Page 11 of The Mirror in the Mountain

Home.

Soleara.

A snow-topped mountain loomed up behind the castle, its two magnificent blue-gray peaks dark against the sunset sky. We were surrounded by dark green hills, snow dusting the tops of towering evergreens, the still flowering plains covered in burnt orange and lush violets. There was a great rushing river underneath the drawbridge, as if the land itself had decided to form a moat, though the castle had obviously been built around it. A swift, cold breeze whipped around me as if welcoming me home.

There was something like hope in my chest at the sight of it, but I forced myself to continue my feigned dazed state as we neared the castle entry. Let them underestimate me as I waited for the right moment to strike.

“Bring her here,” Aviel ordered from the doorway. “We need her blood to open it.”

One of the guards shoved me forward, extending my hand in offering. Another pulled out a dagger. I cried out as it sliced across the rose seared into my palm. Aviel grabbed my wrist, and I flinched at his touch, unable to stop it. He pressed my bloody hand onto gleaming writing I could’ve sworn hadn’t been on the enormous castle doors a moment ago. They immediately swung inward, though no one pushed against them, revealing an airy entryway.

A magnificent staircase crafted of polished bronze led down to the enormous greeting hall, where the agate flooring gleamed as though freshly mopped. The grand chandelier covered half the ceiling, adorned with hundreds of tiny bronze leaves that matched the aspen trees outside. Each leaf sparkled like gems in the light, as if an enchanted wind fluttered through its foliage.

I purposely staggered into the guard to my right just as he slid his dagger back into his belt, remembering all those times Tobias and I had practiced pickpocketing each other. As the guard lifted his hands to brace me, I fell against him, pretending to be too unsteady to stay upright. The other guards were distracted enough by our new surroundings to give me a split second to unfasten the short blade, sheath and all, from his belt. Before he had even pushed me away, his dagger was safely tucked into the back of my leather pants, hidden beneath my now untucked undershirt. I could only hope no one would look too closely at the slight bulge beneath the sodden fabric as the guards hauled me inside.

Suddenly I was five years old and sliding down the banister on the staircase. Tobias was at the bottom, his arms outstretched. But I was coming in too fast for it to end well, careening toward the edge?—

Then my dad was there, pulling my brother back with one arm and catching me with the other as he swung us around from the resulting momentum. We ended up in a giggling pile on the floor, my father’s booming laughter the loudest of all.

His laugh was still ringing in my ears as I was literally yanked back to reality. The tops of my boots skidded on the shining floor as I was unceremoniously dragged toward that very staircase before my feet bumped against each step. I let my head loll to the side to get a better look around while continuing my charade, holding back a gasp as I got a glimpse of the enormous mirror at the bottom of the stairs. It was a near replica of the one I hadgrown up with, bronze roses gleaming along its curved, filigree edges, though nearly twice as large. As we reached the top of the staircase, I was taken down an endless hallway and through the double doors of a large chamber.

The room was long and ornate with an enormous bed taking up the opposite wall. A colorful, forest-themed rug lay across the stone floor, somehow magically devoid of the muskiness of disuse. The mahogany armoire and matching bedside tables were bare except for a small bronze table mirror edged in gilded leaves. Pillars and portraits adorned the walls, and a bronze wax-dribbled chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its numerous candles flickering a hello. One wall was covered in arching windows, the vast mountains outside darkening into shades of blue in the waning light.

I might have thought the sight beautiful if my guards weren’t chaining my wrists and ankles, hindering any hope of an immediate escape.

“Clean her,” Silvius ordered from behind me to a pair of servants in matching silver shifts, both shivering in the cold of the room. He turned to me, the annoyance on his face plainly telling me he hadn’t bought my act. “If you make any trouble, I’m sure your guards would be happy to bathe you instead.”

I glowered at him. He held my stare for a second, sneering, before he turned on his heel, shutting the door behind him. I supposed I should be thankful he hadn’t drugged me again. The servants began running a bath and lighting a fire in the hearth. One stern-faced guard patted down the bed before moving around the room, carefully inspecting each nook and cranny, the other watching me from the doorway, a flicker of flame in his open hand. His mouth curled in cruel satisfaction as I backed against the bed, the fear only too easy to call upon. When his gaze darted away, I surreptitiously slid my pilfered blade frombehind my back—sticking it between the headboard and the mattress as quickly yet as silently as I could with my chains.

Once again, I was thankful for my less than normal childhood. My mom had turned pickpocketing into a game of dexterity and misdirection, where we would compete to see who could swipe the largest item from the other. Tobias always seemed to win, but I hadn’t been a fan of being in second place and worked all the harder for it. I remembered one school day when we had switched off who could hide our car key in harder and harder to reach places—including the principal’s back pocket, and the fake skull on the drama teacher’s desk—while challenging the other to retrieve it.

There was a prickle on my palm. Tears pricked my eyes when I glanced down and saw my brother’s scribble, recognizable even after all this time.

It’s me, sis. Eyes up.

Hope blossomed in my chest at our mother’s words written there—and that Tobias was safe, and with my friends. With Bash. I smiled despite everything at the mental picture of the two of them together, even with the reason behind my brother’s animosity.

I saved them. Now to figure out how to save myself.

Before I could attempt to write back with my location, a guard motioned for me to walk forward, leading me to the already full bath. The servants walked up to me, one wrinkling her nose as she cut my clothing away, before muttering to the other to throw my bloody, soiled leathers directly into the fire. The guard watched from the doorway, but she averted her gaze in a rare show of empathy, though I couldn’t be sure if it was at my nakedness or at the bruised skin it revealed. Proof of my torment at the hands of her master. I set my jaw as the servants’ hands clasped around the bruises on my arms and legs, clumsily lifting me into the copper bathtub.

The water burned against my freezing skin, but I sank into it, letting it cradle my battered body. I leaned my head back, so its surface covered my face, washing any remains of my tear tracks away. The cold, impartial hands scrubbing and tugging at me had me grasping for the unreachable pit of power inside me, wanting to throw everything I had at them. To scream at them before I tore them apart with sharp spears of darkness. Because there was no way they didn’t knowexactlywhat they were cleaning me up for…and for whom.

But I knew I had to pick my battles. Especially when I couldn’t afford to lose.

“Why are you helping him?” My first words in too long a while were strained, hoarse.

They ignored me, scrubbing and grooming me until my skin was bare and chaffed, and I had given up at not cursing at them.

I debated turning on them now, but I knew it would earn me a prick in the arm and me losing any chance of escape. So I waited, bristling with rage as they pulled me from the water. Even as they dressed me in a pale blue dressing gown, a painstaking process in which one guard unlocked, removed, and relocked my chains one by one while the other brandished his threatening ball of flame, all while leering at my half-naked body.

Refusing to shrink back from his gaze, I carefully noted that the female guard held the key to my chains, my eyes zeroing in on the small pocket of the waistbelt she returned it to after making sure each bond was secured. But I didn’t struggle yet, didn’t make a move to escape knowing I would only have one shot at this.

“Chain her to the bed,” the leering guard ordered. “I’ll let him know she’s ready.”

Right as he closed the door behind him, I lunged, shoving the hard shackles into the remaining guard’s face. Her kneesbuckled, her eyes rolling back in her head, and we fell to the floor. The servants cried out for help as I pretended to pummel her unconscious form while quickly palming the iron key to my locks, before carefully closing her pocket. The door flew open, but I was too busy shoving the key in between my cleavage as I turned away, the servants fleeing like I would attack them next. I was suddenly thankful they had dressed me in a ridiculously lacy bralette, as the key snagged in the fabric. I wrapped it around the lace, hopefully securing it.

I was already out of time. Rough hands grabbed my arms, yanking me back before smashing my face into the cold stone floor. Pain radiated down my side as I fought back, panic flaring through me as a knee rammed into my spine, holding me down.

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