Page 20 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
“We’re here,” Methrin said as the horse came to a stop.
Seven days we’d ridden hard, myself behind Methrin, holding on tightly to him as the horse galloped. The saddlebags he’d taken from the Venators were full of dried food, water skins, and maps with locations pinpointed on them. Even though my feet no longer hurt, my backside was sore from long hours of riding, and it wasn’t easy to fall into a deep sleep at night anymore. We stopped twice a day to let the horse rest, and to eat.
Methrin’s challenge to understand my magic lingered in my mind. When I closed my eyes and focused, silver strands of Mirror Magic budded deep within, ready to grow. When I tugged on them they unfurled, beautiful, fragile, leaving me wondering what kind of sacrifice magic would demand from me.
Now,I leaned around Methrin, my heart sinking ascrumbling towers covered in ivy and cave-like tombs covered the barren, broken ground. The sky was more lavender than blue, and far above was a purple ripple. The edges of the Boundary?
The ruins blocked the view, but a sharp, burning odor stung my nostrils. When the wind blew, tiny cyclones of ash rose and resettled, carpeting the ground in grim black and white powder. A cold shiver went down my spine as Methrin dismounted.
During the war, beasts had destroyed the city near the Boundary with fire. Rumors whispered that evil spirits haunted the area while wild men possessed with devils lived in the tombs. Even the Venators did not go there and the army was stationed elsewhere.
“We aren’t going into the ruins, are we?” I choked.
Instead of answering my question, Methrin placed his long fingers on my waist, and I allowed him to swing me down. He did not take our bags from the horse, instead he walked forward a few paces, examining the land.
It was quiet, unsettling, until a sharp cry split the air.
I jumped.
Methrin’s head snapped up. “Vultures.”
Above us circled an enormous black bird, wings spread, floating on the wind. It was bigger than even the hawks trained by the palace guards.
“Stay close,” Methrin instructed, striding into the ruins.
My footsteps were heavy as I followed, sending a furtive glance over my shoulder. The horse nosed at thebarren ground for something to eat. Its life was easy, measured, it went wherever its rider demanded, guided by the reins. It was tempting to leap back on the horse and gallop south, but magic had ruined my life. My best chance at saving myself was to walk forward into horror.
Another vulture joined the first with a rasping cry. My heart leaped into my throat and I almost reached for Methrin’s cloak, just to feel something solid around my fingers.
We walked into the ruins, past crumbling towers and gaping openings hidden in shadow. Slitted yellow eyes blinked from one of those holes, watching us pass.
I bit back a cry when I saw it was only a cat.
Then something else loomed out of the corner of my eye. The shadowy apparition was back, closer than it had ever been, as though it had gotten brave.
Essssmiraaa, a snake-like voice hissed through my mind.
I gripped Methrin’s cloak, unashamed of my fear, and something crunched under my feet. I yanked my foot away, revealing bone shards. My stomach roiled but I tore my gaze from the ground, reminding myself to be brave.
Suddenly, Methrin’s hand gripped my arm and he tugged me up crumbling stairs onto a circle of stones. Facing north, he cleared his throat but did not release me. Nor did I want him to.
Seven days we’d traveled together and something had shifted between us, not a truce but an understanding. While I disliked being forced to rely on him, hisconfession of needing my magic ensured my safety. Methrin would not let beast or spirit take me away from him.
But it wasn’t merely protection that made me lean into him. There was something else about him that lured me closer. Perhaps it was curiosity, the undeniable temptation to walk into danger. He was immortal, Everminati, wicked. Everything I’d been taught to hate, everything I’d learned to fight against with all my might.
Except I didn’t want to.
Every time his skin touched mine, a surge of heat rippled through me. Worst of all, it was pleasant. I liked the sensation it awoke within and it left me longing for more.
Methrin took a deep breath and then he spoke. “It is I, Methrin, Prince of the Everminati. I have returned for your guidance. Please grant my companion and me access.”
The wind picked up, then quieted down. A gray mist enveloped us, darkness intensifying until the ruins were hidden. Waves of chill swept over me, damping my hair, skin, clothes. A howl full of fury echoed in the distance, answered by a second one. Closer.
Esssmiraa, hissed that same voice again.
Shapes moved through the mist, then came a shout, rather, a command. As I blinked the mist dissipated, although a gloom still hung over the area. Methrin and I still stood on the circle of stones, but others surrounded it, forming a courtyard. The ruins were gone; no, not gone but fully rebuilt. A series of towers, lookouts, andthe courtyard opened to a small castle, parts of it hidden from view by the trees.
Methrin took my arm and escorted me toward the castle doors. My limbs went weak, and I was grateful for Methrin’s firm hold, keeping me upright. Magic such as this should have been impossible. Had I fallen into a dream?
