1. Esmira
ESMIRA
A pale glow unfurled from my fingertips, lighting up the open page of a book that displayed a serpentine monster. Soulless eyes and wicked fangs snarled back at me, as though the detailed parchment came alive under the unnatural light.
I dropped the tome, which tumbled to the plush carpeted floor of my chamber with an unholy thump. If the pages were crumpled or torn, the librarian would give me a sharp tongue lashing, but that was the least of my worries.
Turning my palms up, I stared at the glow, bile rising in my throat.
No, it couldn’t be!
I hadn’t meant to summon the light, didn’t know I had it within me. Glowing fingers and translucent veins only meant one thing.
Mirror Magic.
And it was forbidden.
Anyone found with magic was arrested and taken to the academy, where they were trained to protect and serve the kingdom, but anyone with Mirror Magic was executed because it was the one kind of magic that could bring back the Wicked Prince.
I grew up hearing the tale of the Wicked Prince of Mirrors, myths about him escaping from the mirror and returning to the kingdom he lost to his folly. A kingdom which now belonged to my father, for he was the one who took up his sword, rallied the people, and fought back the monsters at the door.
He made peace treaties with those who warred against the kingdom and built his own armies to conquer city after city.
We were a strong, united nation because of him.
The people called my father the great conqueror and they told tales of his courage in war, his bravery, his harshness, his fairness, and his cruelty.
Inside the palace, though, other stories were told. There were threats of usurpers and secret societies still loyal to the Wicked Prince. Even more concerning were whispers of foul attacks to the north, of people going missing and bodies found ripped open, despite the Boundary.
To end the war, my father had a magical barrier built between the land of mortals and the void of monsters.
I always imagined seeing it with my waking eyes, a bubble of pinkish-purple light, hues of lavender bleeding across the once azure sky, and bolts of zig-zagging lightning halted by crackles of fire from the magicians that guarded the Boundary.
Somehow, the beasts still escaped to roam the land. Killing.
Worse, no one knew what had happened to the monster of all monsters the Wicked Prince had supposedly freed from the mirrorverse. Was it still out there in hiding or had it been killed?
Recently I’d felt watched. Was it possible the monster was here?
Now this, glowing fingertips.
A shiver went up my spine, and the gnawing fear that sat like a stone in the pit of my belly grew tighter, heavier.
The door burst open. With a yelp, I thrust my hands into the folds of my silk dress and turned to face the intruder.
My cousin, Rhea, barged into the room, orange skirts twirling, light brown curls dancing around her shoulders, dark eyes lined with kohl.
There was always a wildness to her, a chaos to her energy.
I blamed it on the fact that she’d come from the north, too close to the war, too close to the devastation, too close to the barrier between life and a dreadful death.
She’d seen terrible things she never spoke of, but for the past five years, she’d lived with me, safe in my father’s palace.
Rhea tossed herself onto my bed, scattering the plump goose feather pillows. “Esmira, I have news.”
“News from the Boundary?” I asked, bending to scoop the book off the floor. I patted the pages back into place, relieved to see my fingertips were no longer glowing.
Rhea scowled. “No, stop worrying about your father. He’s a warrior king. Besides, plenty of magicians guard the Boundary. Monsters won’t come here. While your father’s gone, we should go have fun.”
I lowered my gaze back to the book of beasts.
Three weeks ago, my father had left with a group of soldiers for the Boundary.
The tour was routine, yet I couldn’t help the gloom that settled around me.
In his absence, a strangeness had come over the palace, shadows danced, reflections rippled, and sometimes voices whispered to me. I needed a distraction.
“What do you suggest?” I asked.
Rhea’s fingers danced over the patterns of the quilted blanket. Rolling onto her stomach, she grinned at me, eyes dancing with mischief. “The Night Market is coming tonight.”
My eyes widened. Closing the book, I dashed to the window which overlooked the flower gardens and the pine forests to the north.
There was nothing out there but lavender sky and a gloomy mist, hovering with indecisiveness as though it couldn’t choose whether to encase the forest or melt away.
Nothing new. “How do you know? Can you see it from here?”
“This morning, tents appeared in the open field outside the city. My maid, Hyria, says it will be open tonight. Word travels fast, the city will empty, everyone will go.”
I sank into the chair again. “Everyone will go. I wish we could.”
“Why wish? Let’s go!”
“What? No. It’s forbidden. My father would never give his permission.”
“But he’s not here, is he?” Rhea challenged, a wicked glint in her eye.
My face warmed, considering her words.
The Night Market appeared and disappeared at will, for a frivolous night of revelry.
There would be bonfires and dancing, sweet drinks and spicy foods.
Vendors with treasures for purchase and inside each tent would be a unique performance, a feat accomplished by artistry or acrobatics.
Stories were spoken in soft whispers of the Night Markets that appeared before the war, about the men who breathed fire, the women who could fly, tamed beasts who could dance and sweets that melted on one’s tongue.
“Say yes,” Rhea commanded. “I know you’re thinking it.”
My gaze dropped to my hands and that caged feeling came again. I needed to escape the walls of the palace; I needed to walk free and enjoy myself. I was a princess, not a prisoner.
“We’ll have to sneak out—” I began.
“No one will know.” Rhea grinned. “I promise.”
W e left after dinner while the sun set, a deep mauve spreading across the sky with hints of peach-colored streaks near its edges.
The palace sat at the height of the city with a river curled around one side like a snake sunbathing, while the other side was open meadow leading into the pine trees.
The wood stretched south as far as the coast, but the darkness of the trees always made me shudder, imagining what horrors lay hidden within.
So far, nothing nefarious had come out of the woods.
The Night Market sat on the open meadow, a smear of tents that blended into the night.
It was full of life and crowds of people, as though the entire city had emptied.
I’d never seen anything like it, the scent of baked sweets, the shouts and laughter of the crowd, the whoosh of fire.
Giant tents pulled my attention, and I turned in slow circles, staring at the sights and sounds in awe.
It was only when I stopped, I realized I’d lost Rhea.
I let my gaze dart around the nearby booths, searching for the familiar shape of my cousin.
Instead, a booth full of reflections caught my attention.
Curious, I strode toward it, taking in the glittering glass, shards of crystal and mirrors.
Round hand mirrors with ornament handles, square mirrors, large enough to hang on a wall.
A strange sensation came over me as I stepped into the tent.
The sounds of the crowd muted and my breath caught, every inch of skin tingling.
I lingered in front of a silver mirror, and something moved behind it. A shadow stepped toward me, its vague shape sharpening as it neared. I glimpsed pale skin, pointed ears, and dark eyes. Its mouth moved.
Princess .
I whirled around, heart racing.
But there was no one in the tent aside from myself and the woman who worked it.
She rearranged a set of crystal bracelets, dark hair falling to her shoulders and hiding her face.
A warning flitted across my soul, a reminder that true mirrors were illegal, and this booth should not be here.
If the Venators—Magic Hunters—came, either the woman would be captured or she’d produce a license to sell mirror lookalikes.
When I peered into the mirror again, there were no signs of a shadow, only my reflection, a young woman with a heart-shaped face, dark brown skin, overlarge brown eyes, and a hood covering waves of thick, curly hair.
I looked lost, frightened in a way that almost made me pity myself. Why wasn’t I bolder, stronger?
My silhouette warped in front of my eyes, moving like a trick.
This was the Night Market, a place of tricks and illusions. Was I peering into water instead of a mirror? I reached out my hand to touch my reflection.
My fingers burned and the glass shattered.
The scream that followed made my ears hurt until I realized the cry came from my own throat. My hands shook, blood stained my fingertips and shards of glass lay around my feet—so the mirror was real, not a fake.
The woman was at my side in a moment, a finger to her lips, wary eyes regarding me. “You’ll summon the Venators with that screaming. Come, let me bind your hand.”
“What happened?” I begged, letting her lead me deeper into her tent, the noise of the Night Market muffled by thick layers of velvet.
The woman hummed deep in her throat, then pushed me down on a stool. Bringing over a washbasin, she took my injured hand and gently wiped off the blood and tiny shards of glass. Her touch was firm but gentle, yet I didn’t notice the pain because of my surging fear.
I’d looked in the mirror, touched it, and it exploded.
Mirror Magic.
It had never manifested within me before, so why now? Unless it was a trick brought on at the Night Market.
“There.” The woman finished bandaging my hand. “If anyone asks, say you got too close to the fire and burned your hand. It will be better in a few days, but don’t let anyone look at it closely, lest they ask too many questions.”
“I have coin,” I offered, reaching for my coin purse to thank her.
She shook her dark head, sending the silver earrings that dangled from her earlobes dancing.
She was older than I thought, eyes aged with wisdom.
She spoke softly but her voice carried an undercurrent of power and confidence.
“I have no need of coin from you.” She studied me, mouth tight.
“If you are who I think you are, it’s best to keep quiet. This never happened.”
A chill went down my spine, I wanted to snatch at her sleeve, beg her for answers. “What did you see?” I urged.
“Magic,” she whispered, her voice almost a hiss. “Mirror Magic. It is forbidden as you well know. It’s best to suppress it, hide it.”
I held her gaze, again struck by her lack of fear. She wasn’t calling the guards or threatening to turn me in. Did it mean she was a friend? Or a worshiper of the Wicked Prince? “You sell mirrors, which are illegal, but you aren’t afraid. You know how to recognize Mirror Magic—who are you?”
A faint smile crossed her lips. “I am a seer, a seeker of truth. You saw what you wanted to see in my booth, but understand this truth. Nothing I sell is illegal, but what I do sell speaks to the magic that is already within you. I come at the time of change, and when I set up my booth, I felt a shift in the air, the knowledge that someone needed my help. I didn’t expect it to be you . ”
I eyed her, contemplating my next words carefully, aware that this could all be a trick, a trap. My father would never fall for such nonsense. “Will you help me?”
She touched her neck as though wiping away the ghost of a noose. “I can’t help you.”
I narrowed my eyes, frustrated at her contradiction. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Even if we met in secret, even if I told you what I know, we’d both be slain. It’s better to run, to live your life in hiding.”
My jaw clenched.
The seer held up a finger, stopping my next words. “It is rumored that there are tunnels underneath the palace.”
“How do you know about the palace?” I asked.
The seer held my gaze. “If you wish to keep your life, escape through the tunnels and go where they are afraid to go. For the closer you are to danger, the further you are from death. Keep moving, that is my only advice for you, I will say no more for you are a stranger.”
The words she didn’t say rang much louder in my ears. My fingers shook as I stood, aware that she had no reason to keep my secret. If the Venators appeared, she could call for my arrest, they’d force me to perform magic, and even my father could not save me.
I moved to leave but hesitated. “Can it be controlled?”
She gave a slight shake of her head. “Those who knew how to control it, to wield it, have been slain.”
I slipped away, doubts rising in my mind as I stepped back into the crowd. When I glanced back at the seer’s booth, it wasn’t there, only a table with cheap baubles and trinkets.
Doubts crowded my mind. The market was a place of illusions and tricks.
I’d touched a mirror, and it had exploded, but was it truly something within me, or a trick the seer had played, to tempt me, to trick me, to make me run, to weaken the kingdom?
Father often said that spies and usurpers lurked everywhere and would use any means to steal the kingdom, to take what he’d built and bask in the glory of it.
Still, I couldn’t help glancing back one last time, standing on my toes, but the seer and her tent of tricks had vanished as though it had never been.
“There you are, Esmira!” Rhea whispered low. She grabbed my arm, fingers grazing the bandage.
“What happened?”
“I got too close to the fire dancers and got burned.” The lie slipped easily from my lips. “A kind woman at a nearby booth bandaged it for me.”
“You’re shaking.” Concern laced her tone. “Should we go back?”
I pulled my arm out of her grip. “Don’t be silly, we’ve come all this way. Let’s enjoy the night. I don’t even feel it anymore.”
I felt Rhea’s dark eyes on me, and then she laughed. “You’re right, we’ve barely begun. Come, I want to get more elderberry wine and cinnamon pastries.”
I hooked her arm through mine. “Wine, now that’s reasonable, and then I want to see the snake charmers.”