Page 5

Chapter

Four

T he Land of Reflection has not changed during my incarceration—not that I’d been down there more than a few turns, but prison changes a person. I went in an innocent maiden, and now I’m emerging a hardened woman. Who knows what I am now capable of?

The judgy people that grace this land eye me with the same disdain much of The Hallows do.

My manacle-free hands offer them a little wave and a smile.

I’ve learned the best defense with folk who look down their noses at me is to appear unbothered, and that’s mostly true.

These people don’t have any bearing on my life or future, so why should I give a Bunkum poop about what they think of me?

I think I spot a familiar face. Perhaps the mirror woman from our chambers in the Hallows? “What do they do when they aren’t busy declaring the fairest pecking order?” I ask Erik.

He seems less averse to my presence than our earlier encounter. Probably on account of his king confirming I wasn’t the one who hurt him. Lucky for me, they aren’t the behead the maiden without a trial type of nation.

Erik glances around the courtyard and everyone who catches his eye suddenly finds something else to be interested in. So they fear him?

“Not much, really. They are vain and judgmental beings for the most part. It’s an occupational hazard when attractiveness consumes your every waking tempo. You stop seeing people for who they are and instead focus on that which they show you. It’s dangerous to only look skin deep.”

“But not Eron,” I note. My mirror man is kind, comforting, and careful in his considered words, even when he’s not altogether there.

“No, not Eron,” Erik agrees. “But he’s special.” There’s a wistful glint in his eyes. Ahh, so my mirror man has a suitor of his own. I wonder if he knows? Maybe I can play matchmaker for these two males.

I step forward a little, then turn and walk backward so I can monitor Erik’s facial expressions. “You’re in love.” I don’t pose it as a question, because I can feel it in my bones.

Erik scowls at me before darting his gaze around the courtyard of curious folks. “I do not know what you speak of.”

My grin spreads wide. “Sure you don’t.”

Erik’s eyes widen, and his hand snaps out to grab me.

I jerk back instinctively, and my back slams into something hard before I lose my footing and fall flat on my ass.

An echoing smash makes my nerves jolt. Someone shrieks, and Erik grabs my wrist, yanking me up to my feet.

I swallow and spin to face whatever disaster awaits me.

A pretty couple, both with ice-blonde hair and blue eyes, gawk at me while pointing to the ground where a large mirror lies, cracked into several pieces.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell them. Please, someone tell me that isn’t the equivalent of murdering their child.

The woman is the first of the pair to pull herself together. “You broke our new mirror,” she snaps.

“Watch your tone, Leanne,” Erik warns. “This is the king’s favored person.”

I’ve never been anyone’s favored before. It warms something inside my chest.

“Then she should know the consequences,” Leanne growls. Her male counterpart stands frozen with his mouth dropped open. “That mirror is the latest in Roberto’s line.”

Erik grimaces. “I’ll ensure it’s replaced.”

I lean over the broken pieces and give a little wave. “It still works,” I note as my reflection mimics me.

“Daphne, stop,” Erik grumbles.

Silence falls as the folks of the Land of Reflection give us their full attention, their right hands oddly lifted in the air. Maybe it’s a weird custom, or perhaps an insult? My hand, already in that position, gives them a little wave. Best not to commit a faux pas by not joining in.

They mirror my actions, making me grin. Wow, they are a friendly bunch, after all.

I take it all back. However, now we are caught in a who stops waving first situation.

What’s an acceptable length of wave that says, How are you doing, but don’t actually tell me?

A tempo is a long time when all you are doing is waving.

My hand aches. It’s like a stare off, but with a wave off, and I am determined to not break first.

“Why are they still waving?” I grit out to Erik as I glance over my shoulder to find him also waving at me. Um, I wouldn’t have pegged the burly guard as a waver. He seems more like a stab first, ask questions later sort of guy.

Eron appears at the far end of the courtyard, his silver embroidered coat flapping behind him as he shakes his head while striding toward me. At least he’s not lowering himself to this ridiculousness.

His eyes land on the shattered mirror at my feet, and he grimaces. “Daphne, you’ve broken an unbonded mirror, and now it’s causing your reflection to influence everyone who can see you.”

I blink. They are doing this because I am? Impossible. I clench my fist, and everyone around me stops waving to curl their fingers tight. Oh...

I bring my hand to my face and boop my nose with my index finger. A laugh erupts from my throat at the sight of dozens of snooty folks doing something so ridiculous. “How do I get them to cease?”

Eron grasps my shoulders and spins me away from the mirror. “You stop looking at it.”

“Guards, clean this up,” Erik snarls as Eron leads me away.

“Why didn’t they tell me?”

“They cannot. You must work it out for yourself. It’s part of the complex magic.”

“I’m not a fan of complex.”

He chuckles low. “Yet it seeks you out.”

“Wait, you told me.”

“I’m the king,” he says like it explains everything.

We enter the castle and aim for the same fancy throne room from earlier.

The fracture on the floor is narrower. A self-healing home is a must for me.

Also, if I am to make my life with the knights, which includes a dragon, it seems like a sensible choice.

My gaze takes in the enormous beautiful mirror taking up most of the raised dais behind Eron’s throne. Knowing this is the mirror Malice broke and stole shards from is like staring at an Idol. They’ve added a long dining table to the center of the room, filled with tea and cake.

“This is the Mirror of Whispers?” I say in awe.

“Sadly, yes, this is the original. A mirror which binds my power, and now my mind. Until the shards are replaced, I will remain less than whole.”

I sigh. Malice holds these pieces, or at the very least knows where they are. I can feel it.

“You look a lot better than when I last saw you,” I note as Eron pulls out a chair to the left of the head of the table. I fold myself into it and try not to wince as the wound on my shoulder tugs, releasing a trickle of blood.

Eron frowns at it and snaps his fingers. “Fetch the healer and my commander.”

There are no visible folks answering his command, but I have to assume they are doing his bidding.

Eron folds himself into the high-backed chair at the head of the table. “Malice making herself known after all these annuses was a complete surprise. Her magic is potent, and I was taken off guard.”

“Are you recovered?” I ask.

He grins as he grabs a teapot and pours me a steaming cup. “She might be powerful, but she is still no match for a king. The only reason she bested me was the element of surprise.”

“She stole my sword and then my body,” I tell him, given he was knocked out.

“That’s unfortunate.”

I scowl at him. “It’s more than unfortunate, Eron. She is impersonating me. Idols knows what danger she poses to my sister and my knights.”

He slides a tower of mini cakes my way. “You think they won’t have figured out she is not you?”

I fold my arms, even though my mouth waters at the prospect of cake. “Everyone likes to believe those closest to them would know in an instant, but that is rarely the reality.”

“That’s true. But then again, you aren’t everyone.”

My arms drop. I’ve always found it exhausting holding on to any negative emotion. They drain me fast. “I want to be back with them,” I whisper.

Eron reaches between us and squeezes my hand inside of his. “You are irreplaceable, Daphne Stone. An Idoless among wannabe queens. I can guarantee they already know you are missing from their lives.”

Idoless? I love that. I glance at the vast mirror. “Can we check?”

He nods. “I need to eat, get you mended, and then we can make the trek to my mirror together. Do not fret. We shall have you back in the arms of your faithful knights soon.”

Something settles in my chest at his declaration. I’ve been worried that Malice leaving through the mirror broke our connection. The fear I have is born of a childhood where I’m labeled a burden, a liability, a mistake.

The door swings open, and Erik strides in with a tall slim woman who bares the same scowl as the people in the courtyard.

Eron points at me. “Doris, heal her shoulder.”

She sighs and stalks forward. Without a word, her hands wrap around my wound. She closes her eyes and mutters in a language I’ve never heard. Warmth floods through my veins, making my eyes droop.

“Why didn’t you have her healed?” Eron snaps at Erik.

Erik folds his hands in front of him and positions his feet apart. “She was the prime suspect for your injuries.”

“I pointed out how ridiculous that was,” I add. Am I slurring?

Doris’s hands release my shoulder, and she bows to Eron before grumbling under her breath and leaving the room.

“Eat, Daphne. It will help replenish you,” Eron coaxes. “The healing process saps your energy.”

I pluck up a cake and pop it in my mouth with an indecent groan. Damn, they know how to do dessert here.

“I’ve never put anything so delicious in my mouth.” A giggle slips from me, because that’s not true. I lift my finger. “I amend to only include edible items.”

Erik’s mouth twitches.

“Once we have replenished our energy, Daphne and I will leave for the mirror once again. We need to track down her knights and warn them of the traitor in their midst. Or rather, inform them that Daphne is safe, because I can guarantee they figured out Malice is not their maiden within two tempos.”

Erik’s gaze narrows on me. “Given how your last excursion occurred, I would like to accompany you for your protection.”

I devour three more cakes while they make googly come to bed and fuck me senseless eyes at each other.

They stare at me in shock. “What?” I ask as I suck my thumb to collect an escaped dribble of strawberry jam.

“There were no eyes,” Eron says.

I shrug. “Sure there weren’t.” Erik’s cheeks pinken. “But then why is he blushing like a virgin on her wedding night?”

Eron’s gaze swings back to his commander. “Erik?”

Erik salutes him. “I’ll make the preparations, my king, and return shortly to escort you both.” He spins on his heel and escapes from the room.

Eron slumps back in his chair and blinks at the table like his entire world has been realigned. I shove the cakes toward him. “Here, replenish that new fissure in your soul with sugary goodness. It helps.”

He tilts his head and lasers his gaze on me. “How did you see something I have not noticed in eons?”

“Sometimes it takes an outside perspective to see what is right in front of you.”

“It is most perplexing.”

“Are his feelings unrequited?” I would imagine there’s nothing worse.

He shakes his head. “No, the opposite, and now I’m wondering how much time we’ve lost by not speaking candidly.”

“Time is a greedy bitch. She takes and takes. She makes you wish for her to stay longer when the times are good, and for her to fuck off when they are bad, and yet she does the exact opposite. There is no point grieving for that which you will never own. Instead, grasp your future with both hands and focus on how you can bend it to your will.”

“Do you take your own advice?” he wonders.

“How do you think I’ve ended up with four knights?”

“True. Perhaps you are the Idol of love and relationships.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Idols don’t rule aspects of our psyche. They are narrow-visioned on their narrative.”

“Perhaps you transcend Idol status.”

What is beyond the Idols? No one has ever dared to ask, and now I can’t shake the feeling that this is the key question, capable of unwinding everything we believe.

What, or rather who, came first? Like the capon and the egg debate.

.. it was the capon, clearly, but far too many people still find time to ponder such a simple question.

But this question is far more complex and layered.

Who made the Idols?