Between the heady feeling her magic produced and the thrill of feelingfullyfree, it took Angelique a moment to realize what was happening. “No!” sheshouted.
The war mage flung himself through the portal with a grunt. The portal snapped shut behindhim.
He’d gotten away.Again.
“NO!” Everything in her control launched at the spot where he had stood, savagely stabbing the ground. She screamed—half-enraged, half-broken-hearted. “Not again!” She grabbed the sides of her head and howled in therain.
Charged by her rage, her magic built—and that was when she snapped out ofit.
Through the silvery sheen of her magic, she saw the lances and sabers shoved hilt-deep into the ground, the arrows that had been so ruthlessly shot into the ground they had snapped in half, and the ugly claw marks left by the glass Angelique had taken controlof.
She swallowed, almost choking herself, and finally realized dimly: the war mage hadn’t been afraid she was about to capture him…he thought her magic was going to eat himalive.
And in that moment, Angelique wasn’t certain shewasn’tcapable of such athing.
Her stomach rolled, and this time when she wretched, it had nothing to do with the price of her magic and more with self-loathing at the disgustingrealization.
The Council, her Instructors—everyone was right abouther.
She wasn’t just dangerous; she was amonster.
* * *
Pain had becomeEvariste’s world. Not red-hot stabs of a mortal wound, but rather a cold, endless pain that made every joint ache and wore away at hismind.
He was being drained every moment that passed. The mirror was pulling on his magic and using it to power itself. But instead of getting his magic yanked from him in the painful episodes Liliane had implemented, it was a slow, constant, and torturouspull.
It was a wound that wouldn’t heal, a constant bite that ate away until all he could do was breathe and stare into the dark void of themirror.
Everything was cold—not like frost and snow but rather the cold of a black cavern with no end insight.
Sometimes he could see glances out of the mirror into the bedroom it was positioned in. He tried to puzzle out what country he was in—mostly to serve as a distraction from the constant pain, but his only clues were the room, which wasn’t much to go by. The floor was tiled with a priceless pink rock, and the frame of the canopy bed was richly decorated with sparkling jewels and ornategoldwork.
However, Evariste was willing to bet it was a northern country based on the thick, crushed-velvet material that formed the bed’s canopy and the plush rugs laid on theground.
He tried to escape, tried to learn anything he could about his surroundings, but the mirror was an unforgivingprison.
Time had passed—he wasn’t sure how much due to being unable to see much more than haze—and as the pain wore away at him and the endlesswhisperingsnever ceased, hecollapsed.
He couldn’t sleep with the mirror whispering hateful words to him, and the few times he did, his dreams were inescapablenightmares.
I think…I’mdying.
It was a grim thought, but it was almost comforting. The pain was too much. He had no memories to fortify him. His escape attempts had already failed. There wasnothing.
The faint click of shoes on tile drew Evariste’s attention. Some of the haze covering the front of the mirror had decreased a little. He could make out the faint shapes of the bedroom furniture, but it was the form of a human that made him scramble to his feet despite thepain.
A young lady with silky black hair and lively blue eyes peered into the depths of the mirror. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she stared at the mirror, and she took a stepcloser.
Does sheseeme?
Evariste’s breath was ragged at the thought. “Hello?”
She tilted her head, then pulled the cuff of her long-sleeved dress up over her hand and scrubbed at the mirror, roughly where Evariste’s face was. Once finished, she squinted and didn’t look any lessperplexed.
“Can you hear me?” He ignored the putrid whispers of the mirror and tried to take a step closer, but found he couldn’t. “My name is Evariste—I’m a Lord Enchanter. Send word to Enchantress-in-TrainingAngelique—”
“Snow White?” a woman called out of Evariste’s vision. “Are you ready for the meeting with theCabinet?”
