Page 142 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
Jevon tauntingly raised the flame closer to the painting.
Tick.
Tock.
It danced along the edge, slightly browning the canvas paper.
Tick.
Tock.
Panic crawled up her throat and ate away. If someone didn’t stop Jevon, then Emrys’s painting would burn. Quinn begged her mind, her necklace, anything to fight the power.Please unlock and work like you promised, Mother. Please.You promised protection from Mirror-Blessed.
Quinn was so foolish.
She couldn’t fight vampires or Mirror-Blessed. She couldn’t even fight a textbook. She was weak, helpless, and alone. Her parents were dead, and her best friends were traitorous murderers.
She’d never be able to live in this immortal world and be enough. Quinnevere Ashelle was utterly useless, and she always had been. No one should trust someone illiterate. She was never going to be strong like Emrys or Giselle.
She was a mouse in a trap, whimpering as it died.
Quinnevere, I—a hollow scream played in her mind with the voice of an angel. She closed her eyes and let the pain flow away, and the world caved in on her. But that angel’s voice sang in her head to the melody of a lover and friend.I’m happy I got to know you.
Her eyes flicked to Emrys.
Terror licked her spine.
Jevon was going to kill the prince. Quinn needed to save him. She needed to help, and she needed to find the strength to fight the necromancer. Her body trembled, but her foot moved. Seeing it, Seren pulled a pistol out of her pocket and handed it to Quinn.
“I never wanted this to happen. Not all the death. I just wanted him back. I love him,” Seren whispered, seeming completely shaken by the devastation coating the room. “But I love you, too. I’m so sorry I can’t kill him, but—”You can.
As Jevon lifted the flame fully to the paper, the dam inside Quinn disintegrated, and her necklace burned on her chest. “No,” she shrieked as she ran forward and tackled Jevon. They fell to thefloor, and in the mayhem, she aimed the pistol at the largest part of Jevon's chest and pulled the trigger. Blood poured out of his stomach. In a blink, Countess Teagan restrained her and pulled the gun away, tossing it to the floor.
As if not injured at all, Jevon rose to his feet, cracked his neck, and turned his poisonous gaze on Quinn, blood still pouring from his stomach.
Oh shit.His power, at least the power that she knew of, was near instant healing.
“Give her over,” he said. The countess complied.
Fear coiled in Quinn’s stomach, and her snow-white hair fell onto her face. Jevon’s hands encased her neck and squeezed. “Actually, Prince, I think I'll torture your pretty little ballerina first and make you watch as I slowly kill her.”
Quinn’s breaths halted as the fire climbed her esophagus. Jevon’s fingers indented into her skin and her fingers clawed at his grip.
Her eyes scanned the crowd as she slowly choked. Constance and Kordelia were frozen statues holding each other’s hands. Kordelia looked like she wanted to rip someone’s head off, pure fury etched into her face. Giselle stood on the stairs at the side of the room with the princess and Francois. The queen was nowhere to be seen. Every face in the crowd was coated with its own mixture of terror.
The whole city was watching a massacre and could do nothing about it.
When Giselle met Quinn’s eyes, she slightly moved. Almost as if she was growing the ability to fight Jevon’s powers. In her hand was a crimson stone. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, she tried to reflect light.
Giselle shouldn’t have been able to move, but she was somehow fighting. That fixed Quinn with a resolve.
Her throat burned, and she tried to knee Jevon in his jewels. He released her neck. “Teagan, darling, break her wrist.”
The countess visibly swallowed, and with leaden feet, she forcibly walked over and snapped Quinn’s wrist.
Her hand hung sideways from her arm, and an agonizing scream escaped as she cradled it to her chest. Red streaks pulsated through her hair at the pain. Her fingernails were pure crimson. The agony echoed through her bones, and she wanted to crumble to the floor.
Tears leaked from her eyes, and her chest fell to her knees, one hand clutching her kneecap. Using the distraction, Quinn slipped the scalpel from her dress.
