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“That is the answer they give publicly.” I turn to her. “Privately, there are whispers of strange happenings at Dark Spire.”
Understanding dawns. “You need someone who can search without triggering diplomatic incidents. Someone expendable if caught.”
I allow a fraction of my desperation to show. “Someone connected to Elionn who can track him through barriers designed to block fae magic.”
Her mouth twists. “At least you’re honest about using me.”
“Necessity breeds unusual alliances.” I nod to her. “Rest well, Amalia Wolf. The Dark Sithe offers little mercy to those who show weakness.”
She snorts. “Neither does yours.”
Without responding, I step through the mirror and pray that I did not read her wrong and she will still be here come morning.
5
BERRIES & MOONLIGHT
AMALIA
Ikeep the bat in my hand as I pace before the mirror Theron had left through, keeping my distance as I study the ornate silver frame for the hidden sigils. They were on the ones in the Hall of Mirrors, as well as the one we used last time I was here to leave the Silver Spire and reach the outer wall.
But no matter how much I search, I don’t see those identifying symbols here.
I hadn’t seen them on the weird chair Theron sat me in, either, then used as a trap.
Do the others have a stationary destination, but the Silver King can pass through any mirror? What about the princes? Is it a royal trait, a skill, a power level, or some combination of all three?
Stalking to the bed, I grab the blanket off the foot and stride back to cover the polished surface.
No more spyholes for the fae.
I turn to take in the guest suite. The polished white stone floors capture my reflection in scattered fragments. Pale blue tapestries hang from ceiling to floor without a wrinkle, tempering the harsh lines of the room. A canopied bed, writing desk, and two stiff-backed chairs sit arranged with perfect symmetry around a hearth where blue flames dance without wood.
A knock sounds from the door, three polite but firm taps.
My grip on the bat tightens, and I move away from the mirror to position myself with a clear line of sight to both the door and the window. My other hand moves to the knife at my belt.
“Enter.”
The heavy silver-wood door swings open without a creak, and Caelan steps in carrying a tray laden with food. Steam rises from several covered dishes, bringing scents of roasted meat and spices. My mouth waters despite my weariness.
My missing glove rests on the side of the tray.
“Nice of you to knock.” My hand drops from my knife, but I don’t relax my stance.
Caelan’s lips twitch. “I wasn’t certain you’d still be here.”
“Where else would I go?” I sweep my arm toward the room. “You’ve got me locked in your little fairy fortress.”
“The door isn’t locked.” He sets the tray on a small table near the hearth. “You can leave whenever you wish.”
I cock my head. “Back to the human plane?”
“You’d have to go through my brother’s bedchamber to reach it. But you’re welcome to try.” The light catches the purple bruise blossoming along his jawline, spreading up toward his temple. A fresh mark cuts across his cheekbone.
“Why didn’t you see the healer?” I demand.
“These kinds of wounds will heal just fine without magic.” He lifts the covers. “Now, come eat. When was the last time you had a proper meal?”
