Page 36 of The Other Side of the Mirror

Rivan walked through the open door, an easy smile on his face until he took in the tension between the siblings. He rolled his eyes in a way that made me sure their dynamic was nothing new to him and snagged a fresh raspberry scone from the tray, dipping it into a bowl of clotted cream. When he turned to me, I recognized that training stance, though I knew that we wouldn’t be doing our regular sparring.

“We need to find a way to shield your mind,” he began without preamble.

Marin shook her head. “Breakfast first.”

The authority in her tone made me certain she had no trouble running the castle when Bash was away.

“Um, and maybe pants,” I muttered. Then blushed when they all glanced at my bare legs.

Bash’s eyes slid down to where the hem brushed my thighs, and then slowly up to my face—the weight of his gaze as heavy as a touch. Even across the room, every inch between us went taut as that stare stripped me bare.

He hastily looked away, cramming a scone into his mouth, his cheeks redder than before. I spun around, heading to the armoire. Removing my freshly laundered leggings and a soft white sweater from a drawer, I listened to their easy banter as I changed in the bathroom, twisting my hair into a quick, low bun.

When I found my spot on a settee, Rivan waited impatiently until I took two bites of my breakfast before starting again.

“The False King must have a way into your mind.”

My spoon clattered into my yogurt, and a glob splattered onto my thumb. When I licked it off, Marin chuckled under her breath. I noticed her watching Bash closely, who was staring intently down at his food. But I was too focused on what Rivan said to read into it further.

“How?” I demanded.

I reached out to grab the remaining scone just as Bash did too. As we touched, I tried my best to ignore the jolt of electricity that passed from the tips of his fingers to mine, but it was impossible to remain entirely unaffected. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and my hand froze in place.

Bash pulled his away with a muttered, “All yours.”

When I looked away from him, Rivan seemed strangely exasperated. “How long have you been having these dreams?”

“It hasn’t been too long…a couple years maybe?” I frowned, thinking back. “Maybe two years after the fire. At first it wasn’t clear though, and yesterday was the first time he was able to reach out and touch me. It started more like a glimpse from a distance, or a feeling like I was being watched.”

Bash finally looked at me, studying me thoughtfully. “So someone is helping him or he’s only recently grown strong enough to use whatever access he was able to gain before his imprisonment. He must’ve found a powerful magical link to you to dreamwalk like that. Either way, we need to find a way to protect you from him.”

“How exactly am I supposed to do that when I’m asleep?” I was already getting a headache as I anticipated the answer.

Rivan’s voice shifted into something razor-sharp. “Fight him like he’s corporeal.”

I must have looked as confused as I felt. Yael tilted her head consideringly, but Bash nodded, adding in a low, lethal voice, “The next time he tries, push him out.”

Yael shrugged. “It could work.”

“If he can touch you, you can touch him,” Rivan continued, his arm muscles flexing as if he were itching to try it himself. “It’s your mind. Your domain. You need to remember that you’re the one in control, no matter what tie he has to you.”

“And when he comes for you again…” Bash’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You’ll be ready to force him out.”

* * *

When Yael told me we would mirror to Morehaven that afternoon, I begged her to train with me one last time, needing an outlet for my building anxiety. She had frowned at my wording but hadn’t argued, leading me to what was obviously a private training area. Weapons lined the walls and targets were set up in the far corner. Thick sparring mats covered the stone floor.

I had barely stepped onto the mat when Yael tossed me a practice sword. She raised her own with a wide grin before lunging forward.

It hadn’t taken long to learn her fighting style with our daily trainings. Each of Yael’s movements felt like her feet barely touched the ground. And maybe they didn’t, at least, not entirely. Her magic whipped the air around us, adding extra force to each strike, blowing my hair back when we collided. We were soon breathless as our swords and our magics fought against each other to land the first blow.

Bash and Rivan soon walked into the room, as if drawn by the clang of swords. They began sparring with barely a hello, and, to my dismay, quickly lost their shirts yet again. Neither held back, their ruthless hits clanging through the air. Sweat dripped between the powerful muscles of their shoulders, the stark lines of their abdomens. I watched Bash more closely than I meant to, unable to help taking in the precise grace of the way he fought—somehow both elegant and brutal.

Both warriors now wore only the bottoms of their leather ensembles, the soft fabric showing off every muscle of their strong thighs as they moved together. Clenching my jaw, I watched the muscles of Bash’s back ripple as he twisted away from Rivan’s strike?—

Then froze at Yael’s sword at my throat.

“Notmyfault we don’t have the same disadvantages,” she chortled, having obviously noticed the source of my distraction.

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