We tread lightly down a narrow stairway, Ky in front and me behind. The steps are unfinished, the boards warped. Bent nails and splinters stick out like booby traps. At the bottom an ajar door waits, soft light leaking through its cracks. Ky places a finger to his lips, gestures for me to stay.
He approaches the door and peers inside.
I rise on my toes, leaning over his shoulder to get a better view.
On the other side is a narrow room with a high ceiling, a meager fire crackling in a mini hearth. After prodding blackened logs with an iron pole, the man occupies a damask armchair. “Well, what are you two lollygaggers standing around for? Either sit or don’t, but do not be all evening about it, please.”
I mouth, “Lollygaggers?” and Ky responds with a half smirk, half shrug.
“Where are we supposed to sit?” The man inhabits the only piece of furniture in the cramped space.
He shifts in his seat, eyes me over his half-moons. “You are your mother’s daughter. Elizabeth had just as much tactlessness at your age. If the floor is not good enough for your royal rear ends, I suppose I could relinquish my chair.”
My mother? He knows me? He must be Nathaniel. I move deeper into the room and sit cross-legged on a circular rug at his feet. Ky remains standing, holding up the wall behind me.
Nathaniel faces the fire again, and his shoulders slump. “What brings you to my door at this hour?” His voice is winter and fog, hibernating beneath years of solitude.
“We’re here because of this.” I retrieve the loose-leaf paper from Mom’s book, pass it to my grandfather. I have so many questions for this man. About my father. About Mom. But none of those are important right now. “I was hoping you could explain how the Threshold thing works.”
Orange embers spit onto the rug. Nathaniel stomps them out with a slippered foot and snatches the paper, examines it over the bridge of his nose. “Where did you get this?”
I produce Mom’s account of The Reflection Chronicles.
He leans forward, the fire’s radiance washing his wrinkled face in ginger light. “I can tell you one thing. That book and this entry were not penned by the same author.”
I was right. He can help me. “Who’s E. G. A?”
He removes an antique pocket watch from his robe. The heirloom is tarnished, in need of a good shine. He flips it open and rotates it toward me. One side contains a clock face, frozen where it last ticked. But the other half bears a silver dollar–sized photo of a cinnamon-haired beauty with a constellation of freckles and passionate blue eyes. And there, winding up the right side of her face in crimson tendrils, is what we have affectionately dubbed the mirrormark.
Aidan’s queen. Has to be. Robyn said she had a mark like mine, one that linked her to the king as I am linked to him. Was she a Mirror as well? If so, what happened to her? The theory says only one Mirror can exist at a time.
Nathaniel snaps the watch closed, returns it to his robe, pats the spot where it rests. Bracing a hand on his knee, he cranes his neck. “I would know Queen Ember’s handwriting anywhere.”
“Queen Ember?”
Nathaniel reveals he has the ability to smile. “Your mother felt she needed a pseudonym if she was to hide from her father.” A pause. “And yours.”
I feel Ky’s presence behind me. Please don’t bring up Tiernan. Not here. Not now. Change the subject.
“So . . . ,” Nathaniel continues, “Elizabeth donned dear Ember’s first name as her last in hopes it would conceal her true identity.”
I swallow, relief sliding to my core. “You speak as if you knew her personally.”
He removes his glasses, then blows a hot breath on each lens. “Indeed. She was my student before she was ever my queen.” He wipes the lenses with a corner of his robe. “After they moved from England to the States, my parents turned their home in New York into a boardinghouse of sorts.” His spectacles return to their perch. “By then I was already grown and living in the Second with my wife and two boys.”
Tiernan and Makai. My family history is coming together, shard by broken shard. Another peek at Ky. All Nathaniel has to do is say his sons’ names, and then Ky will connect the dots. Please don’t say their names, please—
“I’m getting ahead of myself. How I came to be here is a story for another time. Where was I?” Nathaniel taps his temple. “Ah yes. My parents. Originally from the Second, they sustained a deep reverence for the Verity and the Callings. When Ember came into their home, she was fourteen. No parents, no family to speak of. She even adopted our surname, Archer. Ember worked for them in exchange for room and board. I visited the Third often and got to know her. She had a sharp wit and a keen sense of intuition. No use lying to the girl. She would call you on it every time.” He laughs at that, as if reliving a private memory.
A ghost of a smile haunts my lips. Despite the circumstances, I feel as if I’m getting a sense of who my grandfather is. Serious, yes. But also someone who cares for those closest to him. Maybe when this is all over, we might have a relationship. Family has always been singular to me—Mom. Perhaps it has the chance to be more.
“My parents and I taught Ember of the Reflections, the Callings,” Nathaniel continues. “Rather than scoff at them or call them insane, she welcomed the knowledge. At sixteen she drank Threshold water, but a Calling never manifested. Still, she was eager to learn everything she could about the worlds beyond her own. Ember was twenty-five when my parents passed. It was the first time I brought her into the Second—the day I introduced her to Aidan.”
A love story? My stomach flutters. I’m the sick kid from The Princess Bride. In the past I would’ve groaned at the mention of romance, knowing all too well it wasn’t in my future. But now? Now I don’t mind so much.
“Aidan had only just become the Verity’s vessel,” Nathaniel explains. “He was thirty and busied himself with matters of the Reflection—keeping the Void imprisoned his top priority. But when Aidan saw Ember, I knew something in him had changed.” Is that a twinkle in his gray eyes? “When they kissed and Ember’s mark appeared, I began my research. As I’m sure you may have guessed, there was little information regarding such a mark. The vessel preceding Aidan never found true love. There was, however, an account recording the stipulations of a Kiss of Infinity.”
“E. G. A.’s—Ember’s reference to Dimitri Gérard’s account of The Reflection Chronicles.” I twirl my shoelace around one finger, twisting until my circulation cuts off.
“The very same.” He coughs but doesn’t bother to cover his mouth.
So this is where Joshua learned everything—the source he mentioned. Nathaniel taught him about the kisses, the mirrormark, all of it. Except I still don’t understand what would motivate Joshua to conceal my gift from me. It makes no sense.
I wish he were here so I could ask him. Is he okay? Did he make it out of the Haven unseen? And what about the others? For the first time I realize I’m worried about more than just Mom and me. I do want the vessel to succeed in defeating Jasyn and the Void. Then my friends can stop hiding. Then the Second will be free.
“Yes.” Nathaniel coughs, drawing me from my internal epiphany. Leaning forward, he folds his hands between his knees. “We soon developed the ‘Mirror Theory’ as is recorded on this page.” He raises it to the light. “I must say, I thought you would have sought me sooner. After Ember passed, I tore this entry from her diary, stowed it in your mother’s book. I thought it might help her prepare you for the path ahead. Of course, she wanted nothing to do with it, left the tome here and never looked back.”