Page 57 of A Taste of Silver
"As you can see," Melora said, her voice steady, "my granddaughter is unwell. The magical upheaval has affected her constitution, which is hardly surprising given her bloodline's sensitivity to such things."
The captain's gaze lingered on me. I let my eyes flutter half-closed, breathing shallowly as if fevered. Through my lashes, I saw him notice the cracked mirror, still humming faintly with the Awakening Chord.
"The mirror," he said slowly. "It's damaged."
"From earlier," Melora replied smoothly. "When the resonance began. Surely your men reported it?"
A long pause. The captain clearly suspected something, but without proof, and with Melora's steady presence suggesting nothing was amiss, he had little choice.
"Prince Aldric wishes to see Lady Solis at first light," he said finally. "Ensure she's... recovered by then."
They filed out, but I heard the captain station two guards directly outside the door. We were truly trapped now.
When their footsteps faded, I sat up, meeting Melora's worried gaze.
"First light," I said quietly. "Whatever the Crown plans, it happens tomorrow."
Through the cracked mirror, I caught a glimpse of silver hair. Silvyr was there, frayed around the edges but present, maintaining his vigil. Our eyes met across the impossible distance, and I saw my own determination reflected in his star-filled gaze.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Chapter 20
Aurea
The maids arrived at dawn with Prince Aldric's summons, their faces carefully blank as they laid out the elaborate court dress. Deep violet silk that caught light like liquid shadow, silver thread embroidered in patterns that made my marks tingle beneath my skin. A masquerade, they informed me with practiced efficiency. The Prince's way of celebrating the "resolution of recent magical disturbances."
As if covering our faces would hide what we'd all become.
Melora's fingers worked through my hair, braiding silver strands that hadn't existed yesterday into complex patterns meant to disguise their unnatural shimmer. Her touch was gentle but her hands shook, and I caught her wiping her eyes when she thought I wasn't looking.
"Seventeen times," she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
My hands stilled on the jewelry box. "What?"
"That's how many times I've had to watch you forget him. Seventeen times over fourteen years." The brush in her handtrembled. "The first time, you remembered for three months. You were eight, and you spent every night crying at mirrors, begging Silvyr to answer you."
The confession hung between us like a blade. I turned on the vanity stool to face her properly, seeing the weight of all those resets carved into the lines around her eyes.
"Three months," I repeated, tasting the loss of it. "I knew him for three whole months and then?—"
"Then one morning you woke asking why your hands felt strange in the gloves." Melora's voice cracked. "You looked right through a mirror as if it were ordinary glass. No recognition, no yearning, just... nothing. As if those three months had been surgically removed from your mind."
"And you let it happen."
"I helped make it happen." The admission seemed to age her another decade. "Mixed the herbs myself, spoke the words that would lock those memories away. Held you while you drifted off to sleep still whispering his name, knowing you'd wake with that part of yourself missing."
I wanted to rage at her. Wanted to scream about betrayal and stolen choices. But looking at her now, seeing the guilt that had eaten at her for over a decade, I found only exhaustion.
"The second time?"
"Six weeks. You were nine." Melora resumed braiding, her fingers steadier now that the confession had begun. "You'd learned to hide it better, pretending you didn't see him in every reflection. But I knew. Mothers always know when their children are keeping secrets."
"You're not my mother."
"No," Melora agreed quietly. "But I loved you like one. Still do, despite everything I've done to hurt you in the name of that love."
