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“Yes, Madame,” Dagmara said before adding a smile, “I have been looking forward to meeting him.”

Annette eyed Dagmara from head to toe before finally saying, “Hmm.”

Then she whirled on her heel and stalked away, expecting Dagmara to follow. Quickly, Dagmara flashed a goodbye glance to Urszula before scampering forward to follow Annette.

As they made their way through the castle, Dagmara was fascinated by her surroundings. Mirrors were plastered on every wall, creating reflections everywhere, and the illusion that each space was bigger than the last. Everything was gilded with silver, but its bright metallic shine was almost unnatural.

Being in the Ilusaurian castle reminded Dagmara of her missions as an assassin for King Bogdan. There had been many times where she had to infiltrate a new place, or go to a location she was completely unfamiliar with, but she had always done so in secret or by blending in. Never in her life had she been in such a public position—so vulnerable and so easily scrutinized for any mistake she could make. It made this mission all the more precarious.

Each room they passed through, Dagmara counted at least three more guards. This place was heavily protected, and each new doorway was blocked by an armed man or woman. It would not be easy to snoop around without being noticed.

“You’re quite different than I recall,” Annette stated.

“Recall?”

“We still have your family portrait from years ago. Before Azurem cut ties with Ilusauri, as you know.”

Dagmara stiffened. “Well, that was a decade ago. I have matured since then.”

Annette side-eyed Dagmara’s figure before returning her attention to the path in front of them. “Yes, clearly. I didn’t expect you to be so…filled out.”

Dagmara’s heart dropped in her chest. “Artists can do anything. Maybe you should get a portrait commissioned sometime. I’m sure the artist could even make you look beautiful.”

Annette whirled to face Dagmara and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop in her tracks. “You would be wise to watch your tongue around the king. He is short tempered.”

Dagmara already feared meeting the king. Now, having his royal advisor give a sharp warning only made Dagmara even more fearful.

Taking Dagmara’s silence as resignation, Annette continued, this time at a brisker pace.

The entrance to the royal wing was far different than Azurem’s. Instead of an elaborate cascade of waterfalls, the walkway was made entirely of mirrors. The walls, floor, and even ceiling were reflective, making the dozen chandeliers and guards feel infinite. Unease crept through Dagmara’s entire body. She could barely walk straight or find the next door amid the chaos.

Then they stopped at a black door, lined in silver. Annette raised her hand and pounded against the frame. “Princess Magdalena has arrived,” she announced, nearly shouting.

There was a moment of silence that stretched on forever. Finally, Dagmara heard one word, crisp and terrifying:

“Enter.”

Annette gave Dagmara a smile, though it wasn’t kind. “Good luck, Your Highness.”

Dagmara swallowed the lump in her throat. Letting out a deep breath, she reminded herself why she was here. She was saving Magda. She was getting medicine for her brother. She would find proof that Claude killed Bogdan and Aleksy, and that would be the end of this ruse. She didn’t fear Claude because he was a murderer—she feared he would discover her true identity.

And what if he didn’t kill her if he found out? He would know she wasn’t a guardian, and he could use his mind powers on her, torturing her.

Shuddering, Dagmara shoved everything from her mind as she entered the room to meet the King of Ilusauri.

CHAPTER 17

Magdalena

Magda’s eyes barely opened, heavy with debilitating grief. Her body jolted forward, and her stomach surged with a falling sensation. She stood in a dark space—alone. All around her was a void of darkness, with no apparent escape.

“You run from me,” a voice echoed from every direction.

Magda held her breath, startled at the sound, searching every inch of the dark realm for the source of the voice, but not a soul could be seen. “Who’s there?” she called out. Was it her brother, trying to reach her from the great beyond?

A stark silence followed, as if there was no breathable air to carry the voice in the empty space.

“Who’s there?” she shouted louder, spinning in all directions.