“What’s wrong?” Lorn asks when I pull away from him.
“Nothing, I just saw something that made me think of my dad. I’d forgotten all about it until right this second.” I stride over to the door and pause in front of it. “Open the mirror vault,” I call out into the room, feeling like an idiot, but Lorn said the roots would listen if I bossed them around.
The glowing list on the door instantly disappears. There’s a quiet whoosh that moves behind the wall, and then the distinct snick of an opening lock comes from the door itself. I back up as it swings open to reveal an antechamber filled with mirrors.
All different sizes and shapes greet me. Some gleam in the light, looking new and pristine, while others appear ancient and fragile. Every inch of every wall is covered in hanging mirrors, and I spot a rack that holds the ones made to lean and not hang. They’re framed in gold and jewels, wood, and tarnished metal. Some don’t have frames at all, just raw edges that look worn down by time.
“I forgot he collected these,” Lorn declares almost reverently. “My father has quite a few of your father’s collection still hanging in the royal offices and rookeries. He couldn’t bring himself to take them down.”
I hold my breath as I enter the vault, and a sea of reflections suddenly surround me. I stare at the repeating patterns of flame-colored hair, jade green eyes, and smooth alabaster skin—thanks to the charmed anklet I’m wearing.
“Treasure looks different to every dragon,” I whisper to myself as I take the mirrors in. “I asked my father why he liked them so much when he was showing me around his office. There was a whole wall of different shapes and frames. Some of the reflections were shiny and bright, and others were worn and warped, but he cherished each one,” I tell Lorn longingly as I let the memory painfully rise to the surface.
My pace is measured and calm as I walk deeper into the antechamber, and I carefully and discreetly begin searching the glass surfaces for a symbol, one my father told me and Enslee about. A crest he discovered that will turn a simple mirror into so much more.
“He always hung the mirrors in a room so he could see Four Tiers and Paragon City in their reflection. Did you know that?” I turn and ask Lorn, who’s respectfully still standing outside in the main part of the vault.
Lorn shakes his head.
“He told me it was so he could always see a reflection of what he was fighting for and the people who would suffer if he wasn’t the best king he could possibly be every second of every day.”
I run a finger over the intricate details of a pretty floral frame, but then I move on because it isn’t what I’m looking for.
“He spent every second of every day worrying about The Horde and the people of Drameric. He did everything he could to be the best possible leader for everyone…and they killed him.”
Emotion pricks my eyes and I try to blink it back.
“They killed his babies right in front of him. Then his mate.” My voice cracks and a tear escapes and flees down my cheek. “And then they ripped him apart, like they hadn’t already shattered him, tortured him, destroyed everything good he ever did or tried to be. He wanted the best for his people. The best for Drameric. And that’s how they repaid his efforts.”
I shake my head, rage and sorrow swirling and churning until all that’s left in me is the weapon that will make them pay for what they did. I stare into the span of my light green eyes, each of them the very shape and exact color of my father’s eyes. I let myself pretend for a moment that he’s here, looking back at me, guiding me to find what I need.
And then just like that, I see it.
A crest, no bigger than a thumb print, etched into a mirror that takes up a third of the back wall. It’s not the cure to the Syphon curse, but it might very well be the key to finding it.
I drift toward the sizable rectangular mirror with an intricate bronze frame. With each step, my reflection grows larger and crisper. I don’t recall ever seeing this mirror when my father was showing us his collection in the keep, but I’m drawn to it like the beacon of hope that it is.
“Can I have this?” I ask reverently, turning to look at Lorn.
He offers me a sad smile, his countenance somber and reverential. “You can have anything you want, Ever. All of it is yours now.”
I stare at the scion, his words settling in my cracks and turning to cement.
All of it is yours nowechoes in my depths.
Not yet, but it will be.
I give Lorn a grateful nod and turn back to the mirror. My thoughts are frantic with plans I’m eager to execute, but on the outside, a dangerous calm has washed over me. For the first time since I was taken by The Horde, I see a path, a way to find what we need.
I’m going to break this curse on the Syphons. I feel it in my sorcai-cursed blood. I’m going to fix what never should have been broken. And then I’m going to hunt down everyone who had a part in it and teach them the true meaning of pain.
I nod and my reflection nods back at me. “I think I’ll hang it in my room,” I tell Lorn absently as I study my hardened features in the mirror. “Maybe it will keep the bastards that killed my father from sneaking up on me too.”
Chapter 29
MY THOUGHTS ARE A FRENETIC tangle of anticipation, simmering anger, relief, and tempered determination. Plans and strategies jostle for prominence in my mind as I’m distractedly led through the white stone halls of King’s Keep. Small groups gather in the large chambers we traverse, while others rush around, busy with final preparations for tomorrow’s Naming. There’s a noticeable increase in guards standing sentinel in passageways and manning various entrances. Security has most definitely been heightened, but that’s to be expected with the influx of dragons to Four Tiers.
Traffic around the keeps has more than tripled, and there’s an eager buzz in the air that wasn’t there before. I ignore it all because I have no idea what to make of any of it. Tomorrow at my Naming, I will finally come face-to-face with King Noctis. He hasn’t sought me out the entire time I’ve been here. He’s made no attempts on my life. I haven’t been interrogated, not the way I thought I would be anyway. In fact, my time here in Four Tiers has been the opposite of unwelcoming.
