I turned to look at him, my foot still raised. “What?”
“Did you have this the entire time? I mean, since we left the castle have you been carrying it?”
“No, Timbago came to me last night in a vision and gave it to me.”
“When? How?”
“In my dream. Last night, I fell asleep and he was in my dream and he gave me the mirror shard. I don’t know how he did it, but it’s here now.”
“Then don’t destroy it.” Winston pulled me away from the piece of glass.
“You just told me we needed to fix this.”
“That was before I knew that Timbago had given it to you—after he died. A dead goblin brought you a shard from the Mirror of Nerissette in a dream.”
“Yeah?”
“I think that’s a pretty big sign that you’re probably going to need that shard for something.”
“For what?”
“No idea, but if Timbago went to all the trouble of coming back from the dead to give you a shard of the mirror then you need to keep it.”
“Okay, but if it doesn’t work as a portal anymore, I don’t—” I sighed and turned over the mirror fragment in my hand. I knew Winston was right. “Okay. So we hang on to the shard just in case. Now we just have to wait for the Fate Maker to show up so that we can use it.”
Great. Just what I loved doing most in the world. Waiting around for someone else to make the first move.
“The good news is that most of the army has arrived, and the dragon scouts are watching the remaining stragglers. It looks like everyone will be here by dinner.”
“So we have an army?”
“We have an army,” he said. He picked up a stone and skipped it across the lake. “And now we just…wait.”
“That sounds like fun,” I huffed and picked up my own stone.
“We could play I Spy?”
I didn’t even answer, just rolled my eyes. Then I looked down at the shard of glass in my hand. “Do you want to see?”
“I don’t know.” His voice shook, and he kept his eyes fixed on the lake. “If I look—”
“I know.” I started to slip the mirror back in my pocket. “It’s hard.”
“Don’t.” He reached over and grabbed my hand, stopping me from putting the fragment away.
“Okay.” I passed him the mirror. “Who do you want to see?”
“My father.”
“Show me Major Carruthers.” I swept my fingers across the mirror’s surface, and it clouded. Winston’s memories of his father began to race across it. Leaning close to Winston, I looked into the mirror as it cleared, and an older, heavier version of my boyfriend appeared, his face tired as he rubbed his eyes.
“Dad.” Winston’s voice cracked, and he reached out a shaking finger to touch his father’s face.
The man in the mirror glanced up briefly, and I could have sworn that he was looking right at his son.
“I’m sorry,” Winston said quietly. “I’m so sorry for every time…”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him tight.
“I’m sorry for every time I got angry at you for leaving us. I’m sorry that I didn’t understand. I just wanted”—he let out a long breath—“I just wanted a dad like everyone else’s. But I understand now. I promise.” He stopped and stared at his father’s face for a moment. “I wish you could be as proud of me as I am of you.”
“He is,” I said quietly in his ear.
“He doesn’t even know I exist.” Winston handed the mirror back and closed his eyes for a second.
“In his heart he does, even if he doesn’t know it.”
“Give it to me,” another voice said. Uh-oh. I turned to see John of Leavenwald standing next to us.
I swallowed, surprised that he’d somehow managed to sneak up on us without me hearing or without the guard raising an alarm. I looked around and noticed that the younger man was gone and remembered the bow he’d worn on his back—one of John’s men. No wonder he hadn’t warned us the other man had shown up.
“Why?” I asked, keeping my fingers tight around the shard.
“Please.” He held his hand out, palm up, and I handed the glass to him, trembling.
He sat beside me and held it up, staring into it. “Show me the Golden Rose.”
I touched the glass and bits of my mother’s life flitted across the mirror’s face before it cleared. Inside the reflection I could see my mother, still twitching in her sleep. Lost. I closed my eyes and felt all the cells turn inward as I fought against the urge to cry.
“Your life is a promise to the universe,” he whispered to her as he ran his fingers across her face in the mirror, ignoring me and Winston. “That’s what you told me once. Life is a promise to the universe that you believe good will triumph over evil. I believe that because of you, because of her. Because of our Allie.”
“John?” I looked over at the man whose attention was focused on my mother’s image.
“I’ll keep her safe for you.” He ran his hand over the glass again, ignoring me, and then closed his eyes.
“Take it.” He pushed the shard into my hand and stood, marching away from me, his back stiff. But then he stopped, turned back, and stomped toward us.
“Are you okay?” I asked, trembling at the anger I saw in his face.
“I will be.” He closed my fingers over the glass. “But first I have a promise to keep.”
“I know. So do I.”
“When the time comes, Your Majesty”—John kept his eyes locked on mine—“there can be no room for mercy.”
“I know.”
“Good.” He stalked away from me before turning around again, his face determined. “And you should eat.”
“I’m not really all that hungry.”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re hungry or not. You need to eat while you still have the chance.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Your Majesty.” There was a hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. “Your Majesty.”
I rolled over and blinked at Eamon. “What?”
“Your Majesty.” He shook my shoulder again and then pressed his fingers to his lips. “We need to go.”
“Go?” I blinked at him again. “Go where?”
“The army is on the move, Your Majesty.” Eamon picked up my boots and motioned for me to get up. “My father sent me to get you.”
“Right.” I nodded and pushed the blankets back, thankful I had decided to sleep in my trousers and my tunic rather than just using the shirt like a nightgown. Not that I thought Eamon would be weird about it, but I’d rather be fully clothed.
“Mercedes.” I took my boots from Eamon and slid the right one on, my other hand resting on his shoulder. “Kitsuna.”
“Shhh.” Eamon put a finger up to his lips before I switched hands and pulled on my other boot. “My father said to leave them here.”
“What?” I looked around on the floor, searching for my sword. I spotted it underneath the edge of the blanket pile, and grabbed it quickly, buckling it low along my hips.
“He said not to wake them,” Eamon said. “We aren’t moving everyone yet; we’re scouting right now. He thought you’d want to join us.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wake them?” I asked as he ushered me out of the room.
He shook his head. “Dad and Tevian just wanted it to be you. According to the dragon scouts they saw the Fate Maker inside the cliffs. Maybe they want to capture him in secret?”
“Maybe.” An odd feeling prickled along the back of my spine, making the hairs on my neck stand up. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked as Eamon led me out of the house.
The black dragon guards who had been watching the door were gone and in their place were four of Eamon’s woodsmen. “Where did the—”
“Don’t worry about them,” Eamon said. “We told them that we had things under control.”