Page 14 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
“That’s not how you use it.”
I startled as a shadow moved before me. Methrin.
I dashed my tears away with the back of my hand. Had he seen them?
Methrin yanked the pillow from my hands.
“What are you doing?” I yelped.
He pulled something on it, and the pillow exploded, expanding until it became twice the size, then three times and finally, as long as myself. A bed to sleep upon.
“Better?” he asked, tone smug.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
I was a fool.
My father’s army carried hammocks or bedrolls made from a similar magical material that expanded and condensed, easing the roughness of travel. I lay down on it and my weary body sank into softness.
Twice now, the Wicked Prince of Mirrors had been unusually kind to me, but I couldn’t, shouldn’t trust him.
Something followed us.
It appeared on the edges of my vision, a black vestige shrouded in a dark cloak. Whenever I turned my head to see what it was, it disappeared. It made me nervous and I quickened my pace, moving closer to Methrin. He, annoyingly, kept his face forward, glancing neither to the left nor right.
As the days passed I was hesitant to bring up the apparition with him. Once darkness fell it disappeared, leaving me wondering if I suffered from the effects of magic and the light played tricks on me. Or was it after Methrin?
One golden hued afternoon, the wind whispered with urgency as we walked the rise of a hill. At the top the land dropped and I caught my breath as I took in the kingdom. Rolling hills swelled, but in the valley glittered a wide river. A bridge—large enough for an army to march across eight in a row—spanned high over the river leading into a city.
I’d never been to one, but I’d listened to my father’s guests talk of the places they stayed while traveling to the palace. The inns full of lively music which served thick stews, dark wines, and bold beers. Gaming halls where dice were rolled, cards were played, and fortunes won and lost.
Pointed rooftops decorated the city, smoke curlingfrom chimneys, shadows hinted at the shapes of people in the streets. I imagined the rise and fall of voices, children laughing, dogs barking and the energy of life that surrounded a city. A need rose so thick it coated my throat and made it impossible to speak. Homesickness curled around me.
I missed Rhea, her spunk and her easy laugh. Was she worried about my disappearance? Pestering my father to search for me?
I missed morning walks in the garden listening to the birdsong. I longed to browse the library, flipping through books filled with histories concerning the war, the Boundary and monsters.
Most of all I missed the security of the palace where I had no concerns, no worries, all my needs were met. I’d taken my life for granted.
A glow came from my hands as visceral feelings rose. Why did magic have to ruin everything?
“At last,” Methrin said. “The Elarin River which splits the kingdom in two. It flows ever south, but we will follow it north to the Boundary.”
The Boundary. The last place I wanted to go, other than Prince Orim’s future kingdom. A lightning bolt of anger tore through me and the apparition appeared on the edges of my vision, as though summoned by myemotion.
I ignored it. “How long until we reach the Boundary?”
“Weeks, unless we find a faster way to travel, but we must be careful, the river is the livelihood of many. We must avoid being seen and recognized.”
“Who are you afraid of? Who would recognize you?” I challenged.
He rounded on me and I stepped back, meeting those intense, violet eyes. During our travels he was quiet, excluding me from his silent musings. It irritated me that I was almost invisible to him. Why bring me along if he was going to treat me like baggage. The wilting power of his gaze intimidated me but anger tightened in my belly; this was the most attention I’d gotten from him since the boat ride.
“You recognized me, did you not?”
“I . . . yes. But the circumstances were different. You were in a mirror, in the palace.”
Methrin stepped closer. “You know I’m not human.”
