Clothed and armed, I exit my chambers. Gage is keeping watch outside, ready to alert me at the first sign of the countess’s return. Inside, the palace is like a museum with its Greek architecture and grand paintings. When I turn a corner, the next hall hosts square pools and miniature bridges. Whoever designed this place housed a brilliant mind. What I’d give to create again. To be done with this saving-the-Reflections nonsense and do what I want for a change.
I scratch the back of my head. Where did that come from? Of course I want to save the Reflections. For everyone. For El.
But what about me?
I shake my head as if to physically eject the selfishness from my brain. When this is over I may need a few days’ sleep to recover.
I scan the hall. Turn down another. Guardians pass me at random, but no one questions me as I make my way around. Why would they? I’m their guest. The man who alerted them to the intruders and the Void. I can obviously be trusted.
Morons, the lot of them.
What’s happening to my mind?
At the next corner I pause. A broad grin spreads. It’s too easy. Her most prized possession, displayed for all to see?
The indoor garden is a sight to behold, more striking than any I’ve witnessed. Wisteria hangs from every balcony and column. Roses blossom in all shades of corals and auburns and golds. Parrots squawk and flap from perch to perch. Flamingos wade in the various lily ponds stationed throughout the naturally lit space.
And at the center of it all sits a platform, and on the platform a pedestal, and on the pedestal a single blue rose the color of the night sky.
One hand on the hilt of my sword, I creep forward. Caution has me aware of what lies in my peripheral vision, but hunger to obtain my prize and move on rushes my steps. This could be a trap. Yet not a single Guardian detains me.
I must be a better thief than I believed. Self-satisfaction fills me. Won’t Mistress Isabeau be pleased—?
My steps cease. What am I thinking? What am I doing? Did I call Isabeau mistress? Perhaps not aloud, but—
I catch my reflection in the nearest pool and all blood drains from my skull. In the time it took for me to venture from my chambers to the garden, the Void spread. Its vines peek above my shirt collar now, threatening to choke my neck. I recoil from the wavy image, and it’s in this moment I see it. The more I justify my wrongful methods, the more I convince myself what I am doing is for the greater good, the more the Void and I become one.
But my intentions are pure. How can the Void take over?
I don’t have time to ponder the indications. The ground shakes and the garden begins to come apart around me. The flamingos go haywire, the parrots scream, and the pedestal at the center tips.
That’s when I sprint for it. Trap or not, the rose must be taken. It’s the only way to obtain the mirrorglass bottle, which is the key to undoing El and Ky’s bond. Without the bottle, the second ingredient is useless.
I leap onto the crumbling platform and snatch the rose just before it’s crushed by a chunk of ceiling. With the thorny stem between my teeth, I make haste for the nearest exit.
Isabeau had better be grateful. My third and final gift is acquired. This rose had better be worth it.
Of course it’s worth it.
El is worth everything.
THIRTY-SIX
All at Once
You know those moments in life that are pivotal and concrete, while at the same time surreal? Like, I’m here, this is happening, but I also question it.
Is this happening?
Is this real?
“My sincerest apologies, Your Highness.” Countess Ambrose furnishes a slight bow of her head as she reaches to help me to my feet. She looks out of place among the settling dust and debris. An angel among wreckage. “You must understand my first priority is my people. I couldn’t have them threatened by anyone or anything.”
I furrow my brows and nod but don’t speak. I’m unsure what to believe at this point. Is this woman to be trusted or another Mom would warn to be chary of?
“Zane,” the countess says. “Please assist the other members of the crew.”
The Guardian with kindness hidden behind his eyes scoots past us, picking through chunks of ceiling and cage. The task is nothing to his broad arms and legs.
Ky rises beside me. Dusts himself off. His fingers twine easily with mine, as if this is the most natural thing in the Reflections.
I squeeze his hand. Hi, I think toward him.
“Hi,” he thinks back, squeezing my hand in return.
“If you will follow me.” The countess turns, her toga swishing. “I believe we have much to discuss.”
We follow her out of the dungeons, the remainder of our crew falling into line behind us.
Ky puts an arm around my shoulder, leans in to kiss my temple.
Guess everything is out in the open now. No reason to hide anything anymore.
I peek backward, release a sneeze I can’t continue to hold in. Then I breathe a sigh of relief when I see each one of us is accounted for.
Gunner and Flint are a little worse for the wear, their faces and arms matted with blood. Clothing disheveled and dirtied. They actually look more like pirates now. The kind that never bathe.
“You think you look much better?” Ky thinks.
Oh, shut up.
He gives an audible laugh.
Cheeks lifted, I shake my head before looking over my shoulder once more.
Charley walks alone, then behind her my sisters walk hand in hand, Ebony leading our youngest sibling like one might lead a lost child. Both have enough dust in their hair and on their faces, they could be ghosts. I reach up and wipe at my cheeks with my sweatshirt sleeve. When I pull it away, a layer of grime cakes the fabric. Please let the Fourth Reflection have decent hygiene facilities.
Up and out of the Thatsou Catacombs we venture, but rather than returning us to the surface, the countess leads us through a door that opens to a long—and when I say long, I mean loooonnnngggg—set of stairs. They’re wide and deep, ornamented with the same green and gold stones on the steps curving through the Threshold. Natural light filters between cracks in the underground ceiling, causing the stones to wink and glisten. Sand coats the steps and the air is misted with salt. This entire Reflection smells like a day at the beach. The stairwell seems miles long, climbing up, up, up, plateauing, and then diving down, down, down. Down? How much deeper can we go?
“Right?” Ky says in my head. “You’d think we’d be in the heart of the ocean by now.”
I roll my eyes. Wow. Titanic reference. Is that really the best you can do?
“Aww, c’mon. That was pretty good.” He puffs out his chest.
Oh brother.
Winking, he lifts our joined hands to his lips and kisses my fingers.
You win, I think.