Page 70 of Lucifer's Mirror

I think I’ve rendered her speechless.

Not the reaction I was hoping for. I’m not even sure what that was. I try to keep my hopes in check—less disappointment that way.

She slowly reaches out and takes my hand, holding it between hers as she stares into my eyes, and something shifts between us.

“Amber?” she murmurs, her tone holding a question but also a hint of wonder. Then her eyes sharpen. “You have the stone?”

I know immediately what she’s talking about, and I pull my amber pendant from where it nestles beneath my shirt. She stares at it for a long time, her eyes gleaming as her trembling hand reaches out to stroke the stone almost lovingly.

Then she sighs, a tear trickling from her eye, and she blinks. “I thought it had perished with you, and you were lost to us forever. How…?” Then she gives herself a little shake. She claps her hands, and a young boy, maybe fourteen, runs up. “Erik, see to the horses.”

“Yes, my lady.”

I take back my hand—she seems reluctant to release me, as though I might vanish in a puff of smoke—then I give Stella a rub on the neck and a kiss on the nose. “I’ll check up on you later,” I whisper, and she gives a soft nicker in reply, then allows herself to be led away. My stomach is churning as I turn back.

“Come inside,” the Crone says, leading the way into the house. We all follow. I notice Winter hesitates at the rear, as if unsure whether she should join us, but the Crone gives her a keen glance and ushers her inside.

It’s warm, and I feel instantly at home, a sense of peace settling over me. She leads us down a hallway into a large kitchen with an open fire flickering in a huge grate and a big, scrubbed wooden table. She waves us to it, and I sink onto the bench, my legs suddenly weak and trembling. She busies herself for a minute, getting wine and goblets, and pours us all a drink, pushing the glasses toward us.

“Do you know who I am? Are we related? What happened to me three years ago? Why was I lost? What—?”

She holds up her hand, and instead of answers, I get a question. “Where have you been, child?”

“A town. In the North of England.” She looks blank. “Earth.”

“And how do you come to be in such”—she glances to Thanouq with a smile, then to Khaosti—“illustrious company?”

She sounds like she thinks Khaosti is anything but illustrious, and I again get the distinct impression that she doesn’t like him.

“I sort of crashed into him.” Yeah, not a good answer, but it is the truth.

“I’ve been looking for her for three years,” Khaosti says. “With no luck. And then a week ago, I started getting reports that the shadowguard were active on Earth. I followed the trail and found her.”

“He saved my life.” I’m not sure why I say that, but again, it’s the truth. “Twice.”

“And why were you looking, prince?”

I wonder if he’ll tell the truth.

“For my brother. She”—he waves a hand in my direction—“is the only clue I have on what happened to him.”

She nods. “Your brother loved you. And he trusted you, which I always found a little hard to understand. But you were blood. That means something. Except to your father. How is he, by the way?”

His father? The king?

“He’s well, as far as I know.”

“And is he aware of your whereabouts?”

“No.”

“No doubt he will be soon. He has spies everywhere. I presume you came through the mirror at the forest of Abossmere.”

“We did. And I destroyed it afterward. We weren’t followed.”

“And yet we were attacked by shadowguard three days ago,” Thanouq says. “I don’t know how they found us, but I’m certain they were after the girl. She was injured.”

The Crone’s eyes turn to me. She studies me for a minute, her gaze lingering on my side.