Page 119 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
“Really, you have nothing to hide?” Giselle scoffed, stepping into the room from the hallway. Jevon strode in beside her, tapping his fingers on his pants. The tapping became more frequent when he was upset, and his expression painted a thousand pictures of distress.
“Then explain how we just found this hiding in your bedroom?” Giselle held up the silver sequined dress between two fingers as if it were the plague. The dress was drenched in blood, almost as if it bathed in it.
Quinn clutched the wall, her knuckles turning white. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered and fell to her knees, her body crumbling under the weight of this knowledge.
There was no denying it now. Constance killed Jane. The evidence was unshakable.
Quinn’s body trembled and couldn’t make it stop. Everything was obscured with far too many useless feelings, and she didn’t know how to think anymore or find the reason. Constance didn’t just kill Jane—the closest person Quinn had to a sister—she also threatened Quinn—and had tortured and tried to kill her.
There were no words for that level of betrayal and heartache.
Quinn smashed her hands into her face, clawing at her cheeks. She hated emotions so much. Sometimes, she wished they could be removed altogether.
The second and third fears from the Mirror of Terror were coming true: public emotions and a friend’s betrayal.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
But more importantly, Constance was a monster and a murderer.Jane, her parents, the girl in the alley, the reporter.So many people died at her hands.
Quinn’s breaths quivered. “How could you, Constance? You’re one of my best friends. And all this time we’ve been investigating Jane’s murder together, you were responsible.”
Constance took a step back, her eyebrows performing a grandjeté. “Quinn, I haven’t been investigating Jane’s murder with you, and as much as I love you as a friend, I would never consider you my best friend. I only dance ballet with you and only sometimes. I mean, I haven’t even been at class in weeks.”
“I . . . what?” Quinn flinched, confusion lighting up her core. “You’ve been at auditions all week, haven’t you?” Was Quinn going crazy, or was Constance lying again? “I’ve been with you every day this week. I’ve known you for three years. We do almost everything together.”
Quinn held her breath, her insides melting into ash. Nothing made sense. Constance was her friend . . . her best friend . . . something was wrong, and Quinn didn’t think it was just an effect of the Viridian mirror anymore.
“Oh, well, that answers my suspicions.” A delighted smile climbed Kordelia’s porcelain cheeks. “Seren’s back.”
What the fuck did that mean?Quinn swallowed hot coals.
“The only thing that is relevant here is that you killed Jane and betrayed us,” Giselle said. “And we have proof.” She handed the pictures from the night of the murder over. “You were wearing this dress.” Giselle held up the dress between her fingers. “And it was found covered in blood in your rooms.”
“Like she would keep it in her rooms,” Kordelia scoffed.
Constance stared down at the pictures between her fingers, her face a stone statue, unmoving, and her emotions masked. She turned her gaze to Kordelia and said, “It would seem I must apologize. You were right.”
Without saying anything else, Constance handed over the photos to her sometimes-lover.
Kordelia—whose face was poison—glanced at the photos and said, “Yes, Seren is back and apparently more destructive than ever.” Kordelia pointed to the picture. “That is not Constance.”
“My camera,” Giselle started.
Kordelia held up a hand, silencing everyone. “Before you argue with me, just know that I am not foolish enough to mistake my lover’s twin sister for her more than once.”
“So, it did happen once?” Emrys raised a cocky, far too interested brow. “I’d love to hear that story.”
“And I’d love to put a knife through your heart. I know it wouldn’t kill you, but I imagine it would hurt quite a bit,” Kordelia purred like a hunting lioness.
Emrys loosened his cravat. “Maybe we can play that game another time.”
“Wait.” Quinn’s voice quivered. “Constance, you have a twin sister?”
“It would seem that her twin sister, Seren, has been impersonating her for some time now.” It was Kordelia who responded. “This one is Seren.” She held out a photo of Constance in a silver sequined dress. “And this one is Constance.” She held out the second photo, but this time, she was in a silver velvet dress that barely sparkled.
Constance lowered herself into a chair and sighed. “Your murderer is my sister.”
“Oh, holy mirrors,” Quinn gasped and stared at the photos closely, her heart rupturing. Lies. So many lies. She didn’t even know what to believe. Looking at the pictures now, even knowing that they were two separate people, it was hard to tell them apart. Quinn couldn’t find a single difference between them.
