“What is wrong with you?” Imogen asked.
“I can’t see Evie’s dress before the wedding because it is bad luck. Put it away, put it away!”
Perplexed, we all exchanged a glance.
“People in the Mirror World are so weird.” Huffing, Willow enclosed my dress once more in the garment bag, then nudged the bed for Braxton to drop his hands.
Sighing in relief now that my gown was hidden, he stood to receive his gift.
Made from the same sacred skin as my dress, an elegant, wrapped tunic and pants was laid on the bed by Kingston. “It is the ancient ceremonial dress of the late Devenish kings,” he explained.
“It has been many, many years since anyone wore that…” Imogen admitted, a certain hope coloring her voice for what this meant. “Kings none of us got to meet.”
“There is a portrait in theHall of the Forgottenthat depicts it,” Kingston added by way of explanation. “I took the liberty of asking Willow if she could make it for you, Braxton.”
“It is far more than a king’s ceremonial dress,” I acknowledged, feeling the same hope they did. “It is the reminder of everything our world once stood for.”
“And now we finally have someone worthy of it,” my guardian agreed.
“It will be an honor to wear it for all of you. Thank you, Willow. Thank you, Chief.” Braxton hugged them both tightly, showing us how much their gesture truly meant to him.
At that moment, I realized that perhaps the Devenish name might hold a whole new meaning for him. Braxton was beginning to feel proud of his heritage, regardless of how much Raithian had stained the family name or tried to destroy it.
25
BRAXTON
“I’m sorry to interrupt this meaningful moment, darling,” my mentor began, calling our attention to her. “But you should get ready for your meeting with the Warlock King.”
“Meeting” was a mild way to put it, but yeah, she was right. Any moment now, Azazel would reach the Hollow and Raithian would unleash his wrath on him… because of me.
Returning my attention to the fancy suit set on the bed, my hand gently glided over it, allowing myself to fully appreciate it once more before I had to face Raithian. It was the rarest and most regal outfit I had ever owned, and I remembered a few of the statues erected in the March of Kings wearing it.
Feelings of honor and appreciation swept through me, and I looked forwards to the day I would be able to wear it. “Thank you again. This truly means a lot to me.”
Both Kingston and Willow smiled, reaching for each other’s hand in contentment.
I straightened, determination and purpose replacing everything else, and my gaze travelled to my father’s armor, which hung from a hook on the wall. With a shake of my head, I headed for the dresser instead. The last thing I needed right now was for Raithian to realize who I truly was, and wearing Dad’s armor would basically scream that to him.
Pulling my Elevated Warrior arm shield out, I began to secure it, feeling Evie’s hands instantly reach my own, taking over the straps that fastened along my torso while I secured the leather and iron gauntlet to my forearm. She enjoyed helping me put it on, and I loved her hands on me.
“Here.” Imogen offered me the Dragon ring, pulling it out of the drawer but I guided her hand back.
“It’s too dangerous for that ring to be anywhere near Raithian. He could accidentally connect to that piece of theAnima Crystallum,and who knows how much that might feed his power. Remember what my mother said.”
“The Warlock King cannot findanyof the pieces,” Evie recalled, her voice heavy with responsibility.
“Not even a single one.” With a nod, Imogen hid the ring again, putting away my sword too for good measure.
Strapping my boots on, I stood, but my Dragon Eye suddenly ignited, and I staggered towards the wall, feeling Azazel stumble.
Instantly connected to his vision, my surroundings changed, erasing Evanna and the others. The obsidian cave Azazel always returned to rippled before me, the sounds of chains rattling against stone reverberated in my ears while more than two dozen sentries shackled his wrists and ankles, securing him once again to the black walls.
He didn’t even fight them.
He was used to the abuse… resigned to his fate.
Broken.
