Page 10 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
The side of his lips turned up. “It’s one of them.” He turned back to Jane. “You will remain silent for the rest of our adventure.”
It was a command, but was it magic?
Jane smirked. “As you wish, oh Terrifying One.”
Nightshade glowered, clearly not amused. “Now, you.” He angled his head, his gaze devouring Quinn like prey.
Snakes of shivers coiled over Quinn’s arms and legs. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and glanced at the exit again. Now that she’d actually met him, she knew there was something very wrong with Nightshade—something that verged beyond sinister, and Quinn needed to get out now. She turned to do just that, but the mirror appeared in her way again.
“You’ve come here to avoid getting bad luck, so what do you want?” Nightshade asked.
Quinn’s head felt hot and tight. She was way out of her depth. “How do you know that?”
“I am a god, little ballerina. The things I know would rattle your bones and rip apart your heart.”
Okay, that was it. This was a terrible mistake, and Jane was unhinged. “I think I should leave now.”
A muscle in his jaw feathered. “If you leave now, you willincur the seven years of bad luck, and you and I both know that you wouldn’t make it into the ballet if that happened.”
Quinn’s lungs burned. She didn’t want to follow in her uncle’s footsteps as a medical examiner. She liked corpses because they didn’t talk back, because they had no emotions, and because they were simple and scientific, but she didn’t like them that much. She loved science and medicine, but herlife was dance.
“Fine.” Quinn gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath. “What do you offer?”
“What do you want?”
She wanted to trade for a spot in the Queen’s Royalle Ballet but imagined the cost would be far too much, especially from Nightshade. She wanted to dance, but she also didn’t want lifelong consequences from it, like diamond eyes or frozen hair—like the infamous Harlowe Merriwether. “Aren’t you going to offer to make my dreams come true? To give me unending beauty or eyes that make everyone fall in love with me or a life filled with no pain or wealth that won’t dry up or magic or something?”
A wicked sneer climbed up his face. “I could give you all those things, but why would I offer you any of that when I know you wouldn’t accept it?” He cracked his neck almost as if irritated with how much of his time she was wasting. “You’ve come here, so what doyouwant?”
Quinn curled her toes in the grass, trying to ground herself, and she asked a question instead of answering his. “Is Jane truly your friend?”
“Yes.”
“She pulled me in here so I wouldn’t get horrible consequences.”
Jane opened her mouth to respond, but Nightshade narrowed his eyes at her, and she closed her mouth.
“Interesting. That would depend on how well you can bargain.” Nightshade’s answer was a slither, like a snake homing in on its prey. The words were friendly enough, but the tone promised poison. “What is it you want?”
She didn’t know what to say or what she desired other than to get this horrible rite over with.
“What do you want?” he asked again, spinning his words into an enchantment that latched onto Quinn’s soul.
It was like he reached out and grasped at her deepest desires. “I want to have emotional expression in my dancing, but I am not willing to pay the cost and the consequences for that.” She crossed her arms protectively over her chest.
Nightshade rubbed his chin in thought while glaring at her. His concentration was so fierce, like a visceral pulsating thing, that she refused to move or speak a word to interrupt it.
Eventually, he said, “Here is the only deal I will offer you. I will give you the ability to express emotion in dance. I will give you such incredible artistry that no one can look away—even better than Jane once had—if and only if you passionately kiss the prince you despise so much before the stroke of midnight.”
“Nightshade, what are you doing?” Jane cut in, her eyebrows crinkling.
“Quiet, Red,” the god growled.
Jane threw her hands up in mock surrender but said under her breath, “I thought you two had settled your issues.”
Issues?With Emrys? Why?
“Anyway, Quinnevere”—Nightshade’s voice was rough whiskey—“kiss the prince with passion, and I will give you everything you want.”
