Page 17 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
The trembling became impossible to control as the Captain of the Venators stood to his feet and held up the vial of my blood. “Princess Esmira has been found, just as the king commanded. However, she is harboring Mirror Magic and might even be the traitor who released the Wicked Prince. This is proof that she betrayed us all.”
My mouth went dry as I watched my blood in thevial. At first it had been crimson but now it shifted, turning silver.
Shocked rippled across those gathered. Hands shifted to belts and whispers went up.
“Mirror Magic.”
“But it’s the Princess.”
“Rules are rules.”
“What a witch.”
“She is responsible for our suffering.”
“How could she betray us?”
“It’s always the ones who pretend to be innocent.”
“We should kill her.”
“Slit her throat before she can harm us.”
The Captain turned back to me, a grim smile on his face. Then he turned back to his men. “She is a prisoner and will be taken back to the king for judgment. Have no fear, just as he did with the queen, he will have her executed.”
My mind whirled, and even though I was surrounded by Venators a darkness flickered at the edges of my vision. Something visceral rose inside. Had my father executed my mother? No. It was impossible. A lie the Captain told to get a rise out of me. The tingling in my fingers grew stronger and I rose on my knees, a wail bursting from my throat.
“Tie her up, we ride for the palace,” the Captain commanded.
The circle of horses broke. One of the Venators came forward with a rope and roughly tied my hands behind my back, unmindful of the knife cut onmy arm. My skin burned as it rubbed against fabric, blood ruining my gown.
Tears filled my eyes. I wasn’t strong, not like the prisoners who were rounded up, captured, tortured before execution. A need to beg for my freedom rose even though it would be worthless, and magic, what good was it if I didn’t know how to use it?
The air in front of me flickered then waved. A shape took form, but this time it wasn’t the black shadow but a mirror. In the reflection I saw myself, kneeling on the ground, blood matted on my head, hands bound. Behind me stood a few Venators who’d dismounted.
The mirror hung, suspended in the air. Mist rolledover it and suddenly out climbed a dark figure, a shadow. Except as it pulled back the cowl of its velvet cloak, baring its head, I recognized Methrin and his face was murderous.
The moment he stepped out the mirror vanished, leaving only a trace of smoke and the scent of umber.
Something long sparkled in his hand and a low growl came from his throat. He charged one of the Venators and blood went flying. The warm arc of it splattered across my face as Methrin attacked the Venators. I heard myself screaming as everything descended into chaos.
The Venator behind me went for his dagger but I was already scrambling away. Air whistled as he swung at me, the knife catching, ripping my skirt. The sharp edges scraped against my skin and I fell to my knees again, off balance without my arms to support.
Get up. Get up.
Salty tears ran down my cheeks as I struggled to move, understanding the struggle against life and death. I’d never been near battle, hadn’t seen blood drawn in such a violent manner. And Methrin himself was more terrifying than any of them. He pounced on the Venator who’d attacked me, and I ducked as more blood splattered.
Groans surrounded me, weapons clashed and cries of death erupted across the meadow, shattering the peace. The air was thick with death, ruined by it, and in my panic I stumbled over my two feet, desperate to flee from the horror, from bloodshed and battle.
I’d barely made it up the bank when it all stopped, leaving a ringing in my ears.
A hand grabbed my bleeding arm. I screamed and kicked out, but powerful arms yanked me against a hard body.
I looked up into the furious face of Methrin. His eyes blazed gold, and there was such fury in them I thought he might burn me alive. Something shiny dropped from his hand and I followed its trajectory to the ground. It was a long, jagged piece of the mirror covered in gore and blood.
My stomach roiled as he yanked the rope off my hands, still holding me tight.
“Never leave my side,” he snapped. “Never!”
