by Sara Ella
Mom’s eyes widen. She rounds on Makai. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. She can’t be here. Do you think my father has figured it out?”
“We can only hope—”
“What are you talking about? Jasyn already knows about my link to the king.” I glance at the door. Come on, Ky, come on. “As long as Jasyn doesn’t have the Verity’s vessel, he won’t hurt me.”
Makai approaches. “Did you have any trouble getting into the castle? Discovering this room?”
“Not really.” I lick my dry lips. “There were a few guards, but we distracted them.” Uneasiness ferments in my stomach. Drat.
Footsteps echo outside the door.
Makai takes a protective step in front of Mom, who grabs my arm and pushes me behind them both.
I peruse the room. My gaze settles on the bathroom door. I sprint over, glance inside. No mirrors. Think. There must be a way out.
The doorknob rattles.
I’m a Mirror. I can protect us. Not that I’ve had a ton of time to practice, but—
Knock, knock.
I raise Ky’s knife. Brilliant. As if I know anything about hand-to-hand combat.
“I love you,” Makai whispers to Mom, temporarily freeing me from my panic attack.
She rises on her toes. “I love you.”
He leans down and kisses her, long and deep. Is this their first kiss? Could it be a Kiss of Infinity even?
I avert my eyes, not wanting to intrude. The mirrorglass blade reflects the soft lamplight, sending bursts of rainbow dancing on the ceiling and wall. Epiphany! It could work. I hope.
Mom clings to Makai. He separates himself from her, takes a giant step back. “I’ll hold them off.”
Grabbing Mom’s hand I say, “We have to go.”
“I won’t leave you.” She clings to Makai, then turns to me. “Go, brave girl.”
“Lizzie . . . if you’re going to choose this moment to exhibit your stubborn side, so help me, I’ll never speak to you again.”
Mom opens her mouth in protest.
“Get her out of here,” Makai roars, then disappears.
I tug on Mom’s hand. “Mom, he’ll be fine. Pleeease . . .”
She hesitates only a moment before relenting.
The door vibrates. A man shouts.
I lift Ky’s blade over our heads, my love for Mom drawing a reprise of “the song” from my lips.
Thud, rattle, bang! Bellow, yell, holler!
Just as I arc the blade toward us, the door bursts open.
Terror grips my soul, drains the blood from my skull.
Soulless guards flank Ky, restraining him. His lip is busted open, his green eye red and swelling.
“Go!” he bellows. One of the guards knees him, and he doubles over. “Don’t come back! Don’t you dare come back for me, Em.”
My heart hits the floor. Not Ky. Please, not Ky.
I lose sight of him as Mom and I melt into the mirrorglass, shrinking and expanding, defying the laws of physics.
Time slows. We fall into the attic. Our attic. The one in New York.
I release Mom’s hand. She’s safe. Finally.
She’s on her knees. Smiles, but it doesn’t last. Her brows scrunch.
I’m still holding Ky’s knife, hand trembling.
“Eliyana.” Mom’s mouth turns down. She has that look she used to give me when I was a kid. Warning. Danger. Stop. “Wait,” she says.
I want to stay. I have to go. “I can’t leave him.” Not when the only reason he’s there is because of me. I won’t be the cause of anyone else’s pain. Not anymore.
She nods. “I never should have kept you from all of this. I thought I was protecting you. But you don’t need protecting anymore, do you?”
I don’t have an answer. My only goal has been to save her—the one person I’ve always needed most in the world. Now that I have, I find I want more. Not because I don’t love her. Because I’ve learned she’s not the only person who could ever love me.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I know.” She smiles. “Go now. We’ll see each other soon.”
My heart breaks into a million pieces as I sob my song once more, these lyrics for Ky alone. Because I want the chance to know him. Because if I don’t go back, I’ll always wonder what would’ve happened if I did.
The blade wavers. I draw it down over my head and brace myself for the impact.
I smash into the floor of Mom’s suite, tumble, and roll. The knife flies, clatters. My pack slaps my spine. I push myself up, pins and needles pinging my palms. The room is empty. Except for Ky. He’s facedown on the rug. I scramble to him. Fall to my knees. Turn him over.
Blood. Smearing his skin. Soaking his shirt.
Chip. Crack. Shatter. The ice within is breaking. Melting. I cover my mouth. Then I reach for the knife at his ankle. Gone. Drat. With all the force I can muster, I rip open his shirt.
Oh. My. Soul.
The blackened veins are no longer secluded to his right arm. They’re crawling across his broken body, creeping beneath his bleeding skin like dozens of venomous asps. Infecting him. Killing him.
He coughs and gags. Opens his eyes. “Em, you idiot.” The insult is quarter-hearted.
My hands hover over him. I throw off my pack, remove my hoodie, and dab at the blood trickling from his lip and brow. “What do I do? How do I stop it? I’m a Mirror. There must be some way I can—”
“You can’t.” Eyelids fluttering, his body convulses and he hisses in pain. “It’s the Void,” he rasps. “They injected me with something, sent it straight into my bloodstream. I’ve never seen anything like it. It feels as if . . . it’s feeding off me. The more I fight it, the faster it spreads. I’m—my soul. I don’t have much time. You should go. I don’t know what kind of monster I’ll become when the Void takes over.”
“No.” My lip quivers. I shove childish tears away. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Never.” Ky’s gaze holds mine as he lifts a shaky hand and sweeps my bangs to the side, fingertips tickling the skin above my right brow.
The Void is spreading up his neck now. Over his face. It will be over soon. His soul will belong to darkness.
His arm falls away, hand limp at his side.
I close my eyes, tears cascading down my cheeks in a sticky mess. “Don’t leave,” I sing against his cheek. “Don’t give up. Stay with me.” And then I press my lips to his, kissing him before he’s gone. Begging the good in him to fight against the Void. Reminding him he has something left to live for.
At once I feel a whooshing sensation, like breath expelled on a summer wind. I’m floating ten feet aboveground and drowning in my own tears. This moment is everything and nothing and I can’t explain why I feel as if I’ve found life and death, beginning and end, all in one kiss.
“A Kiss of Infinity isn’t something you decide to bestow. It comes from the deepest part of your soul. Stems from desires and emotions you may not even be aware you possess.”
Ky’s lips come to life, move against my own. His kiss carries all the force of butterfly wings. Soft. Tender.
I lift my head, blinking. The Void is retracting, slithering away, the color returning to Ky’s beaten face. But not only that, his wounds are closing, his broken skin healing before my eyes.
Did my kiss save him? Impossible.
He gulps a breath. Opens his eyes. Touches two fingers to his swollen lips. “Em, what did you do?”
“I . . . don’t know.” Except I do. “I didn’t want to lose you.” If I gave Ky a Kiss of Infinity, we’re both linked to the king now. For another week at least. I grab his hand. No time to analyze the implications. “We have to go. We have to—”
Clap. Clap. Clap.
My head jerks up.
A girl with icy-blonde hair stands in the doorframe. A ruthless smile, reminiscent of a Troll I once met, curls the corners of her lips. “My, my, my, Ky Rhyen. You have been a busy boy.”
Quinn?
/> THIRTY
True
I can’t believe I thought for one second she was my friend. Is everyone in my life a token in some Verity versus Void rivalry?
The doorframe around Quinn shimmers like a hologram. Was it always made of marble?
“The trick is to look for tells. No matter how strong the façade, there are always glitches—signs that what you’re seeing isn’t real.”
Oh. Crud.
Quinn retreats as if whisked backward on a moving sidewalk. The suite transforms, lengthening, widening. Carpet converts to cherrywood. Staggered quartzite bricks protrude from papered walls. Arching windows cut through as if hole punched. Marble columns support five tiers of balconied floors.
We’re centered in the throne room. Jasyn commands the marble dais before us, a high-backed chair upholstered with burgundy fabric directly behind him. A majestic celling-to-floor tapestry, featuring a Second Reflection atlas in vibrant hues, flows beyond the dais. My emotions blaze as I peer at the threads detailing every province and landmark. Blood pumps, head whirs, eyes water. This is my world now. I’ve claimed it. No turning back.
Jasyn stands there, hands folded in front of him, every bit as he was the last, and first, time I saw him—pressed suit, kind eyes, and all the arrogance of a Wall Street big shot. “Bravo, granddaughter. Marvelous performance, really. So tender. So heartfelt.”
I gawk at Ky.
He shakes his head, and his eyes go wide.
The mirrorglass blade. Where is it? I scan my periphery.
“I must say.” Jasyn descends the dais stairs, his dress shoes clapping against marble as if applauding his cleverness. “When I allowed Kyaphus to release you from the dungeon, I expected him to fall for you.” He halts on the last step. “What I did not anticipate was that you would also become so attached to him.”
We scramble to stand, Ky helping me up, placing his body protectively in front of mine. “What are you rambling on about, Crowe?” he spits, arm locked and tendered like a sword.
“Only that I needed someone to keep an eye on the girl until I was ready for her.” His attention rests on Ky. Doesn’t he know what Ky’s capable of? Why is Jasyn making eye contact without an ounce of hesitation? “Who better than one of my own to complete the task?”
And why is he talking about me in third person as if I’m not here?
“By the way,” Jasyn says with a leer, “your darling Khloe sends her regards.”
Khloe? Ky’s sister. Must be. I grasp Ky’s bicep, my vise grip begging him not to do something stupid. Like get himself killed.
His body is a pillar of energy, vehemence vibrating his being from bared teeth to pounce-ready stance. “Don’t you dare speak her name, murderer.”
“Now, now. Let us speak in a civil manner, hmm? Khloe is . . .” Jasyn pauses, as if we need the dramatic effect. “. . . just fine. I am fully aware her life has been my greatest bargaining chip when it comes to you, Kyaphus.” His gaze falls to me. “Until now.”
“Where is she? I want to see her.” Veins pop beneath the skin on Ky’s neck, on the back of his clenched hand.
“I am afraid that is not possible, but I assure you, she is being well cared for.” When Ky doesn’t relax or lower his arm, Jasyn adds, “I never do anything without cause, my boy. What purpose would killing your sister serve? When the Confine on her Calling lifts one day, I do believe she will make a fine addition to my collection. She has potential, does she not?”
One, two, three drawn-out pulses in my ear. And then . . .
Ky. Lowers. His. Arm.
There. Something glints beside a marble column twenty paces to my left. But how to reach it? I’ve had no practice. No reason to believe the Magnet within is strong enough to summon Ky’s special knife. Not sure if a knife is something I’m capable of summoning. What if I have a connection with water like Stormy, or one of the other elements Ky mentioned? Even so, I have to try. Focus. Play the notes in my mind. See them. Will the weapon into my hand. Adrenaline courses through me, pumping, rushing, surging.
The blade doesn’t budge.
Why didn’t I inquire more about Stormy’s Calling?
“What . . . do . . . you . . . want?” Ky seizes a breath between each word.
“Only exactly what you have given me. The key to the vessel’s undoing.”
Me. My train of thought temporarily derails. “If you kill me, the Verity will leave King Aidan and find another vessel.” I duck beneath Ky’s arm.
“First, would you stop insisting I want to kill you? It is becoming redundant. And second, who said anything about King Aidan?”
“You can’t win this, Jasyn.” I press on, ignore questions. “No matter what you do, the Verity will always be out there. And one day it will imprison the Void.” I relish the words, feel their truth seep through my pores.
Jasyn flicks a thread of lint from his suit. “Do you truly believe I am so oblivious to the happenings and history of my own Reflection?” He tilts his head, eyeing me so penetratingly I have no choice but to look away.
Creepy.
“Take the rebels’ hiding place, for instance.” He faces the tapestry, extends an arm toward the Haven. “The vermin think they are so clever, hiding out on that hole of an island, a place that has been their prison all these years.” He folds his hands in front of him, Grinch-like smile unfurling. “The truth is, I have allowed them to remain there. They cause me no trouble, and I in turn let them live their lives, weeding them out one by one. Much less hassle to maintain them that way, would you not agree?”
“Need I remind you of Haman’s betrayal, not to mention the dozens of others who’ve surrendered to the Void? Decent men and women we trusted. Our numbers are dwindling . . .”
Preacher’s words float across my memory, the Scrib in me recalling his argument syllable for syllable. Jasyn has known of the Haven all this time? “Then why did Haman and the Soulless attack? Why now? He killed”—I swallow, forcing composure—“he killed someone.” Robyn. A pinch in my chest.
“Yes, well, I needed the rebels to know they are no match for me. I am keeping them right where I want them—fearful and in hiding. You have given them hope, and that is a dangerous thing. I am afraid casualties are inevitable.”
Robyn a casualty? Why, you mouth-breathing son-of-a-troll.
“But let us start from the beginning.” He ascends the steps once more, resuming his place five strides above. “Shall we commence with your mother?”
Despite the resident fear slinking up my spine, I can’t help but expel a relieved breath. Mom is safe. No matter what else happens, I’ve done what I came for.
Jasyn sits on the throne, rests his elbow on the chair’s arm, and leans his head against his extended thumb and forefinger. “I have searched for the vessel of the Verity for twenty-one years. But I have sought someone else too.”
Mom. My jaw goes slack. I don’t like where this is going.
Jasyn catches my eye with an iceberg glare. “Do not look so surprised. I am not the heartless villain everyone makes me out to be. When Elizabeth disappeared, I put every effort into finding her. If I thought the vessel was an enigma, Elizabeth was even more the conundrum. Where had she gone and why? I never harmed her. Never gave any indication I would do so.”
I spy the knife out of the corner of my eye. Slide my foot left an inch. All I need is a window. If I can’t summon the stubborn thing, I’ll have to get it the old-fashioned way. Then I can transport us out of here.
“It was actually your father who finally shed some light on the matter.”
Wince. Focus deterred—again. Please don’t say—
“Tiernan Archer’s only loyalty was to himself.” Jasyn speaks with all the enthusiasm of the cow from Into the Woods. “It took very little coaxing to get it out of him. A few hallucinations, a bit of torture. I do not believe I have ever encountered a weaker human being.”
Ky shifts. “Why would my father know anything about her mother?”
I t
urn to Ky. He should hear this from me.
Jasyn beats me to it. “No, no, no.” He chuckles. “Not your father. Her father.” He must take in Ky’s confused expression because he adds, “Do you mean to tell me you two have not been formally introduced?”
My head grows light. I sit on the bottom dais step to keep from toppling. This is not how this was supposed to go.
“Well then, allow me to do the honors. Kyaphus, may I introduce Tiernan Archer’s second child.”
Second child? What did I miss?
Cocking his head and narrowing his eyes, Ky moves toward me. “You’re Tiernan’s other daughter?”
Other? Does he mean Khloe?
“Did you know about this?” He crouches to my level. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t.” I press a clammy palm to my damp bangs, smash them against my forehead. “It was my fault he became so angry. He adopted you because I was born a girl. His debt to Jasyn, the one you had to pay, was because of me. Tiernan was the reason my mom fled the Second. I thought if you knew you’d—”
“What, Em? That I’d hate you? Your opinion of me must still be pretty poor.” The hurt in his voice arrests my heart. “Do you really see me as the kind of man who would blame someone for their parents’ mistakes?”
I blink. He’s right. He’s so right. “No.” I reach out to him. “I don’t.”
He straightens. Steps away. “I thought you knew me better than that.” Turning his back on me, he adds, “I guess I was wrong.”
I rise. Take two steps. “Ky—”
“Give it a rest, El.”
My regard switches to the grand staircase.
Quinn descends the steps, fingers caressing the glossy rail. Click-clack, click-clack.
My insides knot, knot, knot.
When she plants her peep-toed feet on the throne room floor, Quinn transforms. Goth clothing remains, from lacy headband to fishnet tights, but the body beneath changes. Cascading yellow tresses shrink to her shoulders, darkening to deep cocoa. Her oval face rounds into a heart shape, and her eyes shift from ice-queen blue to ganache brown. Aside from her still-perfect skin, she could be my—
“Eliyana,” Jasyn announces, “may I introduce Ebony Archer . . .”