3. Esmira #2
Statues stood in attendance, some with wings like angels, others with bowed heads and yet others fine sculptures of the human body, giving worship to men, women, and children.
Aside from the human there were nonhumans with wings and pointed ears, teeth like wolves, forked tongues and fingers that were more claw than anything else.
Great chests overflowed with treasure. Golden coins, rich material, silks and cotton and wool, all untouched by moths.
I walked across rich carpets, my feet sinking into them, my fingers grazed feather stuffed pillows, thick blankets.
I spun, torn between giddiness and elation.
All of this wealth lay at the bottom of my father’s palace.
Did he know about it? He must. Were these spoils of war? Something else?
I reached out to touch a string of pearls, then at the last moment snatched my hand back.
If he knew about it, there was a reason he did not use it, because of who it had once belonged to.
But these were just treasures, objects from a long-lost kingdom, would it be terrible to take what I needed?
I was sure in the overflow of garments I might find silks to wear, a dagger to tuck into my boot, clothes to travel in.
All I lacked was food and a way to escape the palace.
Turning slowly, I surveyed the treasury again.
The iron door I’d come through was still ajar and on the other end of the room was another set of double doors.
There were also two smaller doors on either wall, but given their size I decided to take my chances with the double doors.
I crossed the room, trying not to be too distracted by the wonders it held.
With dismay I noticed that although there were great shields and armor, there were no weapons.
No swords, spears, or bows. Not even a short knife.
The double doors on the other side were blank, solid, which gave me hope. My fingers itched when I touched them but when I pushed on the latch, nothing happened.
At first.
When I tried again the heavy doors gave way with a groan, both of them opening halfway into a dusky room.
A pale indigo light hovered at the edges of it, less bright this time.
I hoped it was daylight but as I stepped inside a ripple of awareness coasted over me and my skin went cold.
For I hadn’t reached the tunnels that lead out of the palace, instead I stood in a hall of mirrors.
Gilded mirrors of all shapes and sizes filled the hall, some small enough to hold in my hand, large enough to lie on top of like a bed. Air shivered around me and a whisper beckoned me deeper into the maze. Come Princess. This way.
I followed obediently, walking among the mirrors like they were trees, examining the way my reflection stood tall, sometimes longer, sometimes shorter, other times shimmering like a distant ghost.
My true intentions drifted away, because it became quite clear there was no escape, no tunnels underneath the palace that would lead me to freedom.
There was only this, the treasury, the mirrors, remnants of a terrible past, a reminder of him , the Prince who’d been so vain, greedy, and selfish.
I had no doubts I walked where he once walked, admiring his reflection.
I should have been afraid but for some reason it was curiosity that held me in its grip. My footsteps came to a halt as I paused at the mirror in the very center of the room.
Gold covered the oval frame, but this time when I looked in the glass, my own reflection did not look back on me.
Mist covered the mirror, like fog over the forest, thin and wispy.
I stepped closer as though in a trance, hands outstretched.
The glass was cool under my touch with just a hint of condensation, like touching a window with the morning dew still wet upon it.
Shards of glass exploded as the mirror broke and a hand shot out of the mirror and grabbed me by the throat.
I stumbled back—or attempted to—but the grip on my throat tightened mercilessly, trapping my scream inside.
A muscled torso emerged, all pale skin, followed by a head of raven black hair.
The scent of sulfur smoldered in the air, fading as an impossibly handsome man stepped out of the mirror, his fingers wrapped tight around my neck.
He was tall, broad shouldered, his face all sharp angles, high cheekbones and deep-set eyes as dark as the night sky.
No, he blinked and they were violet. Eyes I’d seen before, watching me from the other side of the mirror.
Uncombed hair hung rough about his sculpture-perfect face, but it wasn’t enough to hide his pointed ears.
Not human, despite his physical similarities to a mortal.
He released me, and the force was enough to send me hurling backward.
I collapsed on the ground and lay on my side, gasping for breath, my throat too sore to release the scream that beat in my chest, like the wings of a trapped bird.
Get up. Run. The command shrieked inside me but it was too late.
G lass shattered, fell, then bare feet were beside me, fingers in my hair, lifting me.
I closed my eyes, willing away the nightmare. This could not be happening.
Cold hands touched mine and I yanked myself away, rasping, “Don’t touch me!”
He withdrew his touch but stayed hunched over me, studying me with intensity in those violet eyes. When he spoke his voice was strangely accented. “You released me.”
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice no more than a whisper. “ What are you?”
His lip curled with a touch of arrogance. Narrowing his eyes he examined the room, then stood tall.
I needed to get up, to flee, but my head was pounding, my mind whirling with impossibilities and fear. I gasped for breath, trying to get my bearings, my reasonings. What would my father do if he were here?
That accented voice floated to my ears. “I am Methrin, but it’s likely you’ve heard of me by my other name. I’m called the Wicked Prince of Mirrors.”
His teeth flashed. White. Sharp.
I was on my feet in a moment. Skirts in hand, I dashed toward the doors, kicking one of the mirrors in an attempt to slow him down.
It crashed behind me, sending a cacophony of thunderous booms as mirror after mirror collided and shattered behind me.
The roar of resounding noise made my ears ring.
My hands glowed like embers, the tingling so intense it felt as though they would burst into flames.
My slippered feet slid on glass and I tripped.
I threw my hands out to catch myself but instead of falling, I smacked into a sheer wall of glass.
Dizzy, I stepped back, bumping into another wall of glass.
I spun but there was another wall of glass, weaving around me wrought by magic I’d never seen before.
The prison of glass rose to my neck, then stopped, entrapping me inside its casing.
The Wicked Prince appeared on the other side, fingers silver, still glowing with magic.
A cruel smile covered his perfect lips. “You shouldn’t have run, someone will have heard all that noise and will come searching, which means we’re out of time.
I wanted to do this nicely but you panicked and fled, as all who hear my name do.
It is only right. But you have Mirror Magic, you came looking for me, I felt it from the other side of the mirror.
I suspect I need your knowledge and you need my help, so you’re coming with me. ”
“No, please don’t . . .” I started, but he touched my face, one finger on my temple, another along my jaw. Something rippled across my face, sucking, pulling deep, and I slipped into blackness.