Page 116 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
And the reporter’s body was still warm.
It was possible.
And she had a motive. All the vampires did. Maybe Constance didn’t like being under the restrictive Accords and decided to kill in order to free her painting.
It must have been in the first Blood Mirror. That’s how she’d been killing for the last nineteen years.
And she created more vampires.
It all pointed directly to Quinn’s best friend. Even the shooting star comment made sense. She could move faster than human sight could measure.
Despite knowing all of this. Quinn still wanted irrefutable evidence. Everything thus far was circumstantial. Constance could’ve been in the alley for an unconnected reason. But if they had her fingerprints, they might be able to match them to the crime. Maybe her past sample from the council meeting was manipulated . . . after all, Constance had access to the prints. She could have easily tampered with the evidence.
But to get a new sample, they needed to break into her rooms in the Courtesan Wing of the Viridian.
Quinn jumped up with ballerina reflexes and dashed up the street, but before she got far, Emrys appeared in front of her with worry swirling in his chestnut irises.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s Constance.” Quinn’s voice crumbled to ash.
Emrys stepped back as if slapped. “It can’t be.”
The words were echoed by her friends who stared wide-eyed at the unfolding scene. Jevon tapped his fingers on his thighs for comfort, and Giselle let out a low curse.
“It is,” Quinn breathed.
“You don’t understand.” Emrys reached out and clutched her hand. “The Viridian is a sanctuary for the lost and broken. Constance opened it with Kordelia to give people in desperate circumstances a safety net. She’d never kill your parents or Jane or even search for the Blood Mirrors. She has no motive. She wants vampires to be bound. Unless . . .”
“It's her.” Quinn’s voice trembled, and her heart thundered. “I remember her face. She was one of the vampires who attacked me in the ally.It’s her.” Tears rolled down Quinn’s cheeks like patterning rain. “I can prove it. We just need to break into her rooms at the Viridian.”
“I believe you,” Emrys said, stroking a tear from her cheek.
They entered the labyrinth of the Courtesan Wing, and everyone but Emrys was disguised as performers. Quinn wore a tutu that flowed like a river of feathers from her hips to the floor—like a peacock resting in a tree, letting its tail dangle in the wind. Her face was painted with birdlike makeup, and her hair dusted with blue glitter.
Giselle wore her acrobatic costume, and Jevon was dressed for temptation—or, more correctly, not dressed. He wore trousers and a white unbuttoned undershirt, exposing his ivory-muscled chest to the world. The outfit was complete with a peacock blue cravat and top hat.
Traveling through the Courtesan Wing was difficult because the walls and halls were enchanted. They twisted and danced, and none of them went where she thought they should. Every night, the corridors changed directions and played tricks on the mind. The closer anyone got to the Courtesan Wing, the more the walls danced and moved. Almost as if they were purposely trying to keep a secret—trying to keep people out.
After all, the wing was forbidden.
The task of navigating was made slightly easier with Giselle and Emrys guiding them.
The walls responded to Emrys differently than the rest of the group. They reacted like an old friend, coming to visit after years of being away. They liked him. Which is why he led the group through the twists and turns and magic.
Unfortunately, Quinn was the slowest of the group, having pointe shoes strapped to her feet. Giselle, being an acrobat, wore no shoes at all with her costume.
Five strides ahead, the group turned the corner just as a wall solidified in front of Quinn, trapping her away from her friends. She pounded to no avail. The Viridian hated her, and it didn’t want her to know its secrets—to be allowed into the depths of its soul.
“Dirty mirror.” She groaned.
Twirling around, she tried to get her bearings. Randomly, she chose a direction and started walking. At every turn, the walls shifted and obstructed her way.
Perhaps cursing at the mirror was a mistake.
The shadows tracked her movements, and it felt as if someone were watching her. But only curtains and an explosion of red greeted her. Continuing her path, she walked through three more doors with still no sense of direction. She doubled back and tried to follow the way she’d come, but it disappeared into dust.
“Hello, Cinnamon,” Emrys cooed in her ear as she jolted out of her skin. “Did you get lost?” Quinn slowly twirled around and stared up into his eyes. Transfixed. “Are you in need of rescuing?”
