Page 5 of The Eternal Mirror (Lucifer’s Mirror #3)

When Lucifer’s Daughter Walks into a Throne Room...

S omeone shoves me from behind—my money is on the officer trying to look like he’s in charge—and I stumble into the room.

I right myself and glare over my shoulder at him. He reaches out again but then catches my gaze. His eyes widen; I’m not sure what he sees there, but it’s enough to make him back off. I give him a sweet smile—okay, not that sweet—and turn back to face whatever, or whoever, is waiting for me.

The room is quiet, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

And it’s fucking huge, with a big ass throne at the far end.

My guess is that it’s some sort of reception area for meetings, with white and gold marble floors and pale gold walls.

There are no windows—based on the trek we just took, I think we’re deep inside the palace—but when I look up, I find the ceiling is a glass dome, and through it, I can see the stars.

It’s pretty. There’s no furniture except for the throne and a row of plush gold velvet seats along the far wall. Suddenly my legs feel weak.

A man stands at the far end of the room. He’s forty feet away, and I still feel his magic pressing against my skin, crawling up the back of my neck like spider legs. A shudder runs through me.

He nods at the two men. They back away, and I hear the door click shut as they leave the room. We’re alone now, just the two of us: me and my boyfriend’s—AKA my bonded mate’s—dad.

He stands in front of the throne oozing malevolent magic.

Waiting.

I keep my spine straight and try not to look nervous, which, actually, I’m not.

Not anymore. All my nerves have been burned away by my rage and fear.

Fear for Zayne and Josh. Not for me. Just hours ago, I was in Hell, and my father had promised to make me and everyone I care for suffer for eternity.

It didn’t happen. I beat him. But I had come to terms with the idea of my death, and I’d realized that death is not the worst thing that can happen.

Then again, death can be messy and very painful. But there’s no point in dwelling on that...

I approach him slowly, and the air grows thick and oily as I get closer. I come to a halt about ten feet away. My stomach is tying itself in knots. Not fear. Just… okay, fine. A little fear.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. He’s like one of the statues that guard the gate, inhumanely still .

And he looks so like Khaosti, it’s unsettling—same hair, same height, same glow to his amber eyes—but where Khaosti is fire and fury, this man is ice.

He’s dressed in black pants, a loose purple shirt, and long boots, a circlet of gold rests in his black hair. He looks stunningly handsome and pretty normal. Except there’s something so wrong about him that my stomach churns and my mouth floods with saliva. I swallow.

His gaze drifts down my body, lingering on my breasts, which is icky but unsurprising.

I still have my hands cuffed behind my back, which kind of makes my chest stick out.

I think I have enough magic to do something about that.

I whisper a spell, and the cuffs at my wrists click open and fall to the floor. I roll my shoulders and rub my wrists.

He’s frowning at me now, which makes him look even more like Khaos, who frowns at me a lot. I decide it’s time to open the conversation. Maybe start with a compliment. “You look amazingly like your son,” I say. “It’s uncanny.”

He tilts his head slightly, not curious—calculating. “Where is Khaosti?” he asks, his voice soft and smooth as silk over a blade.

“I left him behind. I felt it would be a wise move. I wasn’t too impressed with the accommodations you provided for him last time he was here.”

His eyes narrow, as if he can’t quite make me out. Time to get down to business. I take a step closer and glare. “Where the fuck are my brothers, you fucking asshole? I want to see them now. And I mean right fucking now. ”

His head tilts to one side. “Or you will what?”

I shrug, then give a disdainful sniff. “I haven’t decided yet. But something very, very bad.”

A long pause. Then—he moves.

Just one step.

And the magic in the room tightens, sharp as a sword pressed to my throat.

I hold myself very still.

“I have heard rumors,” he murmurs, walking in a slow circle around me. I twitch. “I do not believe them. They cannot be true.”

I wonder which rumors he means.

“There has not been an alicorn shifter since the goddess herself.” Ah, that rumor. He comes to a halt in front of me. I suspect I know what’s coming next, and I hope he’s in for a big disappointment.

He starts to murmur low under his breath, his gaze fixed on me. The air roils with dark power. It rubs against my skin—too familiar, too deep. Something inside me stirs.

My alicorn blinks awake, for a second panic grips me, but then she settles, and I almost sag with relief. The spell is holding.

Rage flares in his eyes. He grits his teeth and speaks his magic again, louder this time and the air seethes with darkness.

But my alicorn ignores him completely. She’s so cool.

“What is this?” His voice is soft, but every word feels like it’s choosing where to cut.

I shrug and give him a small superior smile. “Your beastmaster magic won’t work on me.” I keep my spine straight, my mouth sharp. My gut’s telling a different story, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Now, are you going to take me to my brothers?”

His anger flares again and my muscles tighten in expectation of pain.

Obviously, I could fight back, but that would hardly get me to Zayne and Josh.

Maybe I could knock him out and use some sort of finding spell.

But I would still need to get through the palace with a whole army between me and my brothers.

In the end, though, he turns away for a few seconds, and when he looks back, he’s wearing a smile like a mask.

“And what do I get in return for your brothers?” he asks.

I frown. “You get me. That’s what you asked for, and here I am.”

“But what are you?”

Good question.

He’s studying me again, as though he doesn’t know quite what to make of me. I sway and realize that I’m exhausted and I’m starving. I haven’t eaten in ages, and I do not do well when I’m hungry. I get snippy and make bad choices. “Just tell me one thing. My brothers—are they alive?”

“Of course.”

There’s no “of course” about it. This guy is well known for throwing people off roofs.

But I’m guessing that’s as good as I’ll get, and I need to keep my strength up if I’m going to get everyone out of this.

“Okay then, how about you feed me, and I’ll tell you exactly what I am.

” Well, as much as I know. “Please.” I’m not above begging for food.

Confusion flickers through his eyes—and then vanishes behind a wall of ice.

I don’t think he’s met anyone quite like me before.

I suppose being a king keeps him separate from the riffraff.

Though, in actual fact, from what my mother told me, at one time my father and Khronus were on the same sort of level in Astrali society.

Both were on the Council that ruled this world before Khronus decided Astrali would be better served by a king.

For a minute, I think he’s not going to feed me, and that sucks, but then he goes to the side of the room and presses something.

A moment later, the door behind me opens, and the man in black crosses the room, bowing to the king.

“Food for our guest,” Khronus says.

“I don’t eat meat,” I say as he passes me on the way back.

I hope he’s quick. My mouth is watering at the thought of food.

I totter over to one of the chairs, and without another word, I sink down and let out a long sigh.

My rage has been sustaining me. But now that I’m here, in the presence of the source of my fury, the last of it drains away.

He makes me…uneasy. But what I feel most right now is an intense weariness.

A sense that no matter what I do, it will make no difference.

This shit will never end. So nothing I do really matters.

If I manage to get Zayne and Josh out of this place, no doubt the gods will find another way to torment me. Because...actually, I have no clue why.

I want to go home. Except I don’t have a home. I recently came to realize that home is people, not a place. And the nearest I ever came to having one was with Hecate. Only that turned out to be a fucked-up lie.

I’m in serious danger of wallowing in self-pity .

Khronus is quiet; he’s watching me, his head cocked to one side, a brooding expression on his face.

“What?” I ask, sounding a little belligerent.

“You remind me of someone. I just cannot think who.”

Do I remind him of my mother? My father?

A little of both? I actually don’t look much like either of them, though I do have my father’s eyes and my mother’s nose.

I decide in that moment what I can tell him.

He wants to know what I am. I will tell him who I am.

Also, maybe suggest that he owes me big time.

But at that moment, the door opens, and a couple of servants enter, wheeling in a trolley loaded with food. They roll it slowly— too slowly—across the room and park it in front of me.

“Thanks, guys,” I say. “This looks fabulous.”

I wait until they leave. Then I hover my hand over the tray and murmur a detection spell—just a quick one. The air shimmers faintly above the dishes, but no warning flares.

No poison. No enchantments.

Which is good news. So I dive right in. There’s crusty bread and creamy butter, ripe tomatoes, hard cheese, a steaming bowl of rice and vegetables, fluffy scrambled eggs, and a bowl of grapes.