She was going to kill Selene.
And Selene wasn’t going down without a fight. She thought of the worst she could do: flowers grown in Priya’s lungs choking out her breath. The wind sung into a thousand cuts, bleeding Priya dry. A lightning strike to the heart. She could hurt Priya, or she could destroy her.
Selene sang the dark.
It swallowed the room. This wasn’t the darkness of the mirror; it was merely the absence of light. And it was enough. Selene danced out of the way of the ice. It struck the wall, clattering uselessly to the ground.
Priya sang for light, but it didn’t matter. Selene’s darkness was stronger. Heady with power, she compressed the darkness. What would she have to do, to make it like the dark in the mirror? What would she have to do to give the darkness life? Slowly, she could feel the dark bubble. Fizzing with a new sense of autonomy, moving with a renewed purpose.
From the dark, Priya wove the melody for growth. Vines burst from Selene’s drawers and floorboards and pockets. They tangled on the floor, wrapping up Selene’s calf. Thorns cut into her skin.
The magie du sang came to her, unbidden, waiting for a command. Magic and magic, lifting from her blood and misery. All she had to do was to want.
She wanted Priya to stop.
Priya’s song cut off.
A terrible knowing washed over Selene. She thought of the ghost and the awful things he might have done to get himself locked in the dark. Blood and teeth, he’d said, and the feeling he’d gone too far. Selene knew that feeling well, knew what she had done to protect her own life. She’d lived with that guilt for so long.
She didn’t need another stain on her soul.
Selene let the darkness drop.
Priya was on her knees, hands buried in the mess of vines. She was screaming, but there was no sound. The blood vessels in her eyes popped. Her face was a mask of fear.
Selene didn’t want to win like this. She wanted to best Priya on the stage, for everyone to see. She was better than this.
Undo it,she told the dark.Give Priya back her voice.
The magie du sang did not yield. Selene could feel its pulse and the way it pushed back, like a stuck piano key. The shadows had taken something. They didn’t want to give it up.
Red ran down Priya’s cheeks. Everything came back to blood.
She wished the ghost was here to tell her what to do next. If only she had a mirror, a monster, and a dying dream.
All she had was herself.
The edges of the magic were tangible, like the creases of a page. She’d always given to the shadows, never tried to take anything back. She’d fed it with her blood and misery: a piece of sky, a bloodless heart, a fragment of the past. To get what she wanted, she had to give more.
The ghost had shown her when he’d healed her. He’d given so much blood, and whatever secret pain he’d held inside. Selene brought her foot down against one of the many thorns, not allowing herself to flinch as they sank deep into her skin. She drew in a breath, centering herself around the pain.
More blood, more misery. More of everything.
She hovered around all the memories of terrible things. None of them seemed right, not enough magic for what she needed. Selene swallowed, settling into the memories of her father’s voice echoing through the white marble halls of the palace. Good memories, sweet things. Worse, in a way, because she’d have to sacrifice the residual joy the memory gave her. The thought of losing her father’s voice was too much for her.
They’d play this game where he would sing a line of music and Selene would try to find him. There were so many places to hide in the vastness of the palace. She’d hear the echo of music and she’d chase it down, down, down the twisting halls. He’dwait awhile before he’d sing again. She’d chase the resonance until she found him, tucked behind a suit of armor or around a pillar, gleeful at his own game. Then it would be Selene’s turn.
She’d never get that back. Not the simplicity of childhood, not the sound of her father’s voice, not the possibility of finding him behind a corner or door. He was gone, and the ache of him was something she’d never lose. It was endless, ceaseless, careless. She was trapped in a world without the person she loved the most and that itself was a prison.
For a moment, she felt the upside-down of the mirror. Like she had slipped through the silver into shadow. And then the pain started to fade, the image of her father’s face going out like a candle flame and blurring with smoke.
What had she done?
Priya’s scream sliced through the air like an arrow and then died. Replaced by Priya’s sobs.
Madame’s cane struck the ground three times.
Selene turned around, startled. They had an audience. Madame and Gigi and Milton and the others. Victor stood there with wide, hungry eyes.
