With a long exhale, I exit the hallway and head down the stairs into the cellar. Might as well get this over with.
ASIDE
Josh
Ah, and so he shows his pathetic face once more. I jerk against my restraints, the ropes binding my wrists chafing the already-raw skin. What’s it been? Eight hours since we last had a chat? It’s about time he came back down here. Does he believe he holds a semblance of authority over me? When I forced Eliyana to drink the Unbinding Elixir, I harnessed the Void within Kyaphus. Which means I am in control, not the other way around. And now that my brother’s bond with Eliyana is broken, I can find a way to lock him away. Let him rot from his dark insides out.
“You’re delusional,” my weaker half says inside my head. “Haven’t you figured it out? Get it through that sick soul of yours. The mere fact Kyaphus is the only vessel of the Void means he’s the one who cares for Eliyana most. By attempting to break their bond, you have only strengthened it further. Have you forgotten what Rafaj said—?”
“Quiet, fool,” I hiss as Kyaphus tromps down the cellar stairs. “Grandfather has nothing to do with this.”
“Are you daft? He has everything to do with this. Or have you forgotten his last words? Kyaphus will figure it out if he hasn’t already . . .”
I ignore him and his voice departs. If I don’t acknowledge his presence, he’ll be forced to leave me be.
“Amusing.” He laughs. “That’s exactly what I assumed about you, and look where my folly landed me.”
I witness him reclining in my mind’s eye. At first Joshua was in agony over his internal prison. Now he acts more like the man standing before me for the second time in a day. Cocky, arrogant, and so sure of himself.
I square my shoulders and glare at my twin.
He looms over me, convinced, just as Joshua is, he’ll make it out alive.
I spit to one side.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
THREE
I Obey
I’ve told myself the same thing a million times over. Don’t panic. Do not do it. Panicking helps nobody, least of all me. Think. Use your brain, for Verity’s sake. What are my options?
Mirror walking. I can do that, right? I close my eyes. The Callings were dying, and my voice had vanished. Then it returned. My Mirror Calling does work. Because Joshua saved that girl—Khloe, my half sister—from bleeding to death when Kyaphus tried to kill her. His Ever blood was one of the first to cease. He couldn’t save Kuna—ouch, my heart grieves the loss as if it’s fresh—but he did keep Khloe alive. Which means the Callings are functional. I can mirror walk myself right out of here. I have no limits, I can just—
Double ugh and duh. As if passing through my reflection does me any good. Where would I go? If this were the present, I’d put myself right back where I began. But mirror walking only transfers me from here to a place I’ve been. I’ve never used it to travel to an alternate year, let alone an alternate century. Is such a thing even possible? I could try—
“Do you take sugar and cream, mia cara?”
My head whips up. I’d almost forgotten someone else was here. “Yeah. I mean, yes, please.”
The woman skirts the kitchen island, a saucer-supported teacup in each hand, and joins me at the table. Every move is elegant, graceful, classic. From the purse of her lips to the sway of her hips. She’s Mom and Ebony rolled into one.
I palm my forehead. Ebony. My other half sister. She taught me how to use my butterfly Mask. We’re . . . friends now? Why is everything so jumbled and misplaced? Is this how amnesia works? Fragments of facts falling back into place, bit by bit?
“I am Bianca Moretti.” The woman’s hand covers her heart. Finally, a name to go with the face. Bianca passes me one of the saucer-and-cup combos. The cloudy tea wavers. Steam rises, warms and dampens my face. “You are a long way from home, no?”
I sip and swallow, thinking of Robyn and her father, Wade. Bedtime tales over tea and soup in the Haven seem far removed. The returning memories allow me time to form an answer for Bianca as the overly sweetened tea runs down my throat. Long way doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Yes, a long, long way, I suspect.” She sips from her own cup, not a decibel of sound releasing as she does. Her sepia eyes remain locked on me, consideration in her undemanding stare. “You are fortunate our paths crossed, signorina. Had a Shadowalker found you, I am afraid you would have been dead before the sun dipped below the Tyrrhenian Sea.”
Though I’m berating myself for not paying better attention in geography class, my ears perk and I choke on my tea midgulp. Hot liquid dribbles down my chin. Nice. Real regal, El. “Did you say Shadowalker?” I’ve heard that term before. In the . . . Fifth Reflection. A woman storyteller. A bonfire. A chill caresses my side, as if something should be there warming me.
Joshua. He was there that night, arm wrapped around me as Breckan relayed her tale. Mmm. Good memory. Better hold on to that one.
“Do not be alarmed, bambolina. I will not turn you in. I belong to the Third Alliance. It is my duty to guard and protect the Called of this Reflection.” Crossing her right fist over her heart, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply, as if paying homage to a saint.
A weighty sigh escapes. The Verity must be looking out for me. I may be lost in a different century, but I’ve stumbled across someone who might help. “This is the Third, then? And you’re a Shield? What’s your niche? Who else is in the Third Alliance?” Questions flow like the notes of an up-tempo opus.
Bianca giggles, her whiter-than-white teeth gleaming. “Slow down, amica.”
Signorina, bambolina, mia cara, amica? I can’t keep up with these terms. I hope they mean good things. The tone of her voice suggests so. I’ll take that as a good sign.
“First we must clean you up. Make you presentable for the meeting questa sera. All shall be revealed then.” She rises and positions herself behind my chair, pulls it out, and helps me up. Then I’m whisked off to the loft’s other end where a claw-footed tub waits. “Most apologies, but the water is freddo.”
I shiver. I don’t have to speak her language to guess what freddo means.
“Still, it will wash away that nasty smell.” Her nose wrinkles.
My cheeks flame. If my subjects in the Second could see me now, would they look on with pity or disgust? Certainly they wouldn’t view me as queen. I hardly got a chance to act as ruler before everything began to fall apart. Is everyone all right? Did Joshua leave someone in charge in my absence? Are the people—my people—waiting for my return as they did for King Aidan’s? Or will the disapproval of many compel them to find another, worthier monarch? Does their loyalty to the Verity trump their disappointment in me?