Page 51 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
“When my father learned I had Mirror Magic, he gave me two options. Work with the sorcerers and healers in the palace to find a cure, or join the armies that secured the borders. I chose battle and blood because I wanted chaos and to test my power without limitations.”
Once again he was opening himself up to me, showing me the rawness behind who he was, the immortal, the prince. I copied his stance, holding my palms toward the water.
“The most important thing to remember is that you are in control. Mirror Magic is part of you but it does notcontrol you. Don’t let fear guide your magic, use it with intention.”
I closed my eyes, sensing the magic there, buds unfurling, waiting, ready to be used. But one thing I did not understand. Prince Methrin mentioned the shadows, the voices, yet when I looked within all I saw was a halo of golden beauty.
“Mirror Magic is rare here because it was not created by Nocthera, nor does moon dust or moon light enhance it. Instead, it is based off reflections which surrounded us. At any time you can make a reflection solid and pull a shard of mirror out to use as a weapon.”
My eyes opened in surprise. “Is that how you fought off the Venators?”
“It is. Weapons are always available, in fact, you’ll rarely need to carry a knife.”
“I don’t know how to fight,” I admitted.
I didn’twantto fight; my stomach roiled at the thought of seeing spurts of warm blood arching through the air again. I wasn’t aggressive, I’d fight only for self-defense, to protect myself and those with me.
As though he sensed my thoughts, Methrin added, “I will teach you enough to protect yourself, so if the Venators ever attack you, or an assassin interrupts your breakfast, you will know what to do.”
An iron determination came over me. That, I could do.
“Look out at the waters,” Methrin instructed, a warm cadence to his lilting voice. “Imagine a mirror, see it there, right in front of you. Reach for it with intention, not to shatter it or go through it, to take a piece, asharp shard, shaped like a knife. Hold out your hand. Take it.”
He flicked his wrist and something silver shimmered, blinking into existence. A jagged mirror sword. “Always envision a smooth hilt, otherwise you’ll cut open your hand, I’ve done it many times.”
Following his instructions I imagined a mirror. A silver outline flickered over the waters, but when I reached for it, it winked out of existence.
I refocused my mind, seeing the flares of silver, imagining the mirror in front of me. Again, when I reached for a shard of mirror, my concentration slipped and it vanished.
I tried again.
Failed.
And again.
“The more you practice, the faster and better you will become,” Methrin encouraged. “But only practice with me, and only at this time.”
“Why?” I asked after another failed attempt. Sweat beaded on my brow and my head throbbed.
“Mirror Magic drains your energy, sleep is the best way to rejuvenate.”
“Ah,” I grunted.
Steadying myself I focused again, erasing all thought from my mind except what I desired.
I ignored the incandescent beauty of the sky as night spread its wings, shuttering out the light. I ignored the rocking of the ship, the way the waves splashed up against the hull. I ignored the scent of salt and heat, the warmth from Prince Methrin beside me. Theache inside each time he spoke. The longing to feel his lips against mine. Again. Even though he’d just kissed me senseless.
A shadow flickered at the edges of my vision, a shape with ember-red eyes, its limbs nothing but inky ribbons, writhing back and forth. It floated above the water, moving steadily with the ship. A chord of fear struck, forcing me to yank a shard out of an invisible mirror.
Sharp pain laced up my arm. With a cry I dropped the mirror shard. It struck the deck yet stayed intact while blood bloomed across the jagged edges.
“You succeeded,” Methrin said, voice tinged in awe as he lifted my bleeding hand. “But there’s no hilt to your blade, hence the blood in exchange.”
My stomach churched as I looked at my palm, split open and bleeding. But when I met Methrin’s gaze there was no judgment in his dark eyes, only beguiling admiration.
A thrill went through me and my body warmed under his praise.
Cheeks flushed hot I turned back to the waters. The shadow was gone leaving only the rippling dark. Still, a chill shuddered up my spine and a question lingered. Was the shadow a figment of my imagination? My own dark reflection haunting me? Or the monster that Methrin had set free?
