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Unlike the other rooms, the plant life was contained to a corner where several shelves were lined with flowers, vines, and weeping greenery. It was strange, considering the whole castle was overgrown in flora.

“You must be the mortal our prince is obsessed with.”

I gasped and turned to see who was speaking, but no one was there.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

“Over here,” said the voice, which sounded like it came from the windows.

I crossed to look behind the heavy curtains.

“No, no. The mirror,” said the voice.

My brows lowered as I stepped in front of the broken shard of glass, but I saw nothing, not even my reflection. I started to peek behind it, thinking that perhaps a fae was playing a trick.

“What are you doing?”

I gasped and released the mirror. It clanked lightly against the wall.

“I thought you might be fae,” I said.

“I told you I was a mirror.”

“Have you always been a mirror?”

“Yes. What kind of question is that?”

“I thought you might have been cursed.”

“I am not cursed. I am enchanted.”

“What is the difference?”

“Perspective, I suppose.”

I stood, silent for a moment, before the mirror.

“You are the Magic Mirror,” I said, recalling my conversation with Wolf about how Casamir’s father had deemed the next king would be chosen.

“So you have heard of me,” he said, his voice filling with pride.

“I do not know much, I am afraid. Only that you are not whole.”

“There is not much to know beyond that,” he said.

I turned to look around the room. “So this must be Casamir’s chamber?”

Though I had been here before, I had not taken the time to observe. I had been too consumed by the elven lord in front of me to focus on anything other than him and survival.

“Have you come in search of him?” he said.

“No,” I said. “I would rather not see him today or tomorrow, perhaps not ever again.”

“That does not bode well for him,” said the mirror.

I glanced at the mirror. “You know about the curse?”

“Youknow about the curse?” he asked.