Page 50 of Blood of the Fairest

It's old and so terribly broken that only one big, glistening shard hangs near the top, giving me a glimpse of half of my face and the spot above my lip. Where there is no mirror, there's nothing but blackness—almost like shadows themselves hang on the wall.

It sits in a simple, rustic wooden frame carved with more mysterious squiggles.

For some reason, I can't take my eyes off the one shard in the mirror.

Until Eris's voice pulls me out of it. "Fascinating. I can't go into that mirror. I don't see it at all in the mirror realm. Mind holding me up to better read the inscription?"

I do. Instead of reading aloud, my Adonis is silent for a long moment, absorbed.

"Ground Control to Major Eris. What does it say?" I ask, still not looking away from the single fragment of glass.

I can't put my finger on why it's pulling me in, but from the very slight tingle rinsing through my veins, I'm going to take a wild guess and say this mirror is magical.

"It's a rather long poem claiming that this is one of Eldrunia's mirrors," he murmurs. "In short, it says there are three, each formed from the Matron goddess's tears that fell to the earth as she bore each of the three triplet Crones. One mirror grants wishes, one shows memories, and one—this one—reveals the soul of whoever looks into it."

I raise my brows at the single shard remaining. "Damn. Rhinestone's soul was a hot mess."

Eris's voice is quiet, like he doesn't want to say this out loud, but it needs to be said. "She's not the soul looking into it. You are, Verena. And your soul appears…"

Shattered. Incomplete. Tarnished.

Apprehension settles inside me the longer I stare at it. Even though I want to deny that my soul could possibly be this broken, I can feel the magic compelling me to face the truth.

Does my soul look like this because of the hell I went through years ago? The slow-burn terror and cloying panic that made me fall apart at the seams, that awful moment when I realized I wasn't imagining anything—those nights praying for someone, anyone, to save me…

Did my soul shatter when I finally saved myself by killing that monster, or has it looked like this for a lot longer?

I don't realize moisture has started to drip off my cheeks until Eris whispers.

"Verena. Tell me what happened to you."

Sniffing quickly, I grab the velvet from the ground and throw it back over the broken mirror. Then I retrieve the candle from the shelf and practically flee the room.

Once I'm back in Rhinestone's lair, I set down the hand mirror and take a shuddering breath.

"It must look like that because I'm in the wrong world," I decide out loud. "I don't know how my soul got here, but it makes sense that winding up in the wrong dimension would fuck someone up."

Eris studies me, the linger of his prismatic gaze telling me he's not convinced.

"If that's the case, trying to return to your world might do more damage. Perhaps you should just stay here instead."

Remembering how the evil queen dies in Snow White's fairy tale makes me grimace.

"I'm pretty damn sure I'll stand a better chance of surviving if I go home. But since that might take a while and I need people in my corner ASAP…"

Ignoring the apprehension left behind from looking into that mirror, I smile at Eris and pick up the plain shoemaker vial again. The red liquid inside gleams in the pale light of the lair.

"I think I should go find Merrick right away. And with this, maybe I don't need to wait on Wulf's return to do it safely."

13

Verena

I can't stop staring at myself.

Well—not myself.

Not Queen Rhinestone, either.