Page 70 of Wicked Prince of Mirrors
“We’ll go when you’re ready,” Methrin said.
His unsaid words were louder. We were beyond the Boundary in the realm of beasts. Safe passage through meant we’d need to use magic, just like the last time we’d come through.
I leaned against the wall, catching my breath when a deep roar throbbed. I felt it deep in my bones, a pulsing, a call. I lifted my head and caught Methrin’s violet eyes. His expression spiked with concern, his brow furrowed.
“Are those?—?”
“War drums,” he finished for me.
I nodded, facing him as possibilities warred through my mind. “We’ve been gone for months. It’s possible the Boundary has fallen, it’s possible war has returned.”
He stood, running his fingers through his dark hair, making the waves of it dance and curl in a way that made me ache. But not here. Not now. We had work to do, a shadow to kill, beasts to set free, a kingdom to save, a war to end.
And then, only then, would I find the answers I sought.
What happened to my mother? What would happen to me when it all came to an end?
My soul was linked to Methrin’s, my heart belonged to him, an immortal Prince from a realm beyond my own. A future lay ahead of us, one I could not begin to comprehend, not with the enormity of what we needed to do lying between us and that future.
My fingers clenched into fists, and I stood to my feet, forcing away the weakness, focusing on determination. The throb of war drums pulsed, and in the undercurrent was another tremor, a thread of terror.
I faced my husband, lacing my fingers around his neck. “I’m ready,” I whispered and kissed him. A promise. A sharing of strength.
He kissed me back, firm and sure. He did not ask if I was certain, he did not ask if I were ready. “Then let us be done with the darkness, with the shadows, once and for all.”
“A realm to save,” I whispered.
His fingers laced through mine, and he led me out of the cave into the shadow of the forest. The trees tremored and the breeze whispered warnings to our ears. Cries of battle grew louder as we walked, the shouts of men, the screams of death, the roaring of beast. The air was acid with magic, the taste of iron, the scent of blood.
We walked out of the forest into the valley, and my gaze was drawn up, up, up. The peaceful meadow had been turned into a battlefield. A collection of men and beast and magicians.
The angry purple cloud of what had once been the Boundary had been split in two, an opening that led out into the kingdom, giving the beasts their freedom. I imagined many had fled.
Those there who fought weren’t only fighting against the beast, they were fighting each other. The Venators were there, fighting against the magicians, those who’d escaped to the Boundary led by a gnarledwizard. Rydlin, the Sorcerer. So he lived. So he had remnants of magic. Relief flooded me to see him, fighting along side those with magic.
The beasts fought a war of their own, bringing down both sides. But what held my attention were two great shadows, ribbons of blackness.
What Mirror Magic had wrought.
I did not understand how they were there, or why.
I only heard the sound of steel as Methrin drew the Shadow Slayer.
“I will slay my shadow, you’ll kill yours, and there will be peace.”
Red eyes glowed, blackness flickered, and those shadows raced for us. Ribbons of darkness sent fear surging through me.
I’d fought the darkness before. And I’d won.
I’d split myself into two. I stopped listening to the voice, to the fear, the negativity, everything that sought to bring me down, to drive me into ruin and darkness. I’d won once, I’d win again.
I lifted my hands, feeling life and light tingle through me. A golden glow hovered on my fingertips, and Mirror Magic ballooned out of me. The roar of battle grew louder just for a moment before everything faded away.
Methrin and I stood in a circle of darkness, the shadows covering all. He lifted the blade and it glowed, a silver light streaking out, piercing the shadow.
Shards flew from my fingertips, distracting the shadows while he swung, each blow cleaving, ripping off the ribbons until they faded into mist. The greatopen maws of those shadows roared, a meaningless nothingness because their words could not harm me any longer.
They could not tell me that I was worthless, meaningless, or that I’d fail.
