14. Esmira
ESMIRA
“ S ilver!”
“Silver!”
“Silver!”
The chant roared through the chamber as the floor opened and something that looked like a mirror rose.
It was gilded with bronze, oddly similar styling to the mirror I’d freed Prince Methrin from.
But instead of glass, a silver substance oozed in the middle.
It twinkled like starlight yet mist curled from it and I wondered if it were viciously hot or cold.
My heart sank as Methrin unfastened his cloak and tugged off his shirt.
He removed his boots, belt, and stood in just his pants, jaw working, fists clenched as he faced the silver liquid.
I was on my feet in a moment, hands squeezing the railing.
I wanted to yell for him to stop, certain the silver liquid would destroy him.
The chants of the Everminati increased, feet pounding the floor.
If he went through with this madness, he’d leave Lyra and me in the hands of the Everminati. I knew nothing about them, whether they were truly cruel as the legends told.
Now I saw Methrin in a different light, saw him for what he was, the same as myself. Mirror Magic had ruined his life too. Instead of being hunted, he was exiled from his kingdom, sent through the portal to another world where he had to figure out what to do with his magic.
And he had.
Yet his story held many unanswered questions. How was Methrin responsible for the monster, both in the realm of the Everminati and the realm of humans? How did he cure himself so that he could return home?
None of it made sense.
Methrin backed to the edge of the stage and squared his shoulders. Then he took off at a run, hurling his body through the silver liquid.
The scent of burning flesh filled the room.
I screamed.
Bellows of pain sounded from within and then a moment later he rolled out on the other side, covered in liquid silver, smoke rising from burned flesh.
Lyra grabbed me as I lunged forward, screaming, fighting to reach him. Tears wet my face as he lay there, stunned, unmoving.
Even the king was still, watching. Waiting.
Methrin’s body twitched. A ragged breath came from his lips as he rose on all fours. He bowed his head, silver streaming out of his hair, dripping onto the stage.
Then, as though it took a considerable amount of energy, he stood tall. He faced the king as the silver liquid dripped from his body, every drop a reflection, like a mirror. As the silver left his body, his raw, burned skin began to heal.
Methrin lifted his arms, threw back his head and bellowed.
I sank to my knees, sobbing as the chamber erupted with shouts, cheers, roars.
Celebration.
They were celebrating .
Whatever horrible test Methrin had gone through, he’d passed.
T he banquet hall was loud, full of the Everminati dressed in clothes like moonlight, the females wearing gowns that shimmered with diamonds, while the males wore suits of silk and velvet, some black as night, others silver.
The dazzling beauty was overwhelming, as were the strange dishes, the decadent wines, rich desserts, and the long tables filled with laughter and the music.
I sat with Lyra, underdressed, inadequate.
Even though the guards had let us return, bathe and dress in simple silky gowns far too long for us, I knew I did not belong.
Lyra and I had not spoken of what had happened, but the truth haunted me because it felt impossible.
Everminati were ancient, ageless. If they spent decades finding the reason why their magic had vanished, it would seem like nothing, but to me it was a lifetime.
What would happen to my father’s kingdom?
Would the Boundary fall and the beasts run wild?
More concerning, what about the monster, the dark shadow that haunted the lands?
I wanted to find Methrin, to touch him, to see what they’d done to him. It looked like magic, even though they claimed magic was gone. He would have answers for me, why he’d been exiled for being insane. What was so dire about his condition that he was kicked out? What had he done?
A darker thought poked at the back of my mind, one of betrayal. It was possible Methrin had only used me to get back home. That’s why he’d been so protective of me and ensured my safety. Was I a means to an end? Was I nothing to him now? That thought scared me more than anything else.
But Lyra did not appear to have the same fears. She struck up conversations with those around us, weaving her way among the throng. Some ignored her but others stared at her with naked curiosity. When the dancing began, she touched my arm. “Do you mind?”
“Go,” I encouraged, although my thoughts wavered. No. Don’t leave me alone with these strangers.
How many times had I been alone while my father entertained?
Forced to dance with strangers, to hold myself as a princess, to let myself be seen, displayed, paraded like a jewel.
Here I was a silent shadow, a human princess in a world where I didn’t belong.
I stood to the side, watching, too upset to eat or drink.
“Esmira,” a low voice said at my shoulder.
I flinched, whirling to face whoever spoke to me so intimately.
It was him.
Prince Methrin stood beside me, the heat of his body so close my heart raced. Impulse drove me. I pressed the flat of my palm against his chest, surprised to hear the faint thump of his heartbeat. I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, warm amber, hints of vanilla and oak.
His arm came around my waist. “I frightened you, didn’t I?”
I nodded, unsure if I could form words without a sob escaping my throat.
“You frightened me too,” he said.
A throb of desire rose so thick I almost leaned into his embrace, almost folded myself against him. I held myself back, unwilling to let my fear, my insecurities, lead me to do something I’d later regret.
Methrin placed his hand on the small of my back, steering me away. “We should talk. Where is Lyra?”
I waved vaguely at the dance floor.
Methrin stilled, watching. “No harm will come to her tonight.”
Tonight ? What was different about tonight versus any other night?
He led me through the throng of bodies to a wide balcony. The light from within lit it, but outside it was dark, the air cool, the scent of wood and water strong .
Releasing me, Methrin walked to the railing and leaned over it, closing his eyes.
I took a seat on the settee and rested my arms on the railing.
It was too dark to see much, the shape of trees, the shadows of night.
Something flew above us, making a high, keening sound.
It was unfamiliar, different, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on what made this place different from home.
Perhaps it was just the music, the sound of festivities in the distance, and the cold, naked fear that plagued me.
“I’m sure you have questions,” Methrin said. “Ask.”
It was an invitation, but my tongue was twisted, unsure what to ask first. “What was that? The silver liquid you went through. It looked painful and yet—” I touched his arm, the skin smooth, unblemished as though he’d never been burned.
He angled his body toward me and a pool of light drifted across his dark hair. A slow smile softened his features. “You’ve never voluntarily touched me before,” he said, a hint of wistfulness lingering in his tone.
My face flooded with heat and I snatched my hand away, burying it in my lap as an ache curled. Why did I feel this way? “Did you know what was going to happen when we came through the portal?”
He sat down, facing me, his knee brushing against my thigh.
The slight contact sent a warm flush across my skin.
“No, I did not know what would happen. It’s been so long, I wasn’t sure who was king, if the empire had changed or how I’d be received.
The liquid mirror is a test. Those who are worthy come through the burning silver and are instantly healed, while those who deserve to die are burned until they are nothing but a pile of bones. ”
“That is terrible,” I gasped.
“I was given the choice once before, but I knew I’d die, so I chose exile over death.”
I sucked in a deep breath, now we were getting to the heart of it. “Why were you exiled over Mirror Magic? Is it forbidden here?”
What did it mean for me?
Methrin fingers ghosted across the silk of my dress, the repetitive motion both a comfort and a confession. “What do you know about madness and magic?”
“Lyra mentioned that many lose themselves to magic because they don’t understand their power, nor how to use it.”
“Magic is dangerous but Mirror Magic is the most dangerous of all, because of the lure. It shows you what you could become the more you use it, powerful, invincible, able to make your wildest dreams come true. But it’s all a trick, a dark reflection, because the more one uses it, the easier it is to become darkness, shadow, to unleash control. That’s what I became.”
My brow knitted. “I don’t understand what you’re saving. You went crazy because of magic? But you’re not that way now.”
“No, not anymore. Explaining it is difficult. Think of it like this, whenever magic is used there is an urge, an addictiveness to it and a lowering of standards. It’s easy to open a portal and step through to find someone, or pull a shard out of the ether to settle an argument.
But the more I used magic, the more wicked I became.
I became the monster that haunts the realms, seeking death and devastation, attracting war, enjoying blood and broken bone.
I was strong, too strong to be controlled.
I could stand against armies and not waver, I could march into battle and cleave down my enemies, my friends . . .”
He grew quiet and the weight of his words hovered between us. I waited for him to continue, watching his bowed head, his black hair curling around his neck, shoulders tight. A question budded: would I lose myself to Mirror Magic?