Page 121 of A Deal with the Shadow King

No one has set foot in this room in days, but the mirror has been shattered, about thirty pieces of glass scattered across the carpet. Cece closes the door behind us, and we drag the heaviest armchair we can manage to hold it shut.

We search my father’s writing desk and bedside tables, but find nothing aside from books, letters, papers and ink. Nothing under the pillows or mattress.

The mask isn’t here. I feel it in my bones. I’ll just have to do without. I grip an inked quill and draw the runes for “Fae” and “Faerie” over my lower arm before kneeling down to pick up a large piece of glass. “Here. Help me put it back together.”

I don’t know if it’ll work, but I have to try. The only other mirror that I know of is miles and miles away. I can’t wait that long.

Cece and I crawl on all fours across the thick carpet. We collect the broken pieces of glass and rotate them until we start to see a pattern.

In my haste, I cut myself on a sharp edge. “Ow. Be careful.”

She gives me a grave nod and doubles her efforts, but a rattle at the door distracts us from our goal. A loud shout echoes in from the hallway, and I know it won’t be long before the guards battle their way through.

The mirror is almost whole, and I flatten both of my palms to it. Desperate for it to work, I push every ounce of my magic forward, and the glass plies under my fingers. “Oh—thank the Mother,” I cry out.

A faint voice reaches my ears. “I think they’re in here!”

I turn to Cece, time ticking away too fast for a proper goodbye. “I need to go.”

“I’m coming with you.” She glares at me with her fists curled at her sides. She looks ten years older—and savage as a wounded hare. At that moment, I know no magic or monsters in all the worlds could keep her from me.

“We might get lost forever,” I admit. “But there’s no time to explain.”

She rolls her shoulders back. “Better that than staying here.”

“Close your eyes, and whatever you do, don’t open them in there. Hold on to my hand, okay?” I entwine our fingers.

The both of us inch closer to the edge of the broken mirror. Its surface ripples in invitation, and a warm, intoxicating thrill shivers up my spine.

I’m going home.

Cece nods, the bob of her throat visible. “Okay.”

I’m going home and I’m bringing Cece with me. Never mind the fact that we could be swallowed whole by nightmares and end up dead before midnight.

“On three.” A loud screech comes from behind us, the guards slowly but surely breaking down the door. “One.”

“Two.” Cece screws her eyes shut with a slight bend in her knees.

The door booms open, and I pull her forward. “Three.” Holding each other’s hand tightly, we jump feet-first inside the depths of the sceawere.

I scramble to keep my balance. The conflicting gravity of both realms pulls me forward instead of down for a moment before it stabilizes.

I squeeze Cece’s hand and check that her eyes are still closed. “I know it’s cold and weird in here, but you’re safe. I’ve got you, Cece.”

“I trust you.”

The sceawere is different without a mask. Blurry. I risk a glance behind us and see the priest kissing his goddess talisman, but I quickly turn my back on him—on my old life—forever.

I use my free hand to grab the pliable glass and move to touch the runes on my lower arm, but the various paths—the thousand glimpses of freedom—turn to black.

My stomach cramps.

Never remove the blindfold, or the nightmares that prowl the in-between will claim you, Damian said on our first meeting. I’m about to find out exactly what he meant.

A nightmare detaches from the mass and prowls forward. I put my body between it and Cece, ready to fight, but a shred of recognition tingles all over my body.

It’s the one I made when I escaped Isaac’s dream and lost my little bet with Two. The ragged runaway bride.

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