Page 132 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
A new and far more terrifying predator.
The creature's eyes raked over Quinn’s necklace, staringcovetingly at it as it waltzed out of its cage and formed into the brunette woman.
Neither mirror spoke, and Quinn didn’t have any words.
“You have come for my paintings, Daughter of Blood Glass.” Her voice was like a beautiful white swan. Enchanting and dangerous. “There is only but one trade, but are you brave enough?” she asked, waving her arm as seven paintings appeared.
Shockingly, they looked normal and as if they were created seven hundred years ago. They were small, the size of two books lengthwise. If she rolled them up, she’d be able to hide them under her skirt.
Three of them were familiar. One was a dancer from the Viridian—Constance, or Seren—and another was Emrys’s second.
Quinn finally answered. “What’s the trade?”
The mirror slowly blinked and cocked her head like a snake. “A soul.”
“No,” Quinn breathed.
A petal wilted and fell from the girl's temple. “It’s the only way.”
“I’ll give something else, anything else.” Quinn’s voice shook.
“Only the soul trade is sufficient.” The creature’s voice was a wicked enchantress.
Quinn bristled, and the chambers of her heart filled with petrified wood chewed by termites. There was no way Quinn would trade her soul to a mirror. “I won’t give you my soul. There has to be something else.”
“You misunderstand me, girl.” The mirror cocked its head. “The Accords require a soul trade, not me.”
“A soul?” Quinn’s voice decayed like the ruins outside.
It was the worst trade imaginable. Her soul was the only thing she truly owned. The one thing that was undeniably hers. The only thing she had true control over. Quinn trembled, her body convulsing under the weight of this decision.
Either she gave up her soul or her friends’ lives. It was an impossible choice.
“What happens when a person trades their soul to a mirror?” she asked.
“The soul inhabiting the current mirror is freed, and the person trading their soul takes their place.” It was Blood who answered.
Quinn swallowed, the knot in her throat tightening. “Instantly?”
“Not necessarily,” the puzzle mirror said, the pieces of her eyebrows creasing together.
It didn’t have to be instant. So, it was possible for Quinn to trade her soul at a date in the future. If she could set it so she’d have a long life, possibly trading wouldn’t be all that terrible. Yes, it would be horrible to end up in a mirror regardless, but the alternative was allowing the people she loved to die.
Allowing Giselle to die.
The image from the Mirror of Terror flashed into Quinn’s mind. Clutching Giselle’s lifeless body, blood dripping in a sea around her. Imprisoning her in endless sorrow. Her mouth ran dry, and her spirit ached. Giselle was the one person who always had Quinn’s back. She was family.
There was still one fear still yet to come true, and she would not let it be Giselle dying.
Quinn would never let it happen. She’d rather give up her own life to save her friends than watch them die.
This was the ultimate choice. There was no use resisting. She’d passed the point of no return a while ago. Quinn’s voice crumbled as she said, “I'll trade my—”
“No!” Blood screamed, cutting her off. “Quinnevere, you cannot do this.”
Every muscle in Quinn’s body felt weak, and she shook with fear. “Perhaps the bravest thing I will ever do is accept that I cannot control everything.” Her voice trembled with her body. “Perhaps all I can control is my mind and how I respond.”
“No, Quinnevere, you cannot give up.” Blood sobbed.
