Page 87 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
A wry smile passed her lips. “Quite.”
He practised the name under his breath. Niamh.Neve.Easy enough. He moved to go back to the picnic.
“Your Highness–” Niamh started.
“Yes?”
“Do let me know, if there’s anything you need.”
A dozen servants told him this every single day, but he knew this offer was different. This wascome talk to me,this wastrust me,this wasI’m here for you.
And she had been. Every single day since that one.
But not any more.
It didn’t seem possible that such a light could be snuffed out, that someone so bright could be extinguished in an instant, but she had been. The last bit of warmth, the faint remnant that had been left when Eirwen went, had finally dribbled away.
He could feel the cold again.
∞∞∞
The day passed in a haze. His mother spent most of it locked in her chambers, muttering to herself and rejecting all visitors. Cole knew he needed to get into that room, to work out who –or what– she was talking to, but the opportunities were scarce and his energy even less so. He felt like any warmth this cold place had ever held had been sucked away entirely.
The next day, he told her he’d take the rest of his meals in his room, and waited until she went for lunch. The door was guarded, but the servant’s entrance wasn’t. Niamh had shown it to him once.
The room was utterly quiet when he entered, stiff with silence. He walked around the room, testing it for hidden panels. At the far end was a curtain over a mirror. Cole had seen it hundreds of times and not thought much of it; it was one of the many treasures his mother had brought with her from Florin. It was only now he wondered… why did a mirror need to be concealed?
He pulled the rope. An impossibly pristine surface stared back at him. He’d never noticed the sheen of the glass before, like poured silver. He pressed his fingers to the surface. It was cold. A chill slithered down his spine.
“I don’t suppose you’re up for revealing any secrets, are you?”
Nothing happened. Cole turned his back.
“Hello, Prince Cole.”
He spun round. His reflection had vanished. A white face remained, like a paper mask, its eyes hollow and empty.
“What… what are you?”
“I am as you see,” said the voice, it was as deep and sharp as water. “A mirror.”
“Mirrors don’t usually talk. Or have faces of their own.”
“I have many faces,” the Mirror said, and the mask rippled, displaying a dozen different forms. “And many uses.”
“What is your primary one?”
“I can show you anything, if you ask the question. Your deepest desire. A way to realise your ambitions. The path you truly seek.”
“You helped my mother.”
“I have been her companion for over twenty years now. I may one day be yours. Tell me, Prince Cole, what do you desire? Would you like to know how to gain it?”
A flash of black hair, a sweet smile, eyes that burned like ice.
“I am uninterested in my own desires,” he lied. “Show me my mother’s.”
The Mirror smiled, morphing into an image of a red-haired man with a crown. It had been many years since Cole had seen his likeness, he had never quite forgotten it.
