, Khloe. Khloe, El.”

  Khloe twirls. Not turns, twirls. “We’re approaching the Threshold. You might want to change.”

  No “Hey, how’s it goin’?” No “Good morning, it’s nice to finally meet you, sis.” She skips right past the formal greetings and jumps into bossiness.

  She’s definitely related to Ebony.

  When she lists her head it’s with the grace of a prima ballerina. Her face is even younger than I expected, baby fat filling out her chin and cheeks. “Countess Ambrose would take it as a sign of disrespect if you were to enter her court looking like you just climbed out of bed.” Her words are blunt but not rude. Her smile holds a secret, maybe even a joke. She’s only eleven but she sounds years her senior.

  I examine my clothes. Yesterday’s sweaty jeans and jacket combo sticks to me in odd places, cinched and twisted and stretched. Ebony pushed me to my limit, making me transform to and from a butterfly at least a dozen times. Each instance stirred a passion inside me, awakening the Verity for the first time since I was crowned.

  Crowned. Verity. Could taking on the power that comes with being queen have had something to do with the Verity’s sudden silence? Was the crown what stopped the Verity from creating a calm within?

  I smooth my hair. I removed the mirrorglass crown, but the Callings continue to dwindle. Still, something happened at the coronation when I became the ruler of the Second. I need to run this by Ky.

  “Does she always stare off into space like that?” Khloe asks. “Are you sure she’s our sister?”

  Blink. Huh? My sisters stand with arms crossed and smiles quirked. Both ogle me as one would a crazy person.

  “Yeah, pretty much.” Ebony shrugs one shoulder. “You get used to it.”

  Even if I could speak, what would I say? I’ve never had siblings before. It was always me and Mom. It took a good few weeks to fall into the tempo of having a best friend in Stormy, and only then because she was persistent. But sisters? That’s a whole other symphony.

  “Have you come to practice with us? I’ve been ill for a few days, but I’m totally better now. Big brother always makes me stay in bed when I’m sick, even when I insist I’m fine. Ebony’s been teaching me how to project. With my Confine in place ’til I turn eighteen, my Calling has limits. Still, there are other ways I can flex my Shield muscles. Isn’t that right, Eb?”

  Practice? Project? Shield muscles? Eb? This girl talks a mile a minute, launching from one topic to the next without prelude or an opportunity to get a single syllable in.

  My older sister stands beside the younger. They may be opposites in appearance, but their personalities sure are in sync. “El’s not strong enough.” Ebony flips her hair. “Projecting is a whole different level of mastery.”

  I want to ask what projecting is, to inquire why these two seem so close. Ebony—a.k.a. Bones—mentioned she was the one who tran
sported Khloe to the Fourth upon Jasyn’s orders. Could they have bonded then?

  “Oh.” Khloe bounces on her toes. “I’m supposed to tell you my brother wants to see you. He sent me to fetch you, but then I found Ebony and got excited to practice and totally forgot.” She talks with her hands, all flails and flaps.

  I nod a silent thanks as I head for the captain’s cabin. I need to speak to Ky as well and am grateful for the chance to do so alone. When I reach the upper deck, however, I pause. Observe my sisters for another moment. They laugh and chat, Ebony leaning in to tell Khloe something or other and Khloe nodding. Unprecedented jealousy lances my chest.

  When Ky first told me of Khloe, a surge of hope swelled. Could Khloe and I become friends—sisters? Watching her with Ebony now, I have to wonder if the sister ship has sailed. They’re so easy with each other. Might I have a chance with baby Evan, if I ever get to meet him? Will anything in my life ever be normal?

  Once I reach the captain’s cabin, I touch the doorknob and give it a quarter turn. Wait. What am I doing? My hand lifts and knock, knock, knocks.

  “Come in,” Ky calls.

  Okay. Breathe. We haven’t been alone since my first night here. But I can do this, I can—

  I freeze in my tracks. Ky stands across the room, shirtless. His jeans hang low over his hips, belt undone. Morning’s cool light filters through the curved window, softens his winter-worn features. I almost don’t notice he has more than just the one new scar on his face.

  Except my eyes adjust and I do notice. I see the burned flesh, pink and potholed and shiny, on his right pec—the place where his Guardian tattoo used to be. Inward gasp. The tip of the sword is still visible, the slightest curve of the crown. But the arrow is gone, as is the Guardian oath. It appears as if someone scorched the image clean off his skin. And then there are the yellowed bruises. The raised lines of healing scars.

  The first day of the year screeches back to me like tires on black ice. Joshua about to propose—again. Me, falling to my knees in dire agony. Joshua following suit. It was Ky’s pain we felt.