Page 9 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
Unwritten fact.
Jane wrung her hands, and her sleeves fell down her wrist, exposing the small intricate tattoo of a stemmed-looking glass on the outside of her right thumb. Another secret. A Mirror-Blessed tattoo. When someone traded for magical abilities, the tattoo was burned into their skin.
Trading for magic wasn’t forbidden, but it was seen as taboo. So taboo, in fact, that groups of non-magical humans hunted down the Mirror-Blessed for sport, torturing and killing them.
A metallic sensation coated Quinn’s mouth. It was like she tasted ash and smoke. She thought she knew Jane, but she’d never mentioned being Mirror-Blessed. Technically, Jane hadn’t lied about it, but she also hadn’t been truthful either. They were supposed to be best friends—supposedto be honest with each other.
Jevon and Constance were honest about their Mirror-Blessed tattoos that they covered with mirror cosmetics—makeup that erased any blemish. If someone had enough money, they could buy them. While expensive, the cosmetics didn’t require a bargain from the wearer because once a mirror object was created, anyone could use it. Deep down, Quinn wondered if people who wore mirror cosmetics too often had unforeseen consequences like sunspots and wrinkles—faster aging. Mirrors were sick monsters. It would be just like them to create a product that forced a dependence upon it.
Had Jane used the cosmetics, too? Used them to hide secrets from her friends? With all these new developments, how much did Quinn truly know?
“This is going to be okay, I promise. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” Jane wrung her hands and didn’t instill the comfort she was trying to evoke.
Quinn gulped. None of this felt okay. “No, it won’t,” Quinn whispered, glancing around, trying to get her bearing.
They were in the center of a lawn with a sign that read,No shoes on the grass.Not wanting to anger the mirror minutes after entering its domain, she slid off her shoes and let the grass squish between her toes.
The garden smelled of sweet flowers and pure tranquility.
Butterflies pirouetted, and birdsong set a chipper and secure tone.
But was it a false feeling?
The hairs on Quinn’s arms rose, and a regimental drum pounded in her ears. Her heart worked overtime, palpitating, and causing her breaths to grow short and tense.
This was foolish. Jane was insane. Absolutely insane. This place was a trap. Turning on her toes, Quinn frantically searched for the exit. Thankfully, a door—the one they’d entered through—hovered over the grass, waiting for her to leave. She ran toward it but halted abruptly.
A figure appeared on the path in front of her.
“Leaving already?” A sinister smirk rose on one of the most beautiful faces Quinn had ever seen. “We haven’t even started yet. You don’t want to ruin all the fun.”His fun.
The Mirror-God raised a devilish eyebrow and crossed his muscular arms. Crow black hair shimmered in a ray of the rising sun, and his eyes swirled a liquid silver—the shade of a reflecting mirror. He wore black slacks and a white button-up shirt with the top three buttons hanging askew, exposing the top of his chest. His outfit lacked a vest, tailcoat, and cravat. It was utterly indecent for polite company.
The muscles in Quinn’s back clenched, and she ground her teeth to keep herself from saying the wrong thing to the villain.
He didn’t look evil, but sometimes evil came masked as pretty gentlemen.
Although he had unnatural eyes, the man appeared fully human. This wasn’t so strange. The murals painted throughout the city depicted mirrors as living creatures with humanoid features. And all the ones she’d seen staring out of their glass seemed humanoid, too.
But it was stillunsettling.
The mirror cocked his head, and his eyes examined her sideways, tracking from her red hair to her peacock dress and then landing on her green eyes. “Hello, Quinnevere Ashelle, a friend of Jane Whitfield-Wryte and the Daughter of Blood. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Quinn swallowed hard, her hands growing clammy. What did that even mean? He had been waiting for her? That meant he knew she was coming, and if he knew that, what else could he know?
“I—” Quinn started but was distracted by her necklace. It buzzed. The shard of glass liquified into a flaring crimson metal that swirled to a legato rhythm. It was a ballerina twirling on attitude. As it pirouetted, it spilled out of its cage—
But as soon as it started to morph into something else, it froze,reversed, and solidified into a ruby, almost as if something had blocked its magic.
“I do not allow other magic in my domain.” The mirror’s voice slithered like an asp waiting to strike. He’d blocked the necklace from becoming . . . what exactly?
What the holy fuck was happening?
“Nightshade, stop scaring her.” Jane folded her arms.
The god cocked his head like an eagle, amused but deadly.
Quinn’s heart raged as she turned her eyes back on the male. “Is that your name?” All the Mirror-Gods in the city had titles like Beautiful Decay. But Quinn hadn’t realized until now that they might have actual names, too.
