Page 15 of The Other Side of the Mirror

We spent the better part of the morning testing each other. It hadn’t taken me long to realize they were all breathtakingly skilled warriors, not that it had been a surprise. Sparring with Yael was decidedly different from the strict rules of fencing I had grown accustomed to—where defense and technique were the goal, not survival. It took longer than I thought it would to adjust to the difference between a longsword and a saber as the afternoon wore on, and my arms ached from the heavier weapon. Yael hit me with the flat of her sword enough times to make me sure I would have lost a real match between us, but her steady grin as her calloused hand helped me up was enough to make me smile back when we were done.

It was only when I had gone to check my bag for my phone that I found it must have been left behind. I groaned when I realized I wouldn’t be getting a call back from Quinn, no matter the service availability here. But by now she would be worried about my vanishing act. There had to be a way to get her a message—to at least let her know I was safe.

When I said as much to Yael, she nodded. “Your phone wouldn’t have worked here anyway. But if you want me to get a message to her…”

She pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen from her pack.

“For some reason, I was expecting a quill and ink,” I muttered, frowning at the blue ballpoint pen.

Quickly, I jotted down a short note, telling Quinn I would be out of contact, but was safe. That I was trying to find answers about my parents. If she was indeed from here like I suspected, she would know where I had gone.

I didn’t bother telling her not to worry, not when I knew she would.

When I was finished, Yael picked it up. The paper floated above her hand for a second before disappearing into a tiny whirlwind. I gawked at her now empty palm.

“My magic’s fairly inconspicuous for sending messages to the mortal realm,” Yael said, unperturbed by my reaction. “Though perhaps I should’ve shown you how to do that yourself…”

I swallowed as Bash stepped toward me; his eyes expectant. As if he knew precisely what stirred beneath my skin.

“With magic?” I was breathing too fast, and not just because of the thorough workout.

“Magic,” Bash echoed, the right side of his mouth curving upwards like he could sense my nerves. I hated how easily he was able to read what I was feeling. “How long have you worn that necklace?”

I felt my brow furrow as I thought back to no avail.

“Forever?” I guessed weakly. “I’ve always worn it.”

Bash frowned. “Your parents must have put it on you when you went to the mortal realm, in case you had any breakout magic that could be tracked before your Seventeenth.”

“Normally, you would have some idea of what your magic pertained to before that though,” Yael chimed in. “An affinity for swimming, for example, or being drawn to a roaring fire?”

I shook my head slowly. The fingers of my left hand curled, sliding up the scar on my palm at the mere mention of fire. Bash’s eyes darted down to track the motion. Then he was walking toward me, rolling his shoulders. I stepped back reflexively, not liking where this was going.

Avoiding Bash’s probing gaze, I looked at Yael and Rivan. “What areyourmagics?”

My question came out a bit too high-pitched as I tried to put off what I knew would come next. Then a strong gust of wind whipped around me, lifting my feet from the ground. I stifled a scream.

“Air magic,” Yael said casually, as though she hadn’t just completely terrified me. Though I should have realized that from the paper’s disappearance. I clenched my jaw as she gently settled my feet back on the ground. My shirt fluttered in the remnants of that strange breeze. “It’s all gusts of wind until you tear the breath from an enemy’s throat.” The thought stopped me dead, but Yael just gave me a small smile. “It hasn’t hurt my archery prowess either.”

Rivan didn’t give me a chance to catch my breath. Tiny rocks skittered forward on the forest floor, forming a perfect circle around me in a radiating pattern.

He smirked as the smallest pebbles bounced off my shoes. “Earth magic.” I should have known from his grounding presence alone. “Though my proficiency’s more in stone and soil, rather than greenery. Healers tend to be of earth or water. My own healing abilities are useful enough, if not occasionally remedial.” That smirk widened into a cheeky grin. “Though I’m more suited to brute force.”

Bash took a step toward me, and I watched as his eyes turned the same color—a dark, churning gray. Abruptly, the shadows beneath the trees rushed forward, just as more exploded from his fingertips, surrounding the two of us in a thick mist of darkness.

“My magic is the Celestial kind, not tied to an element,” Bash explained. I closed my mouth when I realized how far my jaw had dropped. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Any Celestial power is…distinguished in our realm, the variations of light and darkness. Though by distinguished, I’m afraid I mean that it’s seen as a sign of divinity, granted only to those who would rule.”

He shrugged as though this didn’t matter to him. But I noted the frown lines deepen on his forehead, the way his mouth tightened.

“Those who would rule?”

“To be eligible for the Choosing, which grants the right to become High King or Queen,” Bash said matter-of-factly. “It’s more commonly found in the bloodlines of the royal houses, though it’s not exclusive to them.” One corner of his lips curved upwards, and Iknewthat he knew I was stalling when he added, “Now, hellion…it’s your turn.”

“To do what?”

The answer seemed both obvious and completely out of reach.

“Reach inward. Push it outward. See what happens.”

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