“I’m sorry,” I said as I turned the phone off, saving the last of her phone battery for no real reason besides the fact it seemed like the right thing to do. “I’m really, really sorry. No matter how crappy you were to me I didn’t want you to die.”
I took a deep breath. Sorry wasn’t going to do either of us any good right now. I set the phone down on the pile of her stuff and dropped the pillow back on top of it. I shuffled back into the closet, closing the door to Heidi’s room behind me, and stopped at the rack of flimsy shoes in the corner. Standing on tiptoes, I grabbed the gold shoes that I’d worn for my coronation and pulled the right heel down carefully.
Flipping the shoe over, I felt inside the toe and fished out the shard of mirror that I’d hidden inside it. Another one of my lies. My mother had been on the other side of that mirror—the Fate Maker was right, there was no way I was going to destroy my last link to her. No matter how risky it was to keep.
I tried to focus my mind on Gran Mosely, watching the mirror go dark and spiral through the other woman’s memories before it settled on the image of my foster mother, sitting on her couch with a blanket on her legs.
“Roberta?” I heard a voice call out, and I knew it was Mr. Wapperly from down the road. He and Gran Mosely had dated before she’d taken me in, and I knew from watching them in the mirror that if I hadn’t been there the two of them would’ve ended up together. “Do you want some popcorn?”
“No, thanks, Frank,” Gran Mosely replied. “You know—”
“If I eat late at night it gives me heartburn,” I said at the same time she did.
Gran perked up and looked around, confused.
“Roberta?” Frank Wapperly called out, his voice closer this time. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Fine.” She shook her head. “I thought I heard something. Must be my imagination playing tricks on me.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“It was nothing.” She glanced at the front windows and started to get up before stopping and sitting back down again, turning to look away from me, toward the kitchen. “Some bleed-through noise from the street. Nothing important. I’m just being a goose.”
“Well, come on then, Mother Goose.” A hand appeared and Gran Mosely took it, letting him help her off the couch. “Let’s get you tucked in bed before any more nursery rhymes decide to haunt you tonight.”
“Good night, Gran,” I whispered as he led her away, my heart catching in my throat as she turned her head to look back at me, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror, even though she couldn’t see me.
“Roberta?” Mr. Wapperly asked.
“It’s nothing.” She shook her head and started up the stairs, glancing back over her shoulder one last time. “Must have just been a shadow.”
“Sleep well.” I ran my finger over the mirror’s face and the reflection went blurry.
I closed my eyes and focused on my mother, trying to picture her in my mind. The mirror vibrated, humming lightly, and when I opened my eyes her memories played across the shard’s surface. The day I was born. The first time she sang on stage. Bright flowers flashed across it, and as they faded away, the image of my mother lying in her hospital bed appeared. The reflection was dark, and the only light in the room was a faint glow over the sink. I heard the beep of monitors and the whoosh of the machine that breathed for her. Tilting the mirror, I stared at my mother, her dark hair laid out on the pillow in a neat braid, and her eyes closed like they always were. Her blue hospital gown looked fresh, and heavy white blankets were tucked in around her.
“Mom?” I tried not to cry as I stared at the unconscious woman in the mirror.
Why couldn’t she be in a coma there and ruling Nerissette here? Why couldn’t she be around to give me advice? It wasn’t like there were any pressing plans on that side of the mirror to keep her occupied. If Esmeralda could visit people in their dreams why couldn’t my mom? Why couldn’t she be here with me?
A flash of anger at the unfairness of it all shot through me, and I tightened my grip on the mirror. The jagged edges dug into the palm of my hand like a sharp bite. I jerked my fingers open, letting the glass fall to the floor.
I stared at the gash in my hand and bit my lower lip. Man, it stung—and it was bleeding. Bad enough that I was pretty sure I would need a bandage. Which meant I was going to have to come up with some lie about how I’d hurt myself. More lies. More deception. More secrets. It seemed like that was all my life was made up of anymore.
The beads of blood had quickly become a stream, and I forgot all about concocting an excuse as I focused on finding a way to stop the bleeding. I clenched my hand around the cut, and reached down to shove the mirror shard back into my shoe and slip it back into its place.
“Your Majesty?” I heard someone call out from my bedroom. “Your Majesty, where are you?”
“Timbago? What is it?” I hurried out, still clutching my hand to my chest and trying not to get blood on my tunic.
The goblin pursed his lips and stepped forward, peering at my hand. He extended his arm toward me, twitching his gnarled fingers, and I placed my hand in his.
A faint warmth jolted through my body, and when it faded my hand no longer throbbed. The skin was clean and completely healed, like I’d never even cut it. Sort of cool. Or scary, if you thought about the fact that a goblin could do that sort of magic. But ultimately cool.
“Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, Your Majesty.” He bowed his head. “Although, I regret to inform you that you are needed in the throne room. Immediately.”
“In the throne room? Now? Why?”
“The dragon scouts have returned, Your Majesty.” He dipped his head again and then looked up, his red-rimmed eyes meeting mine.
“What about Winston? He’s with them, isn’t he?” I watched Timbago turn to my dressing table. He ran his finger over my jewelry box and I watched as it began to hum. He whispered something to the box and I watched stunned as the lid slid back, opening for him. He reached inside the now-open box and began to flick aside various bits of jewelry before he picked up the crystal necklace I’d been wearing earlier.
“He’s with them, Your Majesty.” His voice was low and breathy, and he grabbed the crystal and held it before his eyes, his green tongue coming out to swipe at his chapped lips. “The crown prince is fine.”
“Timbago?” I stepped closer, surprised to see the goblin rocking on his heels and humming as he looked at the crystal, his eyes fixed on it as he licked his lips again.
“You should take this with you.” He stuck his hand out straight, keeping his head turned, so that the necklace dangled in front of me from his outstretched hand. “Keep it hidden if you can.”
“Why?”
“It will keep you safe.”
“The necklace?” Confusion clouded my mind, and the room seemed like it was fading away. Like the picture had gone hazy and my mind was disappearing along with it, making it hard to concentrate on anything as my head spun. “This isn’t the tear,” I pushed out. “It’s just a necklace that Winston gave me for my coronation. A gift from the dragons.”
“Keep it with you. The magic woven into the stone will protect you.”
“What magic?” I asked. “The necklace doesn’t have magic.”
“Forget about the necklace and the stone’s magic.” Timbago’s eyes swirled a brilliant green instead of their usual mud-brown color. My brain had trouble focusing on him again, the world going in and out of focus. “Forget that you are wearing it and go on about your duties.”
“But—”
“Forget about the necklace. Focus instead on the Fate Maker. Focus on the battle to come.”
“Of course.” I put the necklace on, dropping the stone inside my shirt where no one would see it. “I’ll forget about the necklace.”