Page 44 of The Mirror in the Mountain

It began with flowers. Not the stuffy, perfect blooms that gilded my room already, but a bouquet of my favorite wildflowers—a veritable rainbow of color and life adorned with desert roses I knew must’ve come from Adrian’s homeland. A quick trip through the mirror, and yet the thought behind it, the innate sense that he hadn’t asked anyone else to acquire these for him but picked them himself made me pause, breathing them in.

But it was the note that made my breath catch in my chest…the love letter.

Princess,

I woke up dreaming of the taste of your lips, those sweet little sounds you make echoing in my ears. While I’ve heard the tales of the dreamwalking this bond entails, I’m concerned I won’t be able to tell the difference as all my dreams now are of you.

You told me you don’t feel like you have a choice in this…and yet, I feel that I’m the one who never had a choice in falling for you when, from the moment I met you, I had already fallen. Though choice is little match for fate, especially not when thetwo are aligned (at least for me. But I’ve never been afraid of a challenge, especially with you as its reward).

Yours,

—A

P.S. When can I see you?

There was a tiny sketch of a rose next to the swirlingAof his signature, like Adrian had drawn it while staring at one of the partially unfurled buds now sitting on my bedside. I quickly found a piece of parchment, then sent my response in a flash of light before I lost my nerve.

Princeling,

You might have featured in my dreams too. Not in the night, but as a notion—a dream— that I might one day find someone to whom I might belong, and who would belong to me. Said person has always seemed fictious, nebulous, and entirely imaginary. An unattainable farce in a world not meant for happy endings.

But when I woke up today…for the first time, that figure had a face I recognized.

Cordially,

—E

P.S. I plan to spar after breakfast if you find yourself looking for another challenge.

I had barely gotten dressed when I jumped at a knock on my door. Before I even opened it, I knew who would be standing there.

Adrian leaned against the doorway in one long line. My letter was clutched in one hand, a steaming mug of what I could already smell was my favorite tea in the other. “Cordially?”

“Would you have preferred ‘amiably’?” I kept my tone cool even as my heartrate skittered. “Or perhaps, ‘best wishes’?”

He laughed and something inside my chest expanded almost unbearably at the sound. “I would’ve preferred ‘yours’, just as Iam to you. But I suppose this is one more thing for me to work towards.”

“You’re unnervingly blunt,” I said before I could stop myself, his earnestness once again knocking me a bit off-kilter.

“I don’t much care for the games and false pleasantries of politics, just ask my brother.” Adrian smirked unabashedly. “But there’s no reason to be anything but honest with you.”

I pursed my lips. “Then perhaps you’ll tell me why you’re here, Princeling.”

“You mentioned breakfast,” Adrian said, his eyes hopeful. “It occurred to me that you might need a companion for that too.”

I took the mug from him, breathing in its rich, earthy scent before taking a sip. “I suppose I do. Though I had a book I meant to finish.”

“Then I’ll read it to you,” he said, so sincerely I felt another piece of my resistance fall away. “I don’t want to miss another minute with you.”

As we left the room, Adrian wrapped his hand around mine the second he was close enough to do so. I found myself entirely unwilling to pull it away.

I promised Adrian I was wholly up to the task of changing for a ride in the woods by myself—an assertion I immediately wanted to take back as the heat in his gaze seared me to my core. His eyes had danced as though thatanimabond was already in place, and he could sense my growing need for him. But he had merely lifted my hand, pressing his full lips against my knuckles as he promised to wait for me.

A ride in the cool air would be good for me. I couldn’t get my mind off the way he had taken the book I had brought withme to breakfast—an autobiography I had found rather dry until his lilting accent made each syllable sound like an invitation. It was dangerous, the way he made me feel. Especially as I got to know him and couldn’t blame my burgeoning feelings on a mix of loneliness and lust.

As I opened the door to my room, any lingering heat from breakfast was immediately doused in a bath of ice water as I saw my father waiting for me.

Thank the gods I hadn’t brought Adrian with me.

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