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Who was this woman?
I knew she worked for the family. As a lawyer and part of the DUIO. She was a Legacy...
When I realized I was staring at her, I quickly looked away and continued walking through the apartment, letting my fingers brush along the petals of the plants while inhaling the far too subtle scent of the peonies.
Normally, everything smelled far too intense since I had become a Ruisangor, but here I couldn't get enough of the scents.
I stopped in front of a mirror and... froze.
“My reflection...” I whispered, reaching out to touch the mirror. “I don't understand...”
There should be a reflection of me. The entire room was reflected. My clothes were too. Only... I was missing...
I felt Camille appear behind me, but I didn't see her face in the mirror either.
What on earth?
“We don't reflect in silver, sweetheart.” I looked at her in confusion. She smiled and put a hand on my shoulder. “Fortunately, most mirrors today are no longer made of silver.”
“I see...” I replied slowly, looking at the mirror.
So, some of the myths were true after all...
Confused, I turned to Camille.
“Why do you have a mirror in which you can't see yourself?”
She laughed a monosyllabic sound.
“An old friend once told me that being able to evade the laws of nature would resemble fine art.”
She smiled and looked at the floor, and for the first time she didn't seem like the elegant woman who seemed destined to be the muse of all men, but like a dreamy girl.
She pointed to the corner of the room.
“But there's a modern mirror there if you want to see yourself.”
I walked across the room into her bedroom.
She followed me.
In front of the mirror, I stopped, relieved to be able to see myself.
My gaze met Camille's in the mirror. Her eyes matched the wallpaper perfectly.
“What is it?” I asked when she didn't take her eyes off me.
She shook her head and walked back into the other part of her apartment, so I followed her.
“Oh, it's just like seeing myself again.” She opened a closet full of dresses. “Except you're more mature than I was back then.”
Was she comparing herself to me? Her? To me? She was a goddess compared to the street girl who had strayed into this fairytale castle.
“When were you turned?” I asked with interest.
“In the 1920s,” came the quick reply.
“Which Legacy line do you come from? Miles said you weren't born a DeLoughrey.”
