Page 21 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
The double doors to the castle burst open before we reached them, and a tall man hurried out, purple robes flapping behind him. He was bald, bronze skin tightly stretched across his bones. A snow-white beard fell almost to his chest and his clothing hung off his frail frame. Long, knobby fingers shook, and his deep-set eyes were overlarge, pitiless orbs, almost as though he were blind. “Lord Methrin,” he gasped. “How are you here?”
“Princess Esmira is the reason I am here.”
Dark eyes turned on me—so he wasn’t blind—widening in surprise. “Were you followed?”
“Not this far north, but they will come. They are hunting,” Methrin warned.
The white-bearded man lifted his gaze to the skies, then beckoned. “Come in, come in, these things are best discussed indoors, over a meal, a cup of tea or perhaps something stronger?”
His words sounded kind, welcoming even, but his tone was frayed with worry. Wasthisthe sorcerer?
Methrin did not release me as he ushered me through the doors.
The castle opened into an entryway, double staircases curving up from either side to an open balcony.Statues stood in attention against the walls, suits of armor were frozen in time and stacks of dusty books lay to one side.
The man motioned toward the left, then led the way down a curved hall around to the back of the castle which opened into a kitchen, doors leading out into a garden with a view of the Boundary. It was the closest I’d ever been, and my gaze was drawn to it, the aurora borealis hues of purple, the bolts of lightning cracking through it, dazzling beauty and magic.
“Sit, sit.” The man pointed to the round table, covered with scrolls, papers, stacks of books, a plate containing a half-eaten crust of bread, a rind of cheese, remnants of the runny yoke of egg and a mug, mostly empty.
Methrin lowered himself down and folded his hands on the table.
With trembling hands, the man put a kettle over the fire then went to the door and opened it, calling, “Lyra, we have company.”
I sat down. After days of travel, it felt odd to be indoors and sitting at a table, as though everything were normal.
The man sat down beside me and took my hand, pressing it between shaking fingers. “Forgive my manners, but you are the Princess of the realm?”
“I am Esmira,” I said. It would be better for all of us if my title were forgotten. “And you are a sorcerer?”
A faint smile came to his lips, disappearing just as quickly. “Once I was a sorcerer who served at thepleasure of the king, now I am nothing but an outlaw in hiding.”
He released my hand and I tucked it into my lap.
“Call me Rydlin,” he said. The smile dropped from his face as his attention shifted to Methrin. “I am surprised at your return. Tell me, how did it happen?”
I glanced from Rydlin to Methrin, recalling Methrin’s words from an earlier conversation. The sorcerer hadn’t cursed him, and from the way the two sat across from each other as though they were old comrades, I believe it. But what role did the sorcerer play in the past, and how would he help us now? A sinking sensation came as I imagined hiding here . . .
Methrin sat back, his presence self-assured, a confidence blooming that I hadn’t seen before, as though the tension and stress of travel faded under the roof of an old friend.
“Princess Esmira set me free after discovering she has Mirror Magic. I felt her presence from the mirrorverse and when she walked the Hall of Mirrors the barrier that kept me from this world vanished. We fled the palace and have been traveling for weeks, however the Venators found us.” Methrin paused and a muscle in his cheek twitched. “Do you know of them?”
A curse left Rydlin’s lips. “Unfortunately. Someone with magic is helping them, supplying them with potions that give them the ability to follow the scent of magic. It also makes them immune to spells and gives them unnatural strength. Ironic how they use magic to fight magic.”
Potions? My eyebrows lifted. This was the first I’d heard of the tactics the Venators used. Then it struck me how woefully ignorant I was of my father’s work. He intentionally left me blind and never welcomed me into his inner circle. Was it because I was his daughter and he wanted to protect me? Or because I was only a bride, valuable enough to secure loyalty from yet another kingdom?
Methrin had started speaking again. “They know I’ve returned, likely word of it has gotten to the king and spread across the kingdom. If not, it will soon. I came here as quickly as I could, but Esmira does not know anything about my past or the work you and I have done together. The king of this realm has filled the heads of his citizens with lies. Some will benefit us, but most will make it . . . difficult.”
Rydlin rubbed his forehead as though in pain, his dark eyes studying me. “Ah, my dear, so you are, no doubt, perplexed by all of this. How, then, did your Mirror Magic manifest?”
I told him about the Night Market, my glowing hands and the Captain of the Venators becoming aware of my magic. I wanted to tell him about my mother, but at the last moment, I changed my mind. It was my burden to carry. Instead I explained how I was looking for the tunnels under the palace when I accidentally freed Methrin.
Rydlin stretched his long fingers, eyes darting back and forth as he listened. “Then you’ve heard the legend of the Wicked Prince?”
I dared not look at Methrin but my pulse ticked up. “I know the legend,” I said carefully. “Is it true?”
“Some of it is true, some of it is false, other parts are twisted. It is complex.”
Complex? Truth was straightforward, not complex. Before I could voice my thoughts, the back door swung open, bringing the earthy scent of herbs, flowers, and dirt into the room. The hearth flamed up and the room grew brighter. A warmth settled around me like a blanket and I sank into it, finding nothing but peace.
