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“And he expects me to have already learned how to glassfaire?”

Mara’s palms began to sweat at the sheer intensity of Evrardin’s gaze. She wanted to curse out his ruggedly handsome face and his body’s reaction to her this morning for making her suddenly wracked with nerves in his presence. Not that he was handsome to her , but she recently realized, after getting so close to him in the library, and earlier in the sitting room with Aevum, that there was something that others might find attractive in his grunginess. And that startled her.

His dark hair always had curly strands cascading onto his forehead and on the nape of his neck; the bits by his ears were peppered ever so slightly. He had overgrown stubble that somehow managed to consistently look like he had shaved a week ago. His deep brown eyes captivated her when she saw them in the light, his irises having the slightest hint of green. His features were sharp, but in a jagged semblance where he reminisced a nascent marbled statue that had yet to be polished. His eyes were always heavy when he glanced at her, his dark circles reflecting Mara’s. He stood tall, like no one else could command him even though he was devastatingly loyal to the crown and did anything Acastus said.

She stared at the scar that bisected his lips, about how long-since-healed it appeared. How the lightness of it stood in such stark contrast to the depth of his dark skin. She wondered what he had done to earn that, and if the other man looked worse. And the faint scar she saw on his collar when his tunic was unbuttoned wide enough, thinking of how it trailed beneath the cotton of his shirt, and she wondered how many women ever had the pleasure of seeing how far it went, tracing it with soft fingers, raising gooseflesh on his skin. To hear his husky voice as he told them the story behind it, maybe clutching the women so close to his body as he spoke that they could feel the rumble from his chest, his eyes growing lustful as he appraised their feminine curves.

Mara almost choked when she caught her reverie, scolding herself for thinking about Evrardin in such an amorous light. She need to remember that he lied to her—but she was beginning to question why she should care to hold that grudge. And she was to marry the prince.

So many reasons to dislike him , she thought. And yet, there were also so many reason to like him. Perhaps even more so than the former.

Evrardin stole her from her inner torment. “He expects more than that, Princess.”

She sighed, kicking her feet like a child as he escorted her down the many decrepit halls of Kairth, trying to channel that lingering desire out through her feet. She strolled around a shattered windowpane, glass scattered on the ground, a cool breeze casting in and shifting the cobwebs and moth-eaten drapes.

“And if I can’t give him what he wants?”

Evrardin didn’t look at her, instead, he kept his eyes forward, his hands clenched at his side, silent.

A large wooden door saved her from several tortuous minutes in silence beside the captain, its hinges propped open, letting the sound of the prince echo into the hall. When she stepped through the threshold, she couldn’t help but marvel. The room was rather formidable, the expanse of every wall covered with mirrors. They were all different sizes, some ordained in ornate frames. Some were rusted with splotches of smog that blurred the glass. Some touched the floor and stretched up far beyond Mara’s reach. They fit together like a motley assortment of puzzle pieces taken from all different places, not a single pair from the same home.

“What is all this?” she asked absentmindedly, slowly spinning, witnessing her reflection dance between mirrors like she was trying to catch it. Sconces sat awkwardly between mirrors, a flicker of golden light beaming from one end of the room to the other. The beauty of it was almost harrowing.

“It’s all for you, my love,” the prince hummed.

Mara halted and looked over at him.

This wasn’t for her; she didn’t want to glassfaire. She had seen nothing but misfortune befall those who passed into the Veil, including herself. And the prince knew it wasn’t really for her either. But it was unspoken that the semantics of it didn’t matter. The prince needed her to do this for him, and she needed to do this if she wanted to live. It was that simple.

His hands were held tightly behind his back and his face was tilted down at her with an aggravating sense of arrogance, but she could see his muscles beneath his tunic spread taut. He was on edge.

Lord Alfson stood far too regally behind Cas, his face pointed like it always was when she saw him. “I expect you’re quite ready to glassfaire,” he said with haughty disposition. She’d give anything to release the quips that lined her tongue.

The prince impatiently rolled on the balls of his feet and waved her over. “Come.”

She slowly approached and he grabbed her shoulders, ruffling her silken dress, turning her so she was facing a lengthy mirror. She stared at both of their reflections and held back a wince.

She remembered the excerpt she had read earlier, thinking back to the words. She was surprised to learn about the first glassfairer—he had been lost to what was happening, disoriented in a land where he forgot all sense. He had spent too long a time exploring a realm he was not welcome to. Her mother always told her that those who mirror traveled had to act with great haste. If one was to prolong their lingering in the realm of the gods, you’d be met with a terrible, inconceivable fate.

Though, they never perfectly fit into this realm, your reflection the opposite of who you truly are. Then she wondered, if someone already existed here as evil, would that mean their demonic-self would be benevolent? Would Acastus’ reflection be good and kind-hearted, then? Maybe she’d like to meet this version of him.

“It’s rather straightforward,” Lord Alfson began, though he had no room to talk when she was the one conducting the task. “Simply break through the mirror and step into the Veil. Not even your full body. The prince would be satiated with a hand or leg for the time being.”

“How generous,” she dully smiled. She had a feeling no amount of effort would truly satiate the prince.

The prince grinned. He wore a cravat today that enveloped most of his neck. He appeared more covered every time she saw him. She thought it odd summer attire, but she kept that thought lodged in her throat.

“So, Princess,” the prince crooned. His voice was mellow and even, like a practiced singer. If she didn’t know any better, she might have been captivated. “Show us what you have been working on with the use of the magick blood that now courses through your veins.” He nudged her closer to the wall of mirrors.

Mara turned and grimaced. “I…It will take time.” Mara recalled all the information she had read. “I have to root myself in this realm before I cross to the Veil.” She had to keep her footing here to not let her reflection steal her place.

The prince nodded but she could see the frustration brewing on his features, his eyebrow twitching marginally. “Go on, then.”

Mara gave him one last glance before she approached one of the grander mirrors. She tried to think about everything that would root her in this realm. Her brother. Her father. Jessamine. The chance of returning home. And without her consent, Evrardin willed his way into her thoughts.

She shook her head, putting him at the very bottom of the list. She took a breath before going through the list again: seeing her brother’s face. Getting the chance to curse her father out then falling into his arms as he held her, stroking her hair like he would when she was a child. Jessamine’s warm scent of milkweed and sugared plums, her mouth curved up absentmindedly as she rambled on about some fantastical notion she had for her future.

Grounding herself was something she could do, but the part she struggled with the most: she had to want this. She had to want to travel through the mirror. If she could manage that, her heritage would do the rest.

Mara tentatively placed her palm against the reflection, swallowing gulps of air, trying to keep her chest from rising too rapidly. She did want to glassfaire if it meant making Acastus more amicable. She didn’t want to cause a disturbance. If this is why Acastus wanted her as his bride, then she’d give it to him.

Mara hadn’t felt her hand sinking precariously into the mirror’s surface, but she knew it was happening when her fingers weren’t stopped by the glass. She could sense Cas inching closer, his eyes sparkling in her mind as he witnessed her magick. Mara squeezed her eyes tighter, willing all the strength to keep her thoughts flowing in the direction she wanted them to. She wanted this .

The path she walked began to waver as her heart pounded, her thoughts flashing with her mother. The way she died getting caught between realms.

She didn’t want to do this. This couldn’t be lower on her list of activities she wanted to do, right under prying her toenails off one by one.

Her eyes squeezed so hard together she was beginning to get a headache. No , she told herself. She wanted to do this. For her family. To keep Cas wanting to marry her.

She fell into war with her mind.

Abruptly, the connection fell when she thought back to how betrayed she felt the day her father gave her hand away to Acastus. She didn't want this. What she did want was to go home. Though, even now, she imagined home wouldn’t feel quite right. She wanted to see her father’s face, but at the same time, it made her nauseous to think about him. Tears welled in her eyes when she couldn’t place her home in any tangible location.

Mara’s hand felt like it was being licked by flames, then it quickly shifted and she thought her whole hand was stuck under a pile of burning embers. Her eyes shot open and she stumbled back, tripping and falling to the floor. She screamed, her arm singed with all-consuming heat.

Acastus looked at her dumbfounded, unmoving, regarding her as she began to weep, her body molten. She cradled her hand to her chest, her vision blurring and inking at the edges.

She could hear the men talking, but it sounded like her ears were swollen with water, their words indistinguishable. The heat from her arm began swimming a steady stream into the rest of her body. She bared her teeth in pain. She didn’t know how she could survive this severity for much longer, her mind going numb.

A voice managed to break free from the rumbling. “Princess!” Evrardin squatted on his haunches before her. He reached out to grab her shoulders, to shake her to his attention, but she yelped at the contact. “What is it? What hurts?” he asked frantically.

The tears sizzled as they streaked her cheeks. He was all she could see when she willed her eyes to him. Everything else was going black. “Hot,” she cried, her voice breaking. “I feel like I’m on fire.” She ended her sentence with a whine, unable to speak further, afraid steam was coming out her throat.

Evrardin took a moment to think, then moved like he wasn’t thinking at all. He swept Mara into his arms against her mumbled protests.

Cas was in his ear. “Where are you taking her?”

Evrardin ignored him as he shifted into a sprint before the prince could order him to stop, Mara cradled to his chest. The few bits of armor he donned were a cooling relief, but that too turned warm from her lasting contact. Mara’s vision moved out of focus as she let Evrardin carry her. She rocked up and down as he ran, his steps unsteady. He looked down, her eyes fluttering, her mouth open as she panted. “Hang on,” he promised.

“Make it stop,” she murmured. She swore her body was going to be covered in burn scars by the time this was over. She had never felt such pure agony before.

“I’m trying, liten rev, ” he said in soft distress. He didn’t look back at her as he descended two flights of stairs and hurried out past the gardened courtyard.

All time seemed to slip away from Mara as she laid helplessly in his arms. She wished he would just put her down already, she couldn’t stand his contact for much longer. His arms were just suppressing the heat against her body.

Her eyes opened, not sure how long she had them closed for, as she heard the splashing of water. Evrardin’s gate slowed, but he still moved hot-footed, forcing his legs to slosh through the sea. A few more steps and he was waist-deep, plunging them both into the cerulean ocean as he toppled forward.

Mara gasped for air as she sank with him, her whole body melting in the waters. He held her close as he waded deeper until he was standing on his feet and only his head and shoulders poked out of the tide.

He clutched Mara against his chest, allowing her hair to get wet to cool her face off as well as her flaming body. Mara was breathing so rapidly that she thought she might be choking.

She flailed and grabbed onto his shoulders, clinging around him. Evrardin hesitated before his hands found the low of her back and pressed her firmly against him. The immediate fear of being forced into the cistern filled her. She was back there again, drowning in hands that clawed and pulled at her. She didn’t want to go back.

She hadn’t realized she was mumbling no over and over again until Evrardin cooed in her ear. “You’re safe. I’m here. You’re just in the sea. M’not gonna let anything hurt you.”

His hand came up to stroke her hair and she loosened in his arms, sinking against him, her body’s tension slowly ebbing away with the push and pull of the icy water.

“You can’t promise me that.” Her voice was hoarse, her face still buried in the crook of his neck, her arms strangling him as she tried to catch her breath. The heat still thrummed in her veins, but the cold water was matching it, making her sigh in clamorous relief.

“And yet, I’m going to anyway.”

Mara’s legs wrapped around Evrardin as she clung to him, her body settling into his hold, allowing the cold water to surround her. His hands stayed firmly on her back as he listened to her panting, waiting for her breathing to steady. The waves were gentle at this hour, rocking their bodies back and forth. Several minutes passed until Mara became conscious and timidly pulled away from him, her arms on his shoulders, her face meeting his.

They were in the water farther than Mara had waded earlier; so deep, that Evrardin almost couldn’t touch the bottom when waves rocked through them.

“I don’t know how to swim,” she said in distress like he might let her go now that she seemed to be springing back to her normal self.

“I won’t let you drown,” he said, his voice far lighter than his shouting words from earlier.

“Good,” she breathed. “Because I’d never forgive you for that.”

“Naturally.” He smiled as if relieved to hear her attitude, and Mara’s breath caught at the unfamiliar sight. His eyes seemed to sparkle in his grin, Mara’s mouth becoming dry.

The corners of her mouth began to tilt up to mirror him, but they halted when she realized her legs were tightly wrapped around his waist. “Oh. Uh,” she stuttered, her legs falling away so she was floating solely by holding onto his shoulders. “Sorry, I…”

Evrardin’s arms went lower, going under the backs of her thighs and heaving her so she had no choice but to let her legs tangle around him again. She made an odd noise as he forced her to hold on to him. His arms brushed her bare thighs as her dress floated upward. She would have tried to suppress the blush rising to her face, but she knew she was already beet-red from the fever.

“The only reason the nereids haven't stolen me yet is because I’m holding on to you,” he said, reasoning why he wanted to keep her so close. Evrardin’s words sent a chill through her. He made it sound like she was doing him a favor.

He stood there with her in his arms until she began to get gooseflesh, her body spiraling with ice. Her teeth were about to start chattering when Evrardin began to exit the waves. She hadn’t even thought about how cold he must have been as he stood there with her. His fingers had gone blue, but somehow, she knew he would have stayed in that frozen ocean for as long as it took.

Mara didn’t fight him as he carried her. Her eyes widened, a nereid staring back at her in the distance over Evrardin’s shoulder, her hair a deep green that glimmered bluer when she moved. She could have sworn she saw the creature smile before diving back under the waves.

When they reached the sandy beach, he slowly dropped her legs so she could stand on her own. She adjusted her dress, his hands lingering on her waist a moment too long.

When she looked up at him on unstable legs, she realized he was staring at her body. A bit confused, she glanced down to see her dress clinging to her every curve, her nipples pebbled and her breasts visible from the sopping caress of the fabric. Her hands went to cover herself in embarrassment and Evrardin’s eyes shot to hers.

She thought he was about to mouth an apology, but instead, he said, “Your slippers.”

Mara raised a brow and flashed her eyes downward. Her slippers must have fallen off in the water because now her bare toes were sinking into the sand. Before she could utter any sort of response, Evrardin swept her up into his arms again.

“Ev!” she shrieked. He began walking. Of course he wasn’t willing to entertain the idea of her making her way back over the grounds and through the rocky terrain of the castle without something on her feet.

She huffed in annoyance and the edge of Evrardin’s lip curved. She unwillingly clung to him, the breeze sending cold shudders up her spine now that she was soaking wet. She gave a mirthless laugh, imagining how odd they must have seemed to any onlookers: Evrardin carrying the princess in a mad dash to the shore; them both coming back, her still in his arms, but now they were drenched; sand falling from her hair that was plastered to her back.

She buried her face against his chest, hiding from the people she knew they were passing. She could feel their eyes burning holes in the back of her head. “Are they all laughing?” she asked him quietly, her words muffled against the leather of his tunic.

Evrardin’s fingers pressed into her flesh tighter, almost like he was itching to physically shield her from the onlookers. “If any of you value your well-being, I suggest you go about your day and quit fucking gawking at your princess.”

The few lords and ladies quickly settled back into whatever pulled their focus before the captain and princess entered their vision. They were smart not to cross the captain.

“Thank you,” she murmured, tilting her chin so she could look at him.

She watched as he bit the inside of his lip. “Yeah, well, I’m sick of them treating others’ sorrows as some wicked form of entertainment.”

Mara didn’t know why, but her heart skipped a beat.

Another guard met them at the gates, his face disguised by his helm. “Prince Acastus is requesting your presence in his chambers, Captain.”

Evrardin nodded. When they were out of earshot, he grunted in annoyance.

“Are you in trouble?”

Evrardin made an odd sound in his chest. “Probably.”

She pondered with that for a moment. “And me?”

“What about you?”

“How mad do you think he’ll be?”

“Mara…”

“I know he’s going to be mad. Don’t lie to me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he retorted, shifting Mara in his arms to get a better hold, his hand brushing just below her breast.

“I failed. I know he’s going to be livid. This is all he wanted me for, and I can’t even give him that.” She willed the tears away, afraid of appearing even more pathetic.

Evrardin’s gaze hardened, and Mara balked when he didn’t respond.

He brought her to her rooms, carrying her to her bed and setting her down gently. He appraised the arm that had been lodged in the mirror, her skin charred and turning red the further it spread. The ocean’s chilled waters had done a good job of numbing the pain, but it still brewed beneath the surface.

He quickly looked away and hauled the large bunch of blankets at the foot of her bed around her to warm her even though she had stopped shivering now that her body temperature was evening out.

He pulled the blanket around her neck and paused, gaping at her. Her cat-like eyes were wide as she waited for his countenance to give something away. She thought he might say something, but if he was debating it, he decided not to.

He let her blanket go and Mara’s hands replaced where his had been. Without a second glance, he left her, her handmaidens rushing to her side before she could call out to him.