Page 180 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Aislinn nodded. “That’s a good plan. Hold on.”
She went back to the window and leaned out of it, distorting a few of the plants in the flowerbed below to look like they were twisted by magic. Luna jumped below when the bush she was hiding in moved, but Aislinn held up her thumbs, indicating that everything was all right.
“Should lend some credence to the idea,” she explained to Tiberius. “Why did you leave the window open anyway? Seems like a terrible idea given the circumstances.”
Tiberius looked at the floor. “Minerva knows which room is mine,” he said. “It was all I could think to do that might help her back into the castle.”
“You’d let your rampaging aunt in here?”
“She’s the only one who can challenge Mother,” he explained. “Most people won’t want a war—and she’s just broken her word. She promised Caerwyn safety. A broken promise can be grounds for usurpation amongst the dwarves. We do not take it lightly.”
“I can’t imagine Venus would take such an attempt lightly, either.”
“No,” he agreed, still staring at the floor. “She wasn’t always like this, you know. My father’s death—it changed her.”
Aislinn could understand how such a thing would. She did not want to imagine the version of herself without Caer in the world. But she also didn’t think that excused her actions, or Owen’s. She thought if she was willing to go this far, someone ought to stop her.
“I won’t hurt your mother if I can avoid it,” she promised him. It was all she could manage—a promise that gave her leeway.
“Thank you,” he said. “Now, is there anything else you need? My cloak looks rather good on you, I must say.”
Mercifully, Tiberius’ room was located quite close to the throne room. Aislinn slipped into another he assured her was empty, and waited there whilst he ran into the room and screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Guards, guards!” he yelled. “There’s someone in my room!”
Footsteps thundered down the hall. Aislinn waited until they’d passed before sneaking out, silent as a whisper. She moved towards the door behind the throne, following Tiberius’ instructions. It was a huge, metal door, iron in nature—constructed, no doubt, on the belief it harmed the fae. Half right, of course. It harmed the lesser ones. But Aislinn was a princess of Faerie and no metal could affect her unless it was fashioned into a weapon.
There was no keyhole, just a heavy lock with four small, numerical dials. Tiberius had given her the code earlier, but it took longer than she would have liked to open it. She wondered how long it would take before guards were sent back to the post.
She hoped no one asked how she had gotten in if she was caught; she did not want to throw Tiberius under the cart. She should have threatened him for the digits, even falsely. It would still give her a lie to wield.
Finally, the lock sprung open, and she stepped into the room.
Aislinn sucked in a breath. The room was cavernous—almost half the size of the throne room itself. The ceiling was lower than the rest of the palace, but it was stacked to the vaulted points with piles of gold and gems, mountains of jewels and crowns, gilded statues, weapons forged in gold and inlaid with stones the size of a baby’s fist. A dragon couldn’t boast of a bigger horde.
At the back of the room, in a crudely cut hole in the wall, was the dark, gleaming mirror.
Aislinn approached carefully, eyes held on this treasure above all others. The black waters of the glass murmured, whispering like waves on a shore. It almost had a voice.
She could hear it calling to her.
“Tell me what you are,” she begged it.Tell me what you’ve done to him.
Something sharp pressed into the back of her neck.
“Tell me whatyouare,” said the voice attached to it, “before I run you through.”
Aislinn swallowed, her breath tight in her throat. She supposed she ought to be grateful the person seemed to have come alone—although she must be skilled indeed to have snuck up on her.
“I’m disarming,” Aislinn said, moving to unbuckle her weapons.
“Turn,” instructed the woman. “Slowly. I will have your word, Faerie.”
“I shan’t promise to not fight back,” Aislinn said, “but I will turn slowly, and not attack you whilst I do so.”
Carefully, gradually, Aislinn turned, kicking away her weapons. Not too far out of reach. Just in case.
She met her attacker’s eyes, and the breath rushed out of her. The sword in her assailant’s hand shook, her eyes widening. She saw it too. Recognised something.
