8. Esmira
ESMIRA
“ W e’re here,” Methrin said as the horse came to a stop.
Seven days we’d ridden hard, myself behind Methrin, holding on tightly to him as the horse galloped.
The saddlebags he’d taken from the Venators were full of dried food, water skins, and maps with locations pinpointed on them.
Even though my feet no longer hurt, my backside was sore from long hours of riding, and it wasn’t easy to fall into a deep sleep at night anymore.
We stopped twice a day to let the horse rest, and to eat.
Methrin’s challenge to understand my magic lingered in my mind. When I closed my eyes and focused, silver strands of Mirror Magic budded deep within, ready to grow. When I tugged on them they unfurled, beautiful, fragile, leaving me wondering what kind of sacrifice magic would demand from me.
Now, I leaned around Methrin, my heart sinking as crumbling towers covered in ivy and cave-like tombs covered the barren, broken ground. The sky was more lavender than blue, and far above was a purple ripple. The edges of the Boundary?
The ruins blocked the view, but a sharp, burning odor stung my nostrils. When the wind blew, tiny cyclones of ash rose and resettled, carpeting the ground in grim black and white powder. A cold shiver went down my spine as Methrin dismounted.
During the war, beasts had destroyed the city near the Boundary with fire. Rumors whispered that evil spirits haunted the area while wild men possessed with devils lived in the tombs. Even the Venators did not go there and the army was stationed elsewhere.
“We aren’t going into the ruins, are we?” I choked.
Instead of answering my question, Methrin placed his long fingers on my waist, and I allowed him to swing me down. He did not take our bags from the horse, instead he walked forward a few paces, examining the land.
It was quiet, unsettling, until a sharp cry split the air.
I jumped.
Methrin’s head snapped up. “Vultures.”
Above us circled an enormous black bird, wings spread, floating on the wind. It was bigger than even the hawks trained by the palace guards.
“Stay close,” Methrin instructed, striding into the ruins.
My footsteps were heavy as I followed, sending a furtive glance over my shoulder.
The horse nosed at the barren ground for something to eat.
Its life was easy, measured, it went wherever its rider demanded, guided by the reins.
It was tempting to leap back on the horse and gallop south, but magic had ruined my life.
My best chance at saving myself was to walk forward into horror.
Another vulture joined the first with a rasping cry. My heart leaped into my throat and I almost reached for Methrin’s cloak, just to feel something solid around my fingers.
We walked into the ruins, past crumbling towers and gaping openings hidden in shadow. Slitted yellow eyes blinked from one of those holes, watching us pass.
I bit back a cry when I saw it was only a cat.
Then something else loomed out of the corner of my eye. The shadowy apparition was back, closer than it had ever been, as though it had gotten brave.
Essssmiraaa , a snake-like voice hissed through my mind.
I gripped Methrin’s cloak, unashamed of my fear, and something crunched under my feet. I yanked my foot away, revealing bone shards. My stomach roiled but I tore my gaze from the ground, reminding myself to be brave.
Suddenly, Methrin’s hand gripped my arm and he tugged me up crumbling stairs onto a circle of stones. Facing north, he cleared his throat but did not release me. Nor did I want him to.
Seven days we’d traveled together and something had shifted between us, not a truce but an understanding. While I disliked being forced to rely on him, his confession of needing my magic ensured my safety. Methrin would not let beast or spirit take me away from him.
But it wasn’t merely protection that made me lean into him.
There was something else about him that lured me closer.
Perhaps it was curiosity, the undeniable temptation to walk into danger.
He was immortal, Everminati, wicked. Everything I’d been taught to hate, everything I’d learned to fight against with all my might.
Except I didn’t want to.
Every time his skin touched mine, a surge of heat rippled through me. Worst of all, it was pleasant. I liked the sensation it awoke within and it left me longing for more.
Methrin took a deep breath and then he spoke. “It is I, Methrin, Prince of the Everminati. I have returned for your guidance. Please grant my companion and me access.”
The wind picked up, then quieted down. A gray mist enveloped us, darkness intensifying until the ruins were hidden. Waves of chill swept over me, damping my hair, skin, clothes. A howl full of fury echoed in the distance, answered by a second one. Closer.
Esssmiraa , hissed that same voice again.
Shapes moved through the mist, then came a shout, rather, a command.
As I blinked the mist dissipated, although a gloom still hung over the area.
Methrin and I still stood on the circle of stones, but others surrounded it, forming a courtyard.
The ruins were gone; no, not gone but fully rebuilt.
A series of towers, lookouts, and the courtyard opened to a small castle, parts of it hidden from view by the trees.
Methrin took my arm and escorted me toward the castle doors. My limbs went weak, and I was grateful for Methrin’s firm hold, keeping me upright. Magic such as this should have been impossible. Had I fallen into a dream?
The double doors to the castle burst open before we reached them, and a tall man hurried out, purple robes flapping behind him.
He was bald, bronze skin tightly stretched across his bones.
A snow-white beard fell almost to his chest and his clothing hung off his frail frame.
Long, knobby fingers shook, and his deep-set eyes were overlarge, pitiless orbs, almost as though he were blind.
“Lord Methrin,” he gasped. “How are you here?”
“Princess Esmira is the reason I am here.”
Dark eyes turned on me—so he wasn’t blind—widening in surprise. “Were you followed?”
“Not this far north, but they will come. They are hunting,” Methrin warned.
The white-bearded man lifted his gaze to the skies, then beckoned. “Come in, come in, these things are best discussed indoors, over a meal, a cup of tea or perhaps something stronger?”
His words sounded kind, welcoming even, but his tone was frayed with worry. Was this the sorcerer?
Methrin did not release me as he ushered me through the doors.
The castle opened into an entryway, double staircases curving up from either side to an open balcony. Statues stood in attention against the walls, suits of armor were frozen in time and stacks of dusty books lay to one side.
The man motioned toward the left, then led the way down a curved hall around to the back of the castle which opened into a kitchen, doors leading out into a garden with a view of the Boundary.
It was the closest I’d ever been, and my gaze was drawn to it, the aurora borealis hues of purple, the bolts of lightning cracking through it, dazzling beauty and magic.
“Sit, sit.” The man pointed to the round table, covered with scrolls, papers, stacks of books, a plate containing a half-eaten crust of bread, a rind of cheese, remnants of the runny yoke of egg and a mug, mostly empty.
Methrin lowered himself down and folded his hands on the table.
With trembling hands, the man put a kettle over the fire then went to the door and opened it, calling, “Lyra, we have company.”
I sat down. After days of travel, it felt odd to be indoors and sitting at a table, as though everything were normal.
The man sat down beside me and took my hand, pressing it between shaking fingers. “Forgive my manners, but you are the Princess of the realm?”
“I am Esmira,” I said. It would be better for all of us if my title were forgotten. “And you are a sorcerer?”
A faint smile came to his lips, disappearing just as quickly. “Once I was a sorcerer who served at the pleasure of the king, now I am nothing but an outlaw in hiding.”
He released my hand and I tucked it into my lap.
“Call me Rydlin,” he said. The smile dropped from his face as his attention shifted to Methrin. “I am surprised at your return. Tell me, how did it happen?”
I glanced from Rydlin to Methrin, recalling Methrin’s words from an earlier conversation.
The sorcerer hadn’t cursed him, and from the way the two sat across from each other as though they were old comrades, I believe it.
But what role did the sorcerer play in the past, and how would he help us now?
A sinking sensation came as I imagined hiding here . . .
Methrin sat back, his presence self-assured, a confidence blooming that I hadn’t seen before, as though the tension and stress of travel faded under the roof of an old friend.
“Princess Esmira set me free after discovering she has Mirror Magic. I felt her presence from the mirrorverse and when she walked the Hall of Mirrors the barrier that kept me from this world vanished. We fled the palace and have been traveling for weeks, however the Venators found us.” Methrin paused and a muscle in his cheek twitched. “Do you know of them?”
A curse left Rydlin’s lips. “Unfortunately. Someone with magic is helping them, supplying them with potions that give them the ability to follow the scent of magic. It also makes them immune to spells and gives them unnatural strength. Ironic how they use magic to fight magic. ”
Potions? My eyebrows lifted. This was the first I’d heard of the tactics the Venators used.
Then it struck me how woefully ignorant I was of my father’s work.
He intentionally left me blind and never welcomed me into his inner circle.
Was it because I was his daughter and he wanted to protect me?
Or because I was only a bride, valuable enough to secure loyalty from yet another kingdom?