Page 28 of A Taste of Silver
I grabbed for my gloves, but they were ruined, torn and bloodstained. The marks on my arms glowed through the fabric of my sleeves, impossible to hide.
"The storage room." Melora grabbed my shoulders, pushing me toward the back. "Go, now?—"
"The Crown summons Aurea Miren Solis." The voice carried through the door with unnatural clarity—magic amplification. "By royal decree, she will present herself at court before sunset, or be declared outlaw."
They knew my name. My full name.
I straightened, pushing back my shoulders. "Let them in."
"Are you mad?"
"Let them in." I grabbed one of Melora's work aprons, wrapping it around my arms like a shawl. It would hide nothing if anyone looked closely, but perhaps they wouldn't look. Perhaps they'd see what they expected, a simple herbalist's apprentice, nothing more.
Melora's hands shook as she unlatched the door.
The man who filled the doorway wasn't just tall; he was an immovable wall of royal blue and silver. The polished buttons on his coat seemed to drink the light from the room. His eyes, cold and assessing, swept the workshop, cataloguing the broken mirrors, the scattered herbs, the two women standing amid the destruction. When his gaze landed on me, something flickered in his expression. Recognition? Suspicion?
"Aurea Miren Solis?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He pulled a sealed scroll from his coat, holding it out with formal precision. "By order of His Majesty, Prince Aldric theThird, Keeper of the Realm, Protector of the Natural Order, you are commanded to present yourself at court immediately to answer questions regarding the magical disturbance that occurred in the early hours of this morning."
I took the scroll. The wax seal burned cold against my fingers. Another small magic, designed to verify the recipient. It recognized me. Knew me for what I was.
"I need time to prepare."
"You have until noon." His eyes lingered on my covered arms. "The carriage will return for you then. I suggest you make yourself... presentable."
He said the word 'presentable' with a slight, knowing tilt of his head, his gaze lingering on my covered arms. The message was clear, we know you're hiding something. Don't insult us by pretending otherwise.
He turned on his heel and left, the door swinging shut behind him with finality.
"You can't go." Melora grabbed my shoulders. "The court, they've been hunting Mirrorwalker bloodlines for generations. If they know what you are?—"
"They already know something." I broke the seal on the scroll, scanning its contents. Formal language, veiled threats, and buried in the middle, a single line that made my blood freeze.The Mirror-touched are of particular interest to the Crown at this time.
"Then run. Take what coin we have and run."
"To where?" I set down the scroll, turning to face my mentor. "Every mirror in a mile cracked when I spoke my name. They know what I am, or at least what I might be. Running only confirms their suspicions."
I walked back to the basin, staring down at my fractured reflection. I reached for the basin again. My fingers sank through the water's surface into the cool, still air of the Mirror Realm. Iclosed my hand around the handle of a silver comb I saw there, and pulled. It came free with a faint chime, suddenly solid and cold in my palm. With each object I retrieved, whether it was a vial of swirling starlight or a pair of gloves made of woven shadow, a fresh tracery of silver bloomed across my skin, a searing heat that was part pain, part ecstasy. "Besides," I said, my voice steady despite the fire in my veins. "I need answers. And the palace has the largest collection of forbidden mirrors in the kingdom."
"Sealed mirrors. Warded mirrors. Mirrors that will kill you if you so much as breathe on them wrong."
"Then I'll be careful."
Melora laughed, bitter and helpless. "Careful. You just pulled objects from the Mirror Realm like picking flowers, and you want to be careful?"
I turned the shadow-silk gloves in my hands. They felt cool, almost alive, and when I slipped them on, they molded to my skin perfectly, hiding the marks without hiding their power. Anyone with magical sensitivity would still know something was wrong, but casual observers would see only expensive gloves on a woman trying to appear above her station.
"Help me dress for court." I met Melora's eyes. "If I'm walking into the wolf's den, I might as well look like I belong there."
We worked in tense silence, selecting clothes, braiding my hair to hide the silver streaks, applying cosmetics to make my skin look less luminous, more human. But nothing could hide the way the marks made me move differently, with a fluid grace that belonged to something other than mortal flesh.
As noon approached, I took one last look in the basin. The water had stilled, showing my reflection clearly despite the copper's cracks.
Behind my reflection stood Silvyr, more solid than before, his expression a masterwork of longing and fear. His lips moved, shaping words I couldn't hear but somehow understood
