Page 43 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
“Esmira,” a low voice said at my shoulder.
I flinched, whirling to face whoever spoke to me so intimately.
It was him.
Prince Methrin stood beside me, the heat of his body so close my heart raced. Impulse drove me. I pressed the flat of my palm against his chest, surprised to hear the faint thump of his heartbeat. I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, warm amber, hints of vanilla and oak.
His arm came around my waist. “I frightened you, didn’t I?”
I nodded, unsure if I could form words without a sob escaping my throat.
“You frightened me too,” he said.
A throb of desire rose so thick I almost leaned into his embrace, almost folded myself against him. I held myself back, unwilling to let my fear, my insecurities, lead me to do something I’d later regret.
Methrin placed his hand on the small of my back, steering me away. “We should talk. Where is Lyra?”
I waved vaguely at the dance floor.
Methrin stilled, watching. “No harm will come to her tonight.”
Tonight? What was different about tonight versus any other night?
He led me through the throng of bodies to a wide balcony. The light from within lit it, but outside it was dark, the air cool, the scent of wood and water strong.
Releasing me, Methrin walked to the railing and leaned over it, closing his eyes. I took a seat on the settee and rested my arms on the railing. It was too dark to see much, the shape of trees, the shadows of night. Something flew above us, making a high, keening sound. It was unfamiliar, different, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on what made this place different from home. Perhaps it was just the music, the sound of festivities in the distance, and the cold, naked fear that plagued me.
“I’m sure you have questions,” Methrin said. “Ask.”
It was an invitation, but my tongue was twisted, unsure what to ask first. “What was that? The silver liquid you went through. It looked painful and yet—” I touched his arm, the skin smooth, unblemished as though he’d never been burned.
He angled his body toward me and a pool of light drifted across his dark hair. A slow smile softened his features. “You’ve never voluntarily touched me before,” he said, a hint of wistfulness lingering in his tone.
My face flooded with heat and I snatched my hand away, burying it in my lap as an ache curled. Why did I feel this way? “Did you know what was going to happen when we came through the portal?”
He sat down, facing me, his knee brushing against my thigh. The slight contact sent a warm flush across my skin. “No, I did not know what would happen. It’s been so long, I wasn’t sure who was king, if the empire had changed or how I’d be received. The liquid mirror is a test. Those who are worthy come through the burning silver and are instantly healed, while those who deserveto die are burned until they are nothing but a pile of bones.”
“That is terrible,” I gasped.
“I was given the choice once before, but I knew I’d die, so I chose exile over death.”
I sucked in a deep breath, now we were getting to the heart of it. “Why were you exiled over Mirror Magic? Is it forbidden here?”
What did it mean for me?
Methrin fingers ghosted across the silk of my dress, the repetitive motion both a comfort and a confession. “What do you know about madness and magic?”
“Lyra mentioned that many lose themselves to magic because they don’t understand their power, nor how to use it.”
“Magic is dangerous but Mirror Magic is the most dangerous of all, because of the lure. It shows you what you could become the more you use it, powerful, invincible, able to make your wildest dreams come true. But it’s all a trick, a dark reflection, because the more one uses it, the easier it is to become darkness, shadow, to unleash control. That’s what I became.”
My brow knitted. “I don’t understand what you’re saving. You went crazy because of magic? But you’re not that way now.”
“No, not anymore. Explaining it is difficult. Think of it like this, whenever magic is used there is an urge, an addictiveness to it and a lowering of standards. It’s easy to open a portal and step through to find someone, or pull a shard out of the ether to settle an argument. But the more I used magic, the more wicked I became. Ibecame the monster that haunts the realms, seeking death and devastation, attracting war, enjoying blood and broken bone. I was strong, too strong to be controlled. I could stand against armies and not waver, I could march into battle and cleave down my enemies, my friends . . .”
He grew quiet and the weight of his words hovered between us. I waited for him to continue, watching his bowed head, his black hair curling around his neck, shoulders tight. A question budded:would I lose myself to Mirror Magic?
“They managed to capture me, and I stood trial, ironically similar to today’s trial. I was given a choice, face the mirrorverse or the silver bath. I chose the portal and a sorcerer cursed me never to return until I learned my lesson.”
