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She was perfect and so very real. I whirled back, my heart lifting, knowing that she was standing behind me—

No. Only the king was there.

I turned back to Mother—the image of my mother.Just an illusion,I told myself.

My hand trembled as I touched the glass. Her fingertips touched mine, but all I could feel was the cold, hard surface of the mirror.

“Mother, I miss you so much,” I whispered.

She smiled at me, tremulous but true. Her hand quivered against the glass. “Oh, Ofelia, I love you. I love you more than anything.”

“I love you, too.” I glanced back at the king, who’d come closer, his hand soft against the space between my neck and my shoulder. “Heavens, she looks so real!”

Yet her eyes shimmered with tears. Her lips were pressed in a smile that didn’t look quite right.

I pressed my palm deeper into the glass, as if I could touch hers. “She looks sad,” I said, turning away briefly to look at the king. “I thought this was supposed to show me my heart’s desire.”

“These illusions are odd things. Even I do not understand them.” He tucked a curl behind my ear. “Does it unsettle you, Ofelia? Should we leave now?”

“No!” cried Mother. As if she—or the illusion—could not bear the thought of being parted from me.

“Silence,” the king said to the image. “You’re frightening my daughter.”

But Mother’s eyes never left mine. She wordlessly touched the glass, drinking me in with that same desperate expression.As if she wanted to step through the mirror to me.

“It looks so much like her,” I said softly. But it only made me long for her more.

The king gently guided me away from the mirror. “Come, child. It does no good to linger here.”

We swiftly left the strange room, and the thing that looked and sounded so much like my mother—it wept my name.

The guards shut the doors behind us, and I darted around a nearby corner, catching my breath upon a red-and-gold damask settee.

She was so lifelike. But so sad. It felt more like a curse from the gods than a blessing.Look at what you are longing for.

The king lightly took his place beside me on the settee. Without another word, I leaned into his embrace.

“Do not grow troubled,” the king said, his voice sweet and golden as honey. “Your mother will be home from Lantanas in only a few days now. You won’t need that ridiculous mirror.”

I pressed my hand hard against my breastbone. “How I ache,” I whispered. “Seeing her... I just miss her so dearly.”

“It was all an illusion. Just a wonder by the gods. They don’t intend to be cruel, but they don’t truly understand us.”

He sounded so calm. So used to this—magic. True, beautiful magic, the kind the gods used to make the world and all of us. The kind no human could wield or understand.

The gods gave him gift after gift—his youth, this palace, the mirrors.

Butthis. Nothing yet had convinced me as this had; thisutterly perfect facsimile of my mother, so close and so clear, as if I could walk right through to her. This was irrefutable proof. For anyone to have traces of such powerful magic so close to them... it could only mean that they were blessed.

And that meant... that all of Lope’s concerns could be set aside. I had seen no beasts in the garden. There were no women trapped within the Hall of Illusions—only a bit of artifice, a bit of sparkle to show off the wonder of the gods.

Our days could be spent here, joyfully, in the daylit gardens. And our nights could be spent in this enchanted palace.

“I must go,” I said. I had so much to tell Lope. “But thank you, Father. For all that you have done for me.” I smiled. Now that I was past the initial shock, I was grateful for the lovely moment when I got to look into my mother’s eyes again. “It was a sweet gift, seeing her.”

“I have more for you yet,” he replied with a smile. “Tonight will be the biggest fête of the year. Performers, fireworks, more delicacies than you can imagine... I want your heart to glow with happiness. To let all the court know how dear you are to me.”

It sounded sublime. One of my most beautiful dreams, brought to life.