Page 34 of A Taste of Silver
But she's not helpless. I can see it in the way she moves through the space, her awareness sharp, her power barely contained beneath the surface of careful control. She examines the room with tactical precision, noting the exits, the weaknesses, the suspicious abundance of reflective surfaces.
When her gaze falls on the vanity mirror, I see her pause. For just a moment, her eyes meet mine across the distance between realms, and I feel her recognition like a key turning in a lock.She knows I'm watching. Knows I'm there in every reflection, maintaining my vigil.
"Stay alive," I whisper to her through every surface in that room. "Stay clever. Stay yourself. And when the moment comes, when you need me most, I'll be there. I promise."
The rose on her pillow pulses with silver light, responding to my intention, carrying the echo of my vow across the space between us. I see her notice it, see her fingers brush the crystalline petals with something like wonder before she turns away, squaring her shoulders against whatever's coming next.
"Idiot," Syra mutters again, but this time there's affection beneath the exasperation. "You're going to get yourself killed for her."
"Probably," I agree. "But isn't that what love is? Choosing someone else's existence over your own? Deciding that a world with them in it is worth more than any world that contains only you?"
"That's not love, that's martyrdom."
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
I settle in for the long watch, spreading my awareness across every mirror in the palace, every reflective surface near enough to her chambers that I might be able to reach her if needed. The effort makes my already fragmented essence strain dangerously, but I hold the connections through sheer stubbornness.
Through one mirror, I see Aldric in his private chambers, speaking with Magister Drell over complicated diagrams that make my stomach sink. A binding circle. They're planning a binding circle, not to seal away a threat but to capture and control a power source. To capture her.
Through another, I glimpse the Crimson One's influence spreading like oil through water, his corruption seeping from sealed mirror to sealed mirror, building a network through which he can manifest when the moment is right.
Through a third, I see servants preparing a ballroom, hanging crystals that will catch and multiply light into a thousand fractured beams. A masquerade, they're calling it. A celebration. But I can see the geometric pattern they're creating, can recognize the way the decorations form the skeleton of something much darker.
"They're planning something big," Syra says, having followed my attention through the various reflections. "Not just capture. Something that requires ceremony, precision, multiple layers of preparation."
"A merger," I realize with dawning horror. "Not just binding her power, but using it as a catalyst. They want to collapse the barriers completely, merge the realms under controlled conditions with her as the anchor point."
"That's insane. The amount of power required?—"
"Is exactly what a fully awakened Mirror Queen possesses." My hands curl into fists. "They're not trying to suppress her. They're trying touseher. Turn her into a living battery for the largest working since the Sundering."
Through the mirror showing Aurea's chambers, I see her settling onto the bed, exhaustion finally catching up to her. She's been so strong, so brave, but even queens need rest. I watch as her eyes drift closed, as sleep finally claims her despite the danger surrounding her on all sides.
"I'll watch over her dreams," I say quietly. "Make sure nothing slips through while her defenses are down."
"And then?" Syra asks.
"Then we prepare for war." The words taste like silver and ash. "Because that's what this is, Syra. Everything that's coming, the masquerade, the binding, the Crimson One's corruption, it's all building toward a confrontation that's going to reshape both realms. And she's going to be at the center of it."
"You both will be." Syra's hand finds my shoulder again, offering what comfort she can. "That's what the bond means. You don't get to watch from the sidelines anymore."
She's right. The time for distant observation, for carefully maintained separation, is ending. Soon I'll need to cross fully, to stand beside Aurea in whatever comes next. And when that moment arrives, when she needs me to be more than just a voice through reflections or a presence in dreams, I'll find the strength somehow.
Even if it costs everything. Even if manifesting completely in her realm burns through what's left of my essence like paper in flame. Some things are worth the price.
The garden settles around me, its transformed beauty now tinged with anticipation, with the electric tension that comes before storms. Through the Last Mirror, I maintain my watch, counting heartbeats and breaths, tracking threats and allies alike.
"Sleep, little flame," I whisper through the rose beside her pillow. "Rest while you can. Tomorrow brings the masquerade, and after that, everything changes."
In her chamber, I see her breath even out, see the tension in her shoulders finally release as sleep takes her deep. The rose glows brighter, carrying my protection into her dreams, ensuring that whatever nightmares the corrupted mirrors might try to send, they'll have to go through me first.
And I'll be here. Through every reflection, every surface, every threshold between our worlds. Watching, waiting, preparing for the moment when distance collapses entirely and we finally stand together against the darkness that's been gathering since the day they forced us apart.
The realms hold their breath. The palace sleeps, unaware of the convergence approaching. And I maintain my vigil throughthe long hours of night, burning what essence I have left to keep her safe in the only way I still can.
By refusing to look away. By choosing to witness. By preparing to become, at last, something more than a voice through glass or a presence in dreams.
By preparing to become real.
