Page 192 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
He turned to take out another influx of soldiers arriving at the other end of the alleyway, weaving vines across the opening in a black, thorny cobweb. Caer’s eyes widened, twitching under this display.
“Mother!” Aislinn called.
Caer wheeled around. Most of the guards were dead, unconscious or contained, but a few still remained standing. Juliana and Aislinn blurred through the air, lightning-fast, a whir of blades. Their backs snapped together, their movements mirrored.
“Get down!” Juliana hissed.
Not even questioning it, Aislinn hit the floor and rolled away. Her mother swung her blade towards her opponent, but he caught the blade in his hands.
“Juliana,” said Dillon.
Juliana froze. She did not withdraw her blade. Neither did she attempt to strike again.
“You’re not him,” she said finally, eyes unmoving, face hard despite her shining eyes.
“I assure you,” he followed, “I am.” He dropped his hands away, but she kept the sword pointed at his throat.
“The last thing you said to me,” she said, “as we were lighting the rockets. What were we talking about?”
“You and Hawthorn,” he said steadily. “I was trying to get you to admit that you liked him, and that he was worth liking.”
“You did?” Hawthorn piped up from the side. “Oh, Dillon, thank you. I knew I always liked you. I’m really sorry about that time I—”
Juliana dropped her sword, her hands shaking.
“It’s you,” she breathed. “It’s really you.”
She bolted straight into his arms, burying herself in his neck. “I missed you,” she whispered, half sobbing. “You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”
“I have some idea. There’s a lot to explain.” He pulled away from her. “Come. There’s someone else you need to meet.”
“More important than you?”
“I would say so,” he said, smiling.
“Who—”
“Julie,” said a voice from the other end of the alley—a voice like strangled strings, like a beautiful instrument poorly played. “Juliana.”
Juliana turned, her eyes widening. She looked to Aislinn for confirmation, some proof that she was seeing who she was really seeing. Aislinn, however, could only nod.
Juliana did not bother asking how this was possible, or why Cerridwen looked so alive when Dillon didn’t. She took a tentative stretch towards her, hand outstretched, like a child learning to walk for the first time.
Cerridwen clutched onto that hand, and the arm that followed, and then the two collided in the alleyway, a mass of arms and tears and a strangled, sobbing voice, over and over, “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”
Theyreturnedtothesafehouse where Juliana was apprised of everything, and they finally sat down to discuss their options.
“Our troops are now dispersed about the city,” Juliana explained, and placed a shiny coin on the makeshift table Magna and Diana had constructed from bits and pieces they’d salvaged in the house. “Awaiting further instructions.”
The dwarves stared at the coin. “Does it do something?” asked Bell.
Juliana smiled. “There’s an inscription around the side. If I alter this one, the rest of them change too. They also grow hot or cold depending on how close a person is to their target.”
“Oh, I like that!”
Minerva thumbed her chin. “You say ‘troops’, but how many are we talking about?”
“Ten,” Juliana admitted. “We thought we’d never get more than that through the doors. They are highly armed, however. Some have magic, some do not.”
