Sweat beads. Stomach knots. “Joshua is still at the Haven.” I fidget with the strap on my pack. “But your—Makai . . .” A glance at the boy beside me. “. . . went to the castle in an attempt to rescue my mom.” Breathe. “He never came out.”
“That boy . . .” He shakes his head, mumbling under his breath.
Straining to hear, I lean closer.
“. . . has loved your mother since the day he helped her escape this Reflection eighteen years ago.” His fingers twiddle against his cracked lips. “But with Elizabeth free, Makai should be able to use his Calling, become invisible. He shouldn’t have trouble escaping once he knows she is safe.”
Thank the Verity Nathaniel doesn’t continue. Could he possibly know who Ky is? What Tiernan did to him?
I don’t have time to ponder because Ky blurts out, “It’s too dangerous.” He brushes my arm with his fingers, traces all the way down to my hand. He takes it in earnest, turning me toward him. “As your Guardian, I cannot allow you to go into the castle alone.”
“No.” Nausea rears. “I can only bring one person through at a time. Getting Mom out will be tricky enough. I’m not risking leaving you behind.” My protectiveness of him raises an alarm. Was it only last week I wanted nothing to do with him? “I’ll be okay.”
“What if you get caught?” He moves between me and the mirror, as if I might leave without him otherwise. “What then?”
“Jasyn won’t hurt me. You have to let me do this. I need to make my life count for something.” And to make up for all the times it didn’t.
His lips press. Eyes narrow. Five droning beats. And then, “Not returning is a risk I’m willing to take. Either I go with you, or you don’t go at all.” His arms cross, his stance widens. Final answer.
I sigh. No time for arguing. “Fine.”
“I knew you’d see it my way.” He squeezes my hand.
Operation Save Mom has finally begun.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Never Looked
So how does it work?” I flatten my palm on the mirror. Solid. Cold.
Nathaniel steps away, giving us room. “As I said, your desire will become your strength. Let the love you have for your mother empower you.”
Without an utterance Ky unsnaps the sheath at his belt, offers it to me. “We should each carry a weapon.”
“Ky, I can’t take your mirrorglass knife.”
“You can and you will.”
“No. Give me the steel one—”
“Absolutely not. You’ve never stabbed anyone before.” He grabs my hand, closes my fingers around the knife’s hilt. “If you need to defend yourself, I will not have you second-guessing. The mirrorglass will ensure you follow through. Any wound you inflict will heal as long as you withdraw the blade. Don’t hesitate.”
“But your vow to never kill again—you can’t use the steel blade.”
“I’ll be fine.” He rolls his shoulders and faces the mirror. Conversation over.
“Thank you.” I hook it at my side. The weighty addition is confidence and security. Next I pull my hair off my face, secure it with the leather tie around my wrist.
Now I’m ready.
“Don’t thank me yet. We may be walking to our executions.”
Uncertainty keeps my feet glued in place. If things don’t go our way, I may not have a chance to explain about Tiernan. I want to say I’m sorry on my father’s behalf. But I also want to know more about him. To ask if there was ever any good in him. From Mom’s journal entries, it seems so. Could Ky have any positive memories of the man who raised him? No one can be all bad. Right?
But the questions expire before they reach my throat. With a deep exhale I face the soon-to-be Threshold. Close my eyes. Love is my strength.
My palm levels with the glass. I picture Mom, inhale through my nose. Let the notes flow free. Press.
Nothing.
Teeth clenched, I try again. Imagining the castle, its windows and doors. The courtyard and stables. The scent and the night and Jasyn’s pitiful rose garden. The fountain frozen in time.
The mirror remains a mirror.
My song dies. “It’s not working.” Frustration bubbles. I let my hand fall, clenching it against my thigh.
“You must dig deep inside,” Nathaniel instructs, waving his hand as if he’s the conductor of this little experiment. “You cannot simply think it. You have to feel the music inside you.” His fist covers his heart.
Feel it? “I am feeling it.” Aren’t I?
Ky puts his mouth close to my ear.
Can’t. Breathe.
“Remember what you told me at the Village?” he whispers. “How lyrics are your way of expressing emotions?”
Since when did Ky begin to know me better than I know myself?
I swallow. Can he hear my heart rate switch cadence? “Yes.”
“So sing your heart out.” He returns my personal space.
My lungs expand. He’s right. The perfect lyrics are everything.
With one palm kissing the mirror and the other linked with Ky’s, I gaze into the reflection I’ve never truly looked at until now. Mom lives there. And Joshua. Ky, by my side now, found a place too. I’d do anything for them. How did I miss it? This entire time I’ve been closing myself off from love, but it’s been the solution all along. I’ve built walls at every turn. No more. As with Queen Ember, drawn to her king from another Reflection, it isn’t song alone that ignites my Calling, but love. True, unblemished love.
Now I sing for them. The words tumble forth as I pair them with my melody.
“Ashamed of the outside, I’ve never belonged.
Hidden in shadows, I locked my heart away.
But inside I was fading. Breaking. Dying.
Now I’m a flame. My soul is igniting.
Love is a fire. Burning. Refining.
Its blaze lights the way. I am no longer afraid.”
The mirror shimmers. More than a song, these lyrics are a confession. I’ve changed. I’m not the girl who left Manhattan. No more hiding. No more fear. I am the rose beyond the thorns.
On the final line, the glass melts to liquid beneath my touch.
And then I step through.
A cold burst of air pelts my skin as I drop to a hard floor. Hailstone-like tingles shoot through my hands, pinging my arms, my neck and shoulders. I flex my fingers. Look to the ceiling, spring to my feet, and whirl. Hyperventilated breaths labor my abs and lighten my head. To my right, an arched window no wider than my arm from elbow to wrist.
Oh my soul, I did it. I turned the mirror into a Threshold.
Ky rises beside me. “That was weird.” He brushes off his pants, checks for the blade at his ankle, tightens his bootlaces. “Like being sucked through a vortex or down a drain.”
Impossible to suppress my grin. It really was. What a rush.
Beyond the window night capes a villainous sky. I press my face to the glass. It’s the castle all right. There’s the Forest of Night. But where in the castle are we, exactly? This tower is similar to the dungeon stairwell, stone curving along spiral steps. We’re high, at least three stories aboveground. A maze of thorny hedges twists and turns directly below—Jasyn’s rose garden. “Which way?”