Page 61 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Caer pinched a lock of her hair. “Ais,” he whispered, “you should—”
She shook her head. No. Not again. Not him. Notanyone.
I am the future queen of Faerie. I will not die here. This land is mine. This person—
The giant stumbled again. Something rushed through her—a feeling of being ripped from her skin, of the world vanishing to a pinpoint, of being sucked away. Noise flared in her eardrums. Sensation knifed through her.
And finally, mercifully, all went black.
Beauscreamed,hurtlingtowardsthe fallen giant and reaching into the earth once more with his magic, forcing up roots to lift the monster. His body shuddered and strained, the roots not strong enough,Beaunot strong enough.
It was hard to lift anything you wouldn’t have had the strength to do manually. For some magic-users, impossible. But Beau was a prince of Faerie, and Aislinn was his sister.
She couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t be. Even if she’d felt the full force of the giant’s weight, if there was just a scrap of life left in her, he could heal her. He could.
Magna pulled at his sleeve, but he paid her no heed, even as his muscles strained beneath the giant’s weight, his temple close to exploding.
“Lad—” Minerva started.
When he ignored her again, she moved towards the giant’s corpse and levered her axe underneath it, prying its body up one-handedly, her metal arm loose in its socket.
Slowly, the other dwarves limped forward, aiding her, pushing up with roots until the colossal body gave way and rolled to the side.
Aislinn wasn’t under it. Neither was Caerwyn.
Beau stared, head still pounding. He was sure, he was absolutely sure—
Magna continued yanking on his sleeve.
“What?” he asks.
Her fingers twitched into shapes and gestures, only a few of which Beau understood. Something about vanishing. He knew that much.
“I can’t… I don’t understand.”
“She’s saying…” Luna translated. “They vanished… under… a black sheet? Or a black sheet that looked like a door?”
A black sheet. A door.
Portalled. Aislinn had opened a portal.
Beau sunk to the ground, energy expunged. Flora rushed forward, pulling something out of her bag and lifting it up to his lips. He drank, though he wasn’t sure what it was. Couldn’t taste it, couldn’t feel it.
Portal magic was a skill that precious few possessed. He knew his father could do it—rarely, under great care. It took him hours until he could refill his energy enough to create another one. The first time Hawthorn had done it, he’d only managed it because he’d just ripped the magic from an evil fae. He’d still almost passed out.
And Aislinn… Aislinn’s magic energy reserves weren’t as high as his. Not by half.
She’s with Caer,a voice reminded him.Wherever she’s transported them to, she isn’t alone.
He prayed she’d had the sense to transport them back to Acanthia, but given her desperation and panic—and the fact that the further away a destination was, the harder it was to portal there—he didn’t think it was likely.
“She can’t be too far away,” he muttered, the rest of the dwarves still crowded around him. “She wouldn’t be able to—she’s nearby.”
He stood up abruptly, his head spinning. It felt like a ball of lead on a column of rubber.
“Steady, steady,” Flora chided, grabbing his elbow and forcing him back to the floor. “Just rest for a bit. Save your strength.”
Hecate appeared from nowhere, winding her way around Beau’s legs. She hopped onto his lap and Beau squeezed her, burying his face in her fur. His breathing started to slow.
