This Reflection continues to astonish me. A beautiful Troll. A hulking merman. A childlike leviathan. I’d always imagined Fairies as tinkling little women with topknots on their heads and pom-poms on their shoes. Wrong again.
When I glance up at Ky, he’s beaming. We don’t move, barely breathe. Just watch the Fairy excavate chunks off the candy and drop them into a sack at his hip. It’s like this is our little secret. The knowledge invites an intimacy I’m not sure I’m ready for. Not with Ky, anyway.
Once the Fairy’s bag bulges to the brim, he takes flight. His wing tips light up, glow orange like an airplane on a dark runway.
Just as abruptly as he arrived, he’s gone.
“Ain’t ya gonna eat, darlin’?” a voice asks from behind.
“Huh?” I stop in my tracks. Blink. Too skittish to retire to my suite, I’ve been pacing the stone hallway outside the kitchen for at least half an hour. I hold the Verity, yet here I am.
Useless. Unneeded. Invisible.
I haven’t told anyone about my trouble with the Verity since the coronation. How its calming presence has nearly vanished, only a blip here or a flicker there to grasp on to. In its place sits a coldness centering around my chest. It does feel similar to an actual cold with my sore throat and itchy eyes. Maybe I am just sick. I’ll get better and things will return to normal.
Who am I kidding? I’m not fooling anyone. A measly illness wouldn’t harm the Verity, the most powerful entity in the Seven Reflections.
But something must be hurting it. If only I could figure out what.
In an attempt to occupy my overloaded brain, I try to think on things other than the here and now. The mixture of aromas wafting from the kitchen through the archway to my right sent my thoughts to a place I didn’t want to venture. Rosemary. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Maple. Maple Mines. Ky and candy and Fairies.
I touch four fingers to my chest. The treble clef–heart necklace Joshua gave me is there, resting outside my blouse for all to see. But it’s not what I’m looking for. I feel around until I find it, the button charm hidden beneath my clothes. Sigh. Ky’s gift remains, resting against my heart. I haven’t been able to let it go.
I haven’t been able to let him go.
I shake my head. No. Focus. I’m queen whether the people think of me as such or not. And Ky? He’s my past. My future lies here, with the Second and Joshua. One kiss doesn’t dictate who I spend my life with. I choose Joshua.
“Wrong. You already chose me. I’m your past and your future. I’m both.”
I whirl at Ky’s voice, trip over a sack of potatoes, and nearly collide with Reggie.
She steadies me with her flour-dusted hands. “Everyone else has already gone to bed, but I’ll make whatever you fancy. Maybe one of those cheese sandwiches you’re so fond of, hmm?” Her southern accent, all fried chicken and country gravy, warms my bones.
I finger-comb my bangs to one side and roll my shoulders. “Sure, Reg. Thanks.”
“Comin’ right up.” She smiles and tucks a wisp of graying black hair into the bandanna covering her head. Since she was raised in the Third like me, being near Reggie is sort of like going home. She may be from Georgia, but her carefree manner and Third Reflection knowledge make her the closest thing to a neighbor I have. Plus, she’s my greatest connection to Mom while she’s gone. Regina “Reggie” Reeves practically raised Mom. Her stories about Mom’s childhood—before Jasyn took on the Void, of course—always make me feel better when I’m down.
As she meanders through the kitchen archway her hips sway, and I swear it’s a Dolly Parton tune she’s humming.
Pacing once more, I will my mind not to wander into forbidden territory. Sacks of flour and grain lie piled against the walls on either side of me like sandbags damming a flood. They make the hallway seem narrower than it is, and a bout of claustrophobia revs my apprehension. This is the same hallway Ky and I passed through when he rescued me from the dungeons. I didn’t admit it then, but that was the night I first began to trust him.
I sigh and wander into the kitchen. The guests were fed hours ago and the aftermath of dishes and trays, goblets and mugs, lies piled in the farmhouse-style sink straight ahead. Makai decided it would be dangerous for the guests to travel back to their various provinces in the dark, especially considering recent events. He, at least, was straight with me. Whether it’s because he actually respects me as his queen or just feels obligated to me as his new daughter, I don’t know. And I don’t care. All information is good information, no matter the reason given.
“The Threshold at Dawn Lake is draining.” He reloaded his quiver as he spoke. “We have not yet determined the cause or the source. But rest assured, we will.”
I watched from my perch on the courtyard fountain as he made his way back down the hill and toward the Threshold. While everyone was inside eating their fill and chattering about what happened, I remained outside. Away from the gossip and stares. Away from the questioning glances and awkward half smiles.
Is this to be my life? Never living up to their expectations? Failing before I’ve even begun?
Stormy came and sat with me in silence for a while, neither of us knowing what to say to the other. She gave my hand a squeeze before heading to bed. On any other day she’d be among the Guardians on duty. She even attempted to join them after we led the guests back to the castle. But Joshua sent her away, insisting she take the night off.
Joshua. Where is Joshua?
He hasn’t come to find me and no one has seen him. When I asked Makai where he’d gone, he avoided an answer. Uneasiness pinpricks my brain. He wouldn’t just leave. Joshua does nothing without purpose.
“Sandwich is ready, sugar,” Reggie calls from the island to my left. “You can eat by the hearth. Nothing like a little warmth to soothe what’s ailin’ ya. I’ll let Saul know you’re staying down here for a spell.” She turns and strolls down the hall toward the stairwell leading into the west wing. Reggie’s one of the few people who calls Preacher by his first name. He pokes his head around the bend, and they speak in hushed, non-eavesdroppable tones. If I didn’t know any better I’d say Reg is . . . flirting with him?
I head toward the hearth at the far end of the kitchen and grab my food off the island as I pass by. I don’t bother taking a seat at the table where the staff eat their meals. Instead I plop onto the soot-infested rug, cradle my plate between my crossed legs, and stretch my hands forward. Clench, flex, clench, flex. Mm. Cinderella got it right. Coziest spot in the castle.
I pick up the sandwich and bite. The sharp, yeasty taste sends another sigh through my lips. This is food. Not fancy or special. Just good. Comforting.
“The first meal I made for you was a cheese sandwich.”
I swallow. “Don’t you think I know that, Ky?”
“Irritated?”
I return the half-eaten sandwich to my plate. Rub my throbbing knee. The Illusoden I took earlier is wearing off too fast as usual. “Not at you.”
“Tell me.”
I open my mouth, but Reggie returns and I snap it closed. She bustles around the kitchen, carrying about her work as if I’m not here. She whistles a happy tune Snow White would be proud of, and I’m half tempted to cover my ears. She means well, but I can’t focus this way.