Page 46 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
I buried my head in my hands.
“Esmira? What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong, princess?a dark voice hissed in my head. Black ribbons flickered in my vision, and I opened my eyes, sitting upright.
Prince Methrin’s secrets were not mine to share, but I felt another deep foreboding as I answered Lyra. “Magic. That’s what’s wrong. Lyra, how much do you know about Mirror Magic and madness. Specifically? When we last talked about magic, you alluded to the fact that people who don’t know how to use their magic go mad. How does it manifest?”
“I’ve never seen magical madness,” Lyra admitted, sitting back down. “I’ve heard stories about it, all told by my father. He wasn’t detailed, he just spoke of the urge to use magic until it dries one up, like a husk. Magic has a cost, just like—like running, for example. When we run we get out of breath and need to restbefore starting again. Magic is like that, it takes our energy, our life force and drains us until we rest. The more we use magic, the more skilled we become, but unlike running, the recovery gets worse. It takes longer. Sometimes if too much magic has been used, there’s no recovery at all.”
My eyes went wet. So then, the long-term use of magic led to death. “That’s why all magicians are sent to the Boundary, to control it, but their magic doesn’t last. That’s why the Venators are hunting and the academy is training. But Mirror Magic is singled out. Anyone with Mirror Magic is put to death?—”
I let my thought hang there, finishing it internally. All of my father’s actions suddenly made sense. If he knew the truth, or guessed at the truth, he was deeply aware that Mirror Magic was responsible, and if Prince Methrin was released from his imprisonment in the mirrorverse, he’d return to destroy the kingdom with his magic. What my father feared was exactly what the Everminati feared, the reason they’d exiled him in the first place.
And Rydlin, the one person who could have explained the truth, had fled, wrapping himself in magic and hiding for two decades. With Lyra, his mysterious daughter, who was part Everminati, part human and happened to be the same age as myself. I studied her again, determined to figure out more of her secrets, even though I was unsure whether it would help.
I leaned forward. “Lyra, what happened to your mother?”
Her lips twitched, and her shoulders slumped. “My mother was human, one of the ladies in the palace. My father said they kept it a secret, since chaos was brewing. I was born shortly after the revolt, after Prince Methrin was lost to the mirrorverse.” Tears filled her eyes. “My parents were getting ready to leave when the monster came out of the wood and consumed her. Father couldn’t do anything to stop it. It’s immune to magic, weapons, everything.”
“Lyra, I’m so sorry.”
She sniffed, brushing tears from her cheeks. “I never got to know my mother because of it, and the fact that my father—a great sorcerer—could do nothing to save her haunts me. That’s why we started doing what we do, helping people escape and cross the Boundary. As far as we knew, the monster had not crossed the Boundary, although I assumed it is able to. But it’s intelligent, it has a plan, whatever that might be. My reason for being here is twofold. I want to know more about where my father came from, and his people. I also want to help slay the monster that killed my mother.”
Last night I’d sat with Prince Methrin, listening to his story and now I listened to Lyra. I felt closer to her too. Connected. Empathy was a new feeling for me.
“I think the monster killed my mother too,” I offered. “Or my father, but I hope . . . I hope it was the monster and not him.”
“Oh Esmira.” Lyra caught my hand and squeezed it. “That’s terrible. Your mother had magic then?”
“I don’t know the truth of what happened to her, and I want to go back and find out before her story islost. The Captain of the Venators taunted me about her, but I don’t know what kind of magic she had.”
“We have many mysteries to solve.”
“What kind of magic did your mother have?”
Lyra stood, hugging her arms around herself. “My father wouldn’t confirm, but I believe she had Mirror Magic.”
I went cold. “But you don’t have Mirror Magic.”
“No, remember, magic isn’t passed through bloodlines.”
“If she had Mirror Magic, why didn’t she free Prince Methrin?”
“I don’t know,” Lyra said softly.
“I wish your father had come with us, he has the answers to questions we don’t know.”
Lyra grimaced.
The door burst open, slamming against the wall with a violence that sent me out of the chair and backing away with Lyra right beside me.
A broad-shouldered warrior drew his sword and waved it at us. “Which one of you is the witch?” he demanded.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Lyra asked, her friendly voice unnaturally cold as though she were the ice freezing over water on a cold winter’s day.
The chill coming from her was so strong I was momentarily distracted from the warrior.
He lunged at us, but Lyra moved, putting the long table between us.
