Page 34

Another Big Fat Disappointment...

T he Crone stares silently at me, her gaze taking me in from top to bottom and back again, as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

She definitely knows me. She has to. But she remains silent.

I swallow, wiping my palms down the sides of my jeans. Then I step forward and hold out my hand to her.

“I’m Amber,” I say. “Do you know me?”

I think I’ve rendered her speechless.

Not the reaction I was hoping for. I’m not even sure what that was. I try to keep my hopes in check—less disappointment that way.

She slowly reaches out and takes my hand, holding it between hers as she stares into my eyes, and something shifts between us.

“Amber?” she murmurs, her tone holding a question but also a hint of wonder. Then her eyes sharpen. “You have the stone?”

I know immediately what she’s talking about, and I pull my amber pendant from where it nestles beneath my shirt. She stares at it for a long time, her eyes gleaming as her trembling hand reaches out to stroke the stone almost lovingly.

Then she sighs, a tear trickling from her eye, and she blinks. “I thought it had perished with you, and you were lost to us forever. How…?” Then she gives herself a little shake. She claps her hands, and a young boy, maybe fourteen, runs up. “Erik, see to the horses.”

“Yes, my lady.”

I take back my hand—she seems reluctant to release me, as though I might vanish in a puff of smoke—then I give Stella a rub on the neck and a kiss on the nose. “I’ll check up on you later,” I whisper, and she gives a soft nicker in reply, then allows herself to be led away. My stomach is churning as I turn back.

“Come inside,” the Crone says, leading the way into the house. We all follow. I notice Winter hesitates at the rear, as if unsure whether she should join us, but the Crone gives her a keen glance and ushers her inside.

It’s warm, and I feel instantly at home, a sense of peace settling over me. She leads us down a hallway into a large kitchen with an open fire flickering in a huge grate and a big, scrubbed wooden table. She waves us to it, and I sink onto the bench, my legs suddenly weak and trembling. She busies herself for a minute, getting wine and goblets, and pours us all a drink, pushing the glasses toward us.

“Do you know who I am? Are we related? What happened to me three years ago? Why was I lost? What—?”

She holds up her hand, and instead of answers, I get a question. “Where have you been, child?”

“A town. In the North of England.” She looks blank. “Earth.”

“And how do you come to be in such”—she glances to Thanouq with a smile, then to Khaosti—“illustrious company?”

She sounds like she thinks Khaosti is anything but illustrious, and I again get the distinct impression that she doesn’t like him.

“I sort of crashed into him.” Yeah, not a good answer, but it is the truth.

“I’ve been looking for her for three years,” Khaosti says. “With no luck. And then a week ago, I started getting reports that the shadowguard were active on Earth. I followed the trail and found her.”

“He saved my life.” I’m not sure why I say that, but again, it’s the truth. “Twice.”

“And why were you looking, prince?”

I wonder if he’ll tell the truth.

“For my brother. She”—he waves a hand in my direction—“is the only clue I have on what happened to him.”

She nods. “Your brother loved you. And he trusted you, which I always found a little hard to understand. But you were blood. That means something. Except to your father. How is he, by the way?”

His father? The king?

“He’s well, as far as I know.”

“And is he aware of your whereabouts?”

“No.”

“No doubt he will be soon. He has spies everywhere. I presume you came through the mirror at the forest of Abossmere.”

“We did. And I destroyed it afterward. We weren’t followed.”

“And yet we were attacked by shadowguard three days ago,” Thanouq says. “I don’t know how they found us, but I’m certain they were after the girl. She was injured.”

The Crone’s eyes turn to me. She studies me for a minute, her gaze lingering on my side.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just about back to normal.” It’s a lie, but I don’t have time for this. I want to know who I am!

Her eyes narrow for a second as she studies me for evidence to the contrary, then she sighs and turns back to Khaosti. “Tell me what you heard from Khendril.”

“Three years ago, I received a message. He told me he needed my help. He was sending a girl into my keeping. I needed to keep her safe and bring her to you. He said she was to find the location of Lucifer’s Mirror.”

Her eyes flicker at that. “Lucifer’s Mirror. I haven’t heard those words in a long time. Do you know what it is?”

“No.”

“You wouldn’t. It’s one of the many things your father has erased from history.”

“What is it?” I ask, leaning forward.

“A mirror, of course.”

Yeah, ask a stupid question…

“Do you know what happened to Khendril?” Khaosti asks.

“He’s dead.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “By whose hand?”

“The shadowguard, I’m guessing.”

Khaosti jumps to his feet, his glass toppling over and wine spilling onto the smooth wood of the table. His eyes glow golden, and energy pulsates from his body, almost throbbing in the air. A shudder passes through me. So much controlled power. Is it about to get unleashed? I glance at the Crone—I really need to get her name; I can’t keep calling her the Crone. She sips her wine as she watches him, showing not the slightest sign of fear.

The others all seem equally unimpressed and just continue drinking their wine. Zayne hardly even looks up, though I know he’s paying attention.

“Is your tantrum done, prince?” the Crone murmurs.

Ouch. I like her.

Khaosti glares, but then he takes a deep breath and visibly relaxes. “My apologies. He was my brother. I loved him.”

“Maybe the only person you’ve ever loved, I’m thinking.”

Aw, that’s sad.

Khaosti shrugs and then returns to his seat. “At least tell me what he agreed to help you with.”

Her gaze flickers to me. “A baby was left in my care.”

She has to be talking about me. The timeline works. I want to ask, but instead, I clamp my lips closed and listen.

“She held important information and had certain… talents that will be needed to push back the encroaching darkness in the years to come. She was being hunted, and I had to keep her safe. But it became too dangerous to keep her with me. I needed your brother’s help to hide her.”

“We are holding the darkness at bay,” Khaosti says. “We need no help.”

She casts him a contemptuous glance. “If you believe that, you’re more ignorant than I thought. A war has been fought for thousands of years, and while the forces of darkness have been quiet for a while, they are building momentum again, and this last battle will decide the fate of all the worlds.”

I glance at Zayne, but he clearly isn’t following the conversation. Then again, it is in Valandrian, so how could he? He just gives a little lift of his shoulders, obviously even more lost than I am.

“And you think she is the thing that will save us?” Khaosti’s tone is unimpressed, and he looks at me with scorn.

“Us?” the Crone murmurs. “What makes you think you’re on the side of the good? But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I couldn’t keep the child with me.” She casts me an apologetic look. “I tried, but it was impossible. It was easier to hide us apart than together. I sent her to a different world with a guardian to watch over her.”

Khaosti frowns. “You have the power to create the mirrors? I thought that gift was lost from the world.”

“Another of the lies your father would like everyone to believe. Though I can’t create the mirrors myself. I had help. But the magic wasn’t enough to hide her completely. She’s hard to hide from those who seek her; she draws them to her. Eventually, they found her—I knew that would happen. So did the men who chose to give up their lives to keep her safe. Her guardian would use the spell they’d been given to send her on to the next, and then they perished. And so on, until Khendril, the last of my guardians.”

“So, he died protecting her?” He sounds incredulous. Like, what’s so special about me? I think he’d rather have his brother back. And I admit—that hurts.

“Yes, but the spell must have been interrupted. She was lost. I thought she’d perished with Khendril.” She turns her attention to me. “What do you remember?” she asks.

“Nothing. I woke up three years ago. The only thing I had on me was the pendant. I don’t know anything else. Not who I am, where I came from, Khendril. I certainly don’t know where this Lucifer’s Mirror is.”

“And they called you Amber. Very apt.”

I presume she knows my real name. I purse my lips and force out the question. “Please tell me… who am I?”

I hold my breath waiting for her to answer. She looks me in the eyes, and I see pity there. “I can’t.”