38. The Mirror Bride
THE MIRROR brIDE
TALIA
Scripture and faerie stories share the same characters and moral stakes, but they approach belief differently. A good faerie story doesn’t tell you what to believe. It makes you feel. You discover your own truth in it. That kind of emotional connection is very hard to uproot.
The first hints of rosy firstlight just touched the horizon when they made their way out of the church, and the streets were eerily quiet.
Talia felt Lore just behind her and to the left as she picked her way through the mud.
It was a tense trek. Every second she expected their pursuers to reappear, but they made it to the rendezvous without incident.
The soft nicker of horses echoed through the gorge, and she followed the noise to their friends. She scanned the group, and everyone was accounted for. No new wounds that she could see.
The bond flickered to life, and she felt Dawn scanning her. She did her best to shield her emotions, but she couldn’t know how much slipped through. Dawn smirked, which told her something. No privacy between bond-mates, apparently.
“You’re okay, then?” Holloway asked, oblivious to the flurry of context passing across the bond.
“Just fine,” Lore said easily. “Storm broke their trail. We waited it out, and no one followed us.”
Riven glanced from Lore to Talia. She couldn’t meet his eyes.
They rode north through the morning, further from the Queen’s Way with each step. Holloway tried to make conversation, but no one answered. Dawn kept scanning the horizon line behind them, watching for pursuit.
They made camp a little after highsun, when it seemed clear no one was behind them. Everyone was exhausted, but that didn’t fully explain the tension.
Dawn seemed more prickly than normal. Riven stalked off to set a perimeter. Holloway kept shooting confused glances between them, trying to figure out what was going unsaid.
When Riven returned, he watched Talia with a concerned crease between his eyebrows. It was worse than anger would have been. If he was being territorial, she could have dismissed it, but this? His stoic concern irritated her, and she couldn’t explain why.
When evening fell they built a fire. Still, no one talked.
“What about a story?” Holloway asked hopefully.
Riven stirred the coals, and sparks drifted up like fireflies. His voice, slow and ceremonial, snapped Talia out of her head.
“There was once a fae prince who took a mortal bride. He loved her beauty so fiercely he feared losing her. So he gave her a mirror, polished silver, that would show her everything she desired.
“She gazed into the mirror each day. First to see herself as she was, then to imagine herself as she wished to be. The mirror gave her what she longed for. Each time she looked, her reflection grew more vivid, while she herself grew dim.
“When the prince saw what was happening, he tried to pull her away, but she no longer heeded him. She belonged to the mirror more than the living world.
“One day he came to look for her, and she was gone. Only her perfect reflection in the mirror remained, smiling back at him from the silver glass. And there her beauty has continued to sparkle, the mirror bride, long after her body turned to dust.”
Talia wanted to laugh. Leave it to Riven to break the silence with the most depressing faerie story possible. She glanced at Lore and he smirked back, shaking his head a little. He thought so too.
“They were doomed from the start,” Holloway muttered, tugging his blanket up to his chin. “Mortals and fae magic don’t mix.”
Dawn snorted. “Lesson’s simple. Get off your ass and take what you want before wishing carves you hollow.” She grinned at Talia.
Lore’s smile caught the firelight. “You’re all so convinced that it’s a sad story. The prince gave her exactly what she wished for. Most people call that love.”
That brought the silence right back down. The fire popped, and stillness settled over them. There was clearly a warning in the story, but they’d each heard a different one.
Talia wasn’t sure what to take from it, herself, but she couldn’t get the image out of her head. The bride staring into silver glass until there was nothing left but the reflection. Until she was the reflection.
She looked around the campfire.
Holloway was watching her sheepishly. Lore’s eyes flashed gold in the firelight. Riven’s face was unreadable. Three men. Three different versions of who she could be with each of them.
The fire burned lower. One by one, folks drifted to their bedrolls. Lore’s hand brushed her shoulder as he passed, but he didn’t ask her to follow, and she didn’t offer.
Riven caught her eye. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Just tired.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but he nodded and gave her space.
She lay awake, her mind spinning. The story clung to her thoughts like cobwebs, uncomfortable and sticky.
Finally she gave up and slipped from her bedroll.
The night air stung her lungs, and she tugged on Riven’s old canvas coat.
She found Dawn at the edge of camp, perched on a boulder overlooking the dark river.
“Figured you’d come by at some point,” Dawn said. “Could tell you weren’t sleeping.”
Talia leaned on the boulder. The water churned noisily down below.
“You’re going to torture yourself over this, aren’t you?” Dawn said. “I can feel you spiraling.” She tapped her temple. “Bond goes both ways.”
“I’m not spiraling—”
“You fucked Lore. Good for you.” Dawn kicked a pebble off the edge. “You wanted to do it, right? Don’t second-guess it.”
“But you told me not to.” If Dawn was going to judge her, she’d rather hear it head on.
“You ever do that before?” Dawn asked, glancing over. “Make a bad call on purpose?” Talia didn’t have to answer, Dawn just grinned and shook her head. “Shit, it was probably past time.”
Talia’s throat tightened. “What about Riven?”
“What about him?”
“I hurt him.”
Dawn just laughed and slapped Talia’s leg. “No. You definitely didn’t. He’s worried, not hurt.”
Talia wanted to argue, but her shoulders relaxed. Dawn didn’t sugarcoat things, and she knew Riven better than anyone. If she said he was okay, he must be.
“Look, Lore uses people,” Dawn said. “Riven sees that. He wants what’s best for you, and he’ll fight for it. Maybe let him.”
Talia nodded slowly. She felt almost…disappointed? Had she wanted Riven to be jealous? That made no sense.
“Just do what you want,” Dawn said, looking her over. “It’s not your job to make these men happy.” She stood and brushed off her pants. “Get some sleep. You look like shit.”
She sounded dismissive, but Talia got a different message over the bond. There was concern there, a protective hum that gave Dawn away. She cared. It was sweet, in its own way.
Dawn stalked off to prowl the perimeter while Talia lingered at the riverbank. The cool breeze felt good on her warm cheeks. Her body hadn’t stopped humming.
You mirror whoever makes you feel wanted.
Holloway’s words still stung. She sighed. She didn’t regret what had happened with Lore. Last night was the closest she’d ever gotten to putting her own desires first, and she didn’t want to apologize for it, not even to herself.
She didn’t want to care what Dawn thought, either, but her support felt surprisingly good.
When Talia got back to camp, Riven was awake, studying the fire. He didn’t look up, but he shifted to the side, making room.
She hesitated before settling next to him. “I’ve never heard that faerie story before. I thought I’d heard them all.”
“It’s an old one.”
She was getting more used to the cadence of his silences, the non-answers and the quiet that seeped between them. He wasn’t being evasive, she realized. He just didn’t make things about himself.
“Where did you hear it?”
He was quiet long enough that she thought he wouldn’t answer.
“My mother loved the old stories. That one reminds me of a good friend. Someone I let down.”
“Can I ask what happened to him?” It was a personal question, but she was suddenly desperately curious about Riven’s past.
“She wanted the wrong things,” was all he said.
The fire popped. She pulled his coat tighter around her shoulders and stared at the coals.
“Do you think I made a mistake?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, he didn’t answer the question.
“Are you happy, Talia?”
She opened her mouth to say she was fine, like she always did, but she paused. That wasn’t the question.
“I think so,” she said finally. “I’m trying to be.”
He nodded and dropped a hand to her knee, rubbing it before he stood. “Then no,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you kept the coat, by the way. I like that one.”