Chapter 23
Lore
We froze, our eyes meeting in alarm.
Wait here. A blink, and I stood at the corner on the far end of the hall, scanning both corridors and finding no one. I flitted back to Reyla. No one’s there.
But someone was.
Maybe.
A timely warning, however.
We searched some more with desperate urgency.
The mirror on the far wall hung slightly crooked, enough to register as wrong every time I’d passed it. I’d noticed the angle earlier but ignored it. Since the room was so meticulously arranged, the sight of it pulled at me.
When I straightened it, the reflection lagged behind reality. Not by much, but enough to make my skin crawl.
In the glass, someone watched us from the shadows.
Prager. Red gown, elaborate hair, too much jewelry. She smiled and pointed directly at me. The gesture felt like a promise. Or a threat.
I spun toward the window, blade drawn, power surging. Empty space. But when I glanced back at the mirror, she'd moved closer.
Whirling around again, I found no one other than Farris snapping at the air where Prager should be, and my wildfire stooped and elbow-deep as she pawed through the lowest drawer of an ornately carved bureau.
I tilted the mirror back into the position it had hung in when we came in.
The room behind me reappeared as it was. Reyla on her knees, holding up a tunic. Farris peering this way and that, his ears back. And me, visible now in the glass. Lord Rutherford’s face, that his, his jaw tight, his expression dark and uncertain.
Prager's in the mirror, I told her, my mental voice tight. Watching us.
Sucking in a breath, she scanned the room. Her posture didn’t relax, but she released her grip on the hilt of her dagger. I don’t see her.
You will in the mirror.
Some sort of spell?
Yes.
The talisman must be here, then. She’s trying to scare us away.
Why not appear and kill us?
She propped her hand on her hip. Prager enjoys the game as much as the kill.
So do I except I play to win.
Coming over to stand beside me, she studied her reflection. When I looked, Lady Bliss stood there instead of my precious mate. If it’s a spell, let’s leave her trapped there.
The thought of Prager getting anywhere near my wife made my magic surge with violent intent. I couldn’t stab a mirror.
Turning to face me, she stroked my arm. Don’t let her spook you.
I’m not spooked. Not too much.
I know you.
More than anyone.
She wrapped her arms around me, holding me. I nudged my chin against the top of her head, grateful to have this woman in my life.
When we pulled apart, she moved on to search some more. Daring Prager, I straightened the mirror again.
She stood directly behind me with blades in her hands. Before I could spin or draw in power to send out, she stabbed, her knives hitting me in the neck, the ribs, and the lower abdomen.
Gasping, I turned, finding her gone. I pawed at my body but found no wounds.
With a snarl, I knocked the mirror off the wall. It shattered when it hit the floor, drawing Reyla’s attention.
“Are you alright?” she hissed, rushing over to me.
“I’m fine,” I bit out. One sweep of my hand, and the mirror fragments were swept underneath the bed. Someone would find them one day, but I doubted anyone would connect the broken mirror with us.
Reyla nodded slowly, her concerned gaze on my face, before she got back to her search.
I shifted my focus to the floor, going around, testing each board with my weight eased onto my foot. Then using magic to try to lift them, one after another.
One near the hearth gave a little when I tested it. My pulse quickened. After all the empty drawers and false leads, this felt different.
I knelt, resting my palm on the wood, and coaxed a seam open with a subtle push of magic. It lifted, revealing a dark gap beneath.
With one arm braced on the floor, I reached in slowly. If there was a trap, I’d trip it on my terms.
Heat.
Something small shifted, and I closed my fingers around a smooth object, and drew it out, revealing a deep red stone. I laid it on my palm, watching as the low light hit it and arced off.
Reyla came to my side and crouched. Farris followed and sat opposite her, staring at the stone.
She reached toward it but didn’t touch. What is it?
Not sure yet. I turned the thing over, looking for markings but finding none.
Frowning, she touched it, and pulled back fast, her mouth going slack. Her voice sounded hollow. Fear. Pain. A child’s voice crying.
Farris growled. Reyla looked at the stone like it had tried to bite her.
You’re holding it, she said. Don’t you feel it too?
I shook my head.
Then why me?
Maybe it’s selective. Maybe it’s broken.
Feels intact enough to me. She rubbed her fingers on her tunic. What do you think it is?
It could be a memory stone. I turned it over, studying it from all angles. Mages used them to store traumatic memories. Soldiers too, those who’d survived too much.
They locked away their trauma in a gem?
Better than carrying it forever. I thought of all the things I'd want to forget. Some memories are too heavy to bear.
What was she trying to forget? Reyla finally asked.
You assume this is Laphira’s.
Who else could it belong to?
Shrugging, I looked down at it. At the heat of it seeping through my skin. At the way my wildfire’s face had gone pale from one instant of contact.
We need to find out.
Footsteps again in the hall. Close. Getting closer.
Reyla’s panicked gaze locked on mine.
Someone opened the door to the sitting room. At least we’d shut the bedroom door.
The woman we’d heard in the hall spoke. Snapped, actually. “Sit. Stop whimpering.”
“Mummy. Are you alright, Mummy?” the boy asked. “Sit, Mummy. I’ll protect you.”
The little boy's voice cut through me. So much worry in such small words.
The floor creaked beyond the door. My hand hovered above the stone. One sound or one breath too loud, and it would be over.
I shoved the stone back into the gap in the floor and pressed the board down hard. It clicked into place. We both rose to our feet.
Reyla spun, scanning the room, and I did the same. Hide or leave?
There wasn’t time to choose. Only time to regret.
My heart pounded. Tension loaded the air. Even Farris went still, pressed against my leg like he understood we were about to be caught.
I grabbed Reyla’s hand and tugged her into my arms. “Hold on, Farris.”
He looked up at me with complete trust. One day, we’d discover why this small creature understood so much.
The bedroom door hinges creaked. The panel began to glide inward.
I flitted us back to our suite.
We squeezed through space like a fist around thread, stretched and pulled until everything inside me howled to snap back into place.
We landed in our bedroom at Irridain.
My limbs hadn’t caught up to the move yet.
The rug caught my boot, and I hit the side of the chaise with a grunt.
Reyla tumbled into me, her elbow digging into my ribs.
We landed on the chaise in a tangled heap, me on my back, her on top of me.
Farris leaped away with a huff and scampered into the sitting area.
For a moment, we just breathed. The adrenaline from nearly being caught still coursed through my veins, making everything sharper, including how aware I was of every place her body was touching mine.
Reyla’s hair hung in my eyes. Her hip was wedged against mine, one knee braced against my thigh.
Her breath whispered against my neck. Neither of us moved, caught between relief and something else entirely.
That was close, she said.
Too close.
She was still breathing hard, clinging to my shirt, and I could feel how cold her fingertips were.
Reyla didn’t move.
I didn’t either.
“You know,” I drawled. “For a narrow escape from mortal peril, this landing has definite possibilities.”
She braced herself up on my chest and gave me a look that was half mock scowl, half heat.
I could work with both.
We should talk about what we found, she said, but made no move to get up.
We should. I traced my finger along her jaw. In a moment.
The memory stone's secrets could wait.
Prager could wait.
Right now, all that mattered was the woman in my arms and the way she was looking at me, like she wanted to forget the danger for now.
I flitted us to the bed.