Page 38 of The Eternal Mirror (Lucifer’s Mirror #3)

Titular Problems (aka Welcome to the Shitshow)

W e’ve been here three days, and I’ve learned enough about the workings of the camp to know this meeting is going to be a shitshow the second I slink into the tent.

There’s a long table in the middle. Maps, candles, empty mugs. Around it—people. Too many. All of them talking. Most of them shouting. None of them listening.

Khaosti is already seated close to the entrance of the tent. Maybe he thinks he might need a quick getaway. He turns to look at me as though he senses my presence, and he likely does.

I’ve been avoiding him.

I know, I’m a coward. But actually, I’ve been pretty much avoiding everyone but Josh and Grimlet. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Depressing stuff on the whole—people dying, mating bonds, splintered mirrors, living for eternity. Or more likely, dying very soon.

Honestly, I’m only nineteen, and sometimes I think I’ve had enough.

I spot Sheela near the corner, arms folded tight, jaw clenched. Behind her, Killian is pacing. I slip into the empty seat beside her and lean closer; she looks like she’s been crying, and my heart sinks. “How’s Yasmin?” I ask.

“The same. She won’t eat or sleep. She just stares into the distance. I don’t know what I can do.”

“She needs time. She’ll come around.” But I’m not actually sure that’s true.

I’ve spent some time with the other witches we rescued, but apart from Hella, who had only been a prisoner for a few years, they all seem steeped in apathy, cut off from the world, and with no desire to rejoin it.

Hey, I understand—it’s a pretty shitty world.

They’ve lost an essential part of themselves—their magic—and right now, I don’t know if it’s coming back.

I need to try to get hold of Selene again; I’m just not sure how that happens.

The last two times, I was sort of dragged into the visions.

But I’m a witch; I have the magic to conjure up visions of my own.

Maybe I can get in touch with her. Make a list of questions.

Ryke from the Wolfpack is sitting upright in the chair opposite me, arms crossed, his glare ferocious, as if he’s daring someone to fight him. Which, honestly, someone probably will. The Wolfpack turned up yesterday afternoon, to great consternation among the rebels.

I get it. I mean, up until recently, they were enemy number one.

Khaosti’s elite band of shifter soldiers were known for their ferocity and ruthlessness.

Apparently, with Khaosti leading them, they never lost a battle.

Things haven’t been going so well since.

The legion started out at one hundred, and now there are only fifty-two left. Decimated by Khronus.

The Wolfpack and the rebels are going to have to learn to play nice with each other. They’re on the same side now.

The room has fallen silent, and I peer around.

Everyone is looking at me. Zayne is leaning against one of the tent poles close to the entrance, arms folded.

I recognize some of the other people, but there are quite a few who I’ve seen around the camp but have no idea who they are.

The camp is big. I tried to make a count yesterday—just taking my mind off other stuff—and I reached a thousand before I got bored.

Thorben gets to his feet. I can see he’s readying himself to make a speech, and I suspect I know what’s coming. I’ve been here before, but things are going to be different this time. I need to make my position clear right from the start.

I hold up both hands. “Before you say anything, there is something you need to know. I am not a goddess. Not even close.”

“I can vouch for that,” Zayne puts in.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m also not your hero, your queen, or your moral compass. And I am categorically not going to make any decisions that do not involve me or the people I love.” I stare at Thorben. “And that doesn’t include you. Find someone else.”

Silence drops like a dead body .

Then Thorben clears his throat. “Actually, I was going to suggest that you be a titular leader and—”

“I’m not a titular anything.”

Zayne sniggers. I glare.

Thorben looks a little rattled but continues on bravely. “A figurehead who will give the people hope.”

Can I live with that? I’d rather not, but it’s not totally undoable. “And who will be making these decisions in my titular name?” I ask.

“There is already a council in place. Most of the—”

“We want Prince Khaosti,” Ryke interrupts.

Of course they do. I mean, don’t we all?

There’s a ripple of dissent from the rebel side. One guy—middle-aged, with sharp eyes and no patience—shakes his head. “We didn’t throw off one tyrant to follow another. We vote. We form a council. That’s the way this works.”

“Yeah?” Ryke growls. “Except it didn’t work, did it? We were beating the shit out of you guys. As far as I can tell, you spend too much time arguing about what to do, to actually get anything done.”

Oh, good. It’s that kind of meeting. The let’s-all-insult-each-other kind.

Sheela glances at me, eyes sharp, as if to say do something . But what am I to do? Except I have this horrible feeling that I’m maybe the only one who can do something—the only one they will all listen to. Because, yeah, I remember now. I’m fucking special .

“The prince commands loyalty,” Ryke presses. “From the wolves. From the shifters. If you want their support, you need him.”

“Well, what if we don’t want support from mind-controlled berserkers?” someone snaps.

And just like that, we’re off again.

Thorben bangs his fist on the table. I can see why he looks so tired. This must be exhausting. Silence falls—eventually. He turns to look at Khaosti, who hasn’t said a word and is lounging relaxed in his chair, watching me through half-closed lids.

“What’s your take on this?” Thorben asks. “Do you want to lead?”

Good question. I raise my eyebrows at Khaos, waiting for his answer.

He looks me in the eyes and says, “No.”

He’s just so...succinct.

“So, what do you want?” Thorben growls. Khaos and his lovely personality can have that effect on people. Fast. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Amber,” he says, giving me a small smile. “And only for Amber.”

Behind him, Zayne makes a gagging motion, and I have to press my lips together to stop myself from giggling inanely.

I think I must be a little hysterical because really, there’s nothing funny going on here.

I suspect Khronus will find us, sooner rather than later, and there’s more than enough fighting happening here without Khronus getting involved.

In fact, if he takes his time, we’ll probably all have killed each other.

I can’t help thinking that Khaos should be in charge. Partly because he doesn’t want to be. He has no inherent urge for power. But also, because he’s a born leader and he’s had a lot of practice at giving orders—sort of a blend of nature and nurture.

Also, maybe I’m thinking about myself here.

If he’s in charge, he’s got less time to wear down my reserves.

Because they are wearing desperately thin.

I want him. So much that it hurts. But I’ve told myself I can’t have him.

Because one way or another, I’m going to lose him—I’ll die, or he will, or we both will.

Take your pick. So I have to keep some distance.

Just enough to breathe. Just enough to survive it when the end comes.If it comes.

Voices rise. Hands slam tables. Someone knocks over a cup, and liquid spreads across the map of Astrali like blood.

I sigh. Loudly. Then stare Khaos in the face. “Would you do it for me?”

His jaw clenches, as though he knows exactly what I’m doing. And he probably does.

“Please,” I say.

He gives a sharp nod.

“Okay, that’s settled. I will be titular leader.” I’m actually coming to like that title. “Khaos is in charge of the army, the Council headed by Thorben stays in place, and if you have any concerns about what’s happening, you come to me, and I’ll discuss it with Khaos. ”

Thorben looks at me thoughtfully, but then he sits down. “I agree.”

I glance around the table. There are nods—some more emphatic than others—but I think we have a deal. “Khaos?”

He stands slowly. “I’ll do it,” he says. “For you.”

Yay. We can go have lunch. Though there is one other thing. “Before I go all titular, I actually do have a suggestion.”

“Go ahead,” Thorben says.

“I think we should split into two camps. Shifters in one, everyone else in another.”

A beat.

“You’re suggesting segregation?” someone says, all scandalized.

“I’m suggesting survival,” I snap. “Khronus can still force shifters to shift. I’ve seen it. When that happens, they won’t be your allies. They’ll be your predators.”

“She’s right,” Khaos says. “My father doesn’t care who you are. He’ll turn you on each other and watch you die.”

“They’re not going to be of much use if we have to hide them all away,” someone mutters.

Khaos ignores them. He looks around. “Make it happen.”

And my work is done.

Without another word, I get up and walk out. I make sure not to catch anyone’s eye as I leave.

Because you know what, it might sound dramatic, but right now—I want to be alone.