Chapter 1 #2
“Well…” There’s a rueful tone to his voice as he takes the seat next to mine, still half bent over the table like he’s also fascinated by the mirror.
“I didn’t actually buy it.” He raises his hands as soon as I suck in a breath.
“And no, I didn’t ‘acquire’ it, either! I found it.
I had this urge to go for a walk on the beach.
It’s such a nice day—feels like it hasn’t been sunny for months. ”
A spike of envy pierces me. I used to love walking along the shore.
I’d pull off my shoes and socks and enjoy the crumbly feel of the dry sand beneath my feet, observing how it became more claggy and solid as I approached the lapping waves, until at last it squelched between my toes and the sea came washing in.
It’s years since I’ve had the strength to tackle the steep path down to the beach and the village.
But my envy isn’t fair on Lowen. My illness isn’t his fault. And here he is giving me a gift for my birthday.
That’s when it hits me—a pang in my chest that’s nothing to do with my heart rate.
Our brothers had all married by the time they were his age. Yet here he is, twenty-five years old, helping Annem and Pa care for me, where once, as the eldest child, I’d been the one to look after him and the others.
Oh, I’ve been a fool to not see it before. The link. The horrible, inextricable link.
I’ve been blaming other things for years. Our mother’s clinginess. That he hasn’t found someone yet—he’s special, sensitive, artistic, and this town is too small to provide him with the right person.
But really… he stays for me.
The thought steals my breath.
My brother has put his life on hold, refused to live it because of me.
I should be waxing lyrical about this gift. Yet I can’t get a word out through this terrible tightness.
Instead, I fold down my guilt like a neat handkerchief I can hide away and spread my cheerful smile wider.
He seems lost in the mirror, though, and as I tilt my head, I notice how its reflection seems… off.
The mirror is whole and smooth, but it fractures the room around us.
It doesn’t show me the ceiling, like it should from this angle, instead I see shards of the kitchen, and in one section, I’m sure I catch a glimpse of an ornate bed made of dark reddish wood and covered in heavy velvet drapes.
But when I blink, it’s gone, replaced by the stove.
“And… you found this on the beach?”
“What? Hmm? Oh, yes! I had to dig through some seaweed and shells to get to it. It must’ve washed up this morning. I can’t believe it isn’t broken—what luck is that? As soon as I saw it, I just felt that you needed to have it, so I raced back here.”
Part of me understands that I should be concerned by this. Shouldn’t he be at work? But the mirror is here and its wholeness is a little miracle. There isn’t so much as a dent in its frame.
There has to be something special about it. And if that’s possible, then maybe anything is. Maybe even the thing I’ve been working on all these years.
I expect to feel something when I pick the mirror up. A zap, a tingle, a sign that it’s magical or supposed to be mine—that the gods have sent it to give me hope.
But there’s nothing.
I bite back my disappointment, fully aware of how silly it is, and instead I tilt the mirror, searching for my reflection.
I find it. And instantly regret it.
A few years ago, all the mirrors in the house slowly…
disappeared. It was so gradual, I didn’t notice until I fainted and knocked my head.
When I went to check if I had a cut or bruise, I couldn’t find a single mirror.
Annem found me searching, and hustled me into a chair by the window so she could examine me.
She’d put witch hazel on the bruise, and that had been that.
Once, I’d been proud of my thick, shiny hair—a little vain about it, to be honest. My skin had been a slightly lighter version of mother’s olive brown, which contrasted with my golden-blond hair and brown eyes. Some said I was beautiful, others that I was exotic, which always made me roll my eyes.
But the woman whose fractured reflection looks back at me is none of those things.
Flat, dull hair has been tied into a neat braid, fastened with a bow, but the braid is much thinner than it once was.
Purplish hollows beneath her eyes contrast with the pale, sallow skin clinging to her gaunt cheeks.
The only color is the lurid pink flush from the belladonna, but even that looks unnatural, like I’m a child who’s found her mother’s rouge.
I almost don’t believe it’s me, but when I swallow, her throat bobs.
No wonder Annem hid all the mirrors.
I’ve felt the changes. The eroding of my body. The coarseness of my hair. The sharpness of my cheekbones. But seeing it spelled out in a looking glass is a different matter entirely.
But if this one survived the sea, perhaps there is some magic to it.
Fae are no mere legends—they are real and negotiated with our queen not so long ago.
I’ve heard of magic mirrors and some say they’re not just stories, but ways to speak to ancient fae in distant realms. What kind of wisdom might such a creature have?
What knowledge of the world—of medicine? What cures might they possess?
Then I could walk down to the beach and the village. I could meet the friends Lowen tells me about. I could be the woman I once was.
I could have a life.
It’s tissue-paper-thin hope. But that’s better than none at all.
The woman in the mirror smiles.
I touch the hopeful line of her lips, then hug the mirror to my chest, ignoring the way the spears prick through my dress. “Thank you, Lowen. This is… it’s truly special.”
He blinks up, brow creasing as he looks at me, then at the mirror in my arms. “Oh. Right. Yes. Your gift.” He shakes his head as though shaking off a rogue thought and kisses my temple. “Nothing’s too special for my big sister.”
“You need to put that sweet-talking to use.” I ruffle his hair, this close to reminding him that he should be married and in a home of his own by now—living his life rather than stuck here with me.
“Though…” Leaving the mirror on the table, I rise and start toward the cabinet of medicinal herbs I keep separate from the cooking ones.
“I wouldn’t mind if you did me a favor and took these to Mrs. Davy down in the village.
Annem mentioned her new baby was colicky and that she was still sore after the birth.
” I pluck out two small jars and press them into Lowen’s hands.
“Lemon balm, vervain, and chamomile tincture for the baby—one drop under the tongue before he feeds. Chamomile and daisy tea for mother. Oh, and putting a rolled blanket under the baby’s feet when he’s sleeping will help. At least that’s what I read somewhere.”
His eyes twinkle with amusement as he looks up from the jars. “Of course you did. But you’re in luck. I’m actually going back down to the pub tonight.” The corner of his mouth quirks as he looks away. “I can drop these off on my way.”
That secret smile. Maybe there is hope for him. “You know…” I nudge my hip into his. “If you wanted to take some flowers with you, I’m more than happy to make a bouquet from the garden.”
His head snaps around. “Flowers? Why would I want to take flowers to Mrs. Davy? Her husband would clobber me.”
“Not for her. For whoever it is that makes you smile like that.”
He pales, sucking in a quick breath as his gaze skims away again.
So he does have a sweetheart but is shy about it still. “I won’t pry. But whenever you’re ready to talk about this mystery person, I’ll be right here. It’s not like I go anywhere else.” I grin as I lift my shoulders.
Pulling a face as though it pains him, he half laughs. “This isn’t forever, Annon.”
I pat his jaw, which has turned stiff with this suddenly grave expression that doesn’t suit him at all. “I know.”
He means I’ll get better. I mean I won’t be here forever thanks to the whole business of dying. But my gaze slides over to the mirror sitting on the table.
The mirror that shouldn’t exist. That shouldn’t be whole. But that maybe, just maybe heralds something more.