CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The mirror was indeed a perfect match for the one in my study.
The same golden frame, the same feather engravings, the same foggy glass.
I sat in Corvin’s bedchambers, where I imagined he must have sat many times before in order to converse with me.
Or at first—just to listen. Because before we’d even met, when I’d thought I was pouring my heart into the uncomprehending depths of my own mirror, I’d really been pouring out my heart to him, sitting on the other side of this glass.
He’d shown up in my study when I’d needed him, and he’d been a supportive presence in my life ever since.
Now, we both faced the heavy burden of responsibility, but we had each other to help bear its weight.
My eyes passed over the raised, circular bed in the middle of the room, with navy-blue sheets and dark canopy curtains draped across its four corner posts.
I could see the book I loaned Corvin placed on the nightstand beside his bed.
And a strip of white silk, like the torn cloth of the dress I’d worn when we danced the morning away together in Kothia after escaping Rogam’s manor.
He kept a memento. I took another interested glance around his room before facing the mirror once again.
I spent many lonely nights in front of my mirror, pondering if I was capable of discovering what it truly meant to be the Midnight Sovereign.
I didn’t have to ask anymore. I knew—knew I was ready to step through that gateway.
To officially take on the mantle of my position.
I’d lit my lampposts, which would beckon visitors toward my cottage and convey I was open to midnight bargains.
I’d started to plant moonflower seeds in the realm, which would guide people to my island and protect them throughout their travels.
There was so much left to accomplish, but I was ready.
I would see the office of the Midnight Sovereign restored.
I would become as reliable as the moon. I would be a light through the dark, and most importantly, I would serve the people of this realm.
Nothing could stop me now.
My fingertips grazed the mirror as I conjured a mental image of my study back home.
Slowly, the glass responded, showing me a crystal-clear image of the room.
Not just a mirror reflection—a portal. This entire time, Corvin had been just a few footsteps away from reaching me, and we hadn’t realized.
“Thank you for helping me,” I told King Ravenell, who’d guided me to Corvin’s bedroom.
I turned back to the mirror, readying myself to step through its tall frame, the interior beginning to shimmer and liquefy as I exerted more pressure, pushing harder with my fingertips against the glass.
“Let’s go home, Nix,” I stated. “I have an inauguration ceremony to attend.”
Then I stepped fully into the mirror and tumbled, almost instantaneously, back out into my study.
Nix’s landing was a tad more graceful.
I ran down the hallway toward my bedroom, hastily throwing on a simple black gown.
Deciding to leave my hair half down, I braided only a section in the middle in a loose fishtail braid so that I could tuck a few moonflowers into my hair on the way out the door.
I stepped outside, pausing a moment before running toward the ancient oak trees on the island between which the gateway appeared every Winter Solstice, Nix running after me.
It was there.
I exhaled fully for the first time since returning to the island. The gate was still there—and it was stunning.
A rounded archway containing midnight-black double doors stood in front of me, tiny pinholes of light cut into the wood, twinkling like starlight.
Vines sprawled over the top of the archway, clusters of moonflowers blooming all along their length, glowing with the same soft, ethereal light as the moonstone inlaid across the gateway, depicting the cycles of the moon.
I approached the gateway with reverence, surprised to find Nix keeping pace with my stride.
I gave him a gentle smile. “I thought the gateway only allows one person through.”
Nix looked smug. “When has that ever stopped a cat?”
I snorted, but my heart soared. It felt right going through the gateway together.
After everything Nix had been put through, he deserved this as much as I did.
I tried not to think about how long it had been since he’d been able to attend the ceremony, how long he had suffered, watching the Midnight Sovereign being targeted, without being able to stop it or prevent the office’s slow decline.
As I gripped the door handles, each crafted from milky-white moonstone and shaped into a crescent moon, I uttered the words Kaylin first shared with me and pulled them open for us all.
For Kaylin. For Nix. For myself. The words were heavy on my tongue as I spoke them—words of power, words infused with meaning and promise: For you I walk the moonlit path at midnight.
Attuned to the password, the doors creaked open with a mighty groan.
Together, Nix and I stepped through the gateway—and into a dense veil of fog.
The fog twined and curled around me, its touch a soft invitation, beckoning me onward.
I wasn’t sure if the cloud of fog was to blame, but everything sounded oddly muted as Nix and I walked resolutely forward.
As we strolled, the fog began to clear a little.
Enough that I could tell we were walking through a forested grove.
The trees looked ancient, so much so that I couldn’t see the tops of their branches through the fog, no matter how far back I craned my neck.
The trunks were massive in circumference—so large it would take an entire ring of people holding hands to wrap all the way around the width of a single tree.
I’d never been so awestruck in all my life.
This was a place, a magic, that predated history.
Before people, there was the land. If my island existed at the center of the realm, then I thought this grove must exist at its very core.
It was a sacred place. A place where you could speak, and the land would listen.
The longer we walked, the more awe-inspiring the landscape became.
We crossed a natural stone archway, which crested over a majestic waterfall, its waters falling serenely so as not to disturb the preternatural stillness of the grove.
On the other side of the archway, lush green undergrowth muffled our footsteps, and as the tree line began to thin out, we approached a clearing, the fog finally lifting enough to take a look around.
My gaze was drawn first toward the gargantuan-sized tree stump, easily ten paces across, which filled the center of the clearing, its flat surface a natural sort of stage to stand upon.
A small set of stairs was carved into the base of the wood in each cardinal direction, providing a way up.
Like any stage, it anticipated an audience.
In this case, a set of ten regal thrones composed its seating arrangements, spread out in a perfect circle around the ancient tree stump.
The thrones were cut from granite—their appearance rough, like they had been formed, not polished by human hands.
Rising from the ground, gnarled tree roots anchored each of them in place, twisting possessively upward toward their armrests.
Veins of golden ore glistened and glittered within the granite, adding to the grandiosity of the throne’s appearance.
I counted them again. Ten. Which meant a new throne must have sprouted to accommodate the Sky Kingdom’s presence.
It also meant there was a throne for the Midnight Sovereign, for me, to sit upon.
Enough seats for the monarchs of all six kingdoms, myself, and the remaining three Fae courts—everyone granted a place in the audience.
A few of the thrones were filled already.
Momentarily, everyone would be expected to speak their vows to the land—the land upon which their kingdoms resided, the land upon which their people survived.
I looked around the circle, noticing with pride that Corvin was sitting on a throne, drawing more than a few looks of deep intrigue from the other monarchs.
He looked exceptionally handsome, with an ornately crafted crown upon his brow, a black-and-silver embroidered tunic pulled snugly over his broad shoulders and his wings fully extended.
I caught his gaze, and an admiring smile tugged at his lips, its likeness reflected on my own face.
I looked around at the rest of the monarchs in the grove.
Several faces I didn’t recognize stared back at me.
But there was one face, one face that was all too familiar—King Filvendor’s, the Fae King of Solaris.
After what he’d put me through during my visit to the Summer Palace, I wished I didn’t recognize him.
Or the winged lion, Lennox, standing guard next to his throne.
Still, even if I wanted to exact my revenge, this was not the time, and it certainly wasn’t the place.
The grove was not a place that would tolerate violence; I could feel that in my bones.
I decided to settle for holding my head high as I took a seat across from him in the circle.
My throne was easy to find, a crescent moon etched into its surface.
His eyes flickered to mine, and I met his stare, pleased to find he was the first one to look away.
Nix settled protectively at my feet, staring daggers at King Filvendor and his proud lion companion.