Page 187 of Of Nine So Bold

Not letting down my guard, I trailed him, keeping my mate safely at my back. Candles burned in wax-covered holders in random spots around the room, casting wavering light. The windows were dusty and covered in dirt, obscuring the hints of sunrise outside. Along one wall, books were stacked in haphazard fashion, as if they’d been moved out of the way—but with more care than I would have shown.

I didn’t trust those things.

Ignatius strode past them though, heading for a tall wooden table on the opposite end of the room. Made of a warm, golden wood, it was carved as if from one massive log, no seams to be seen, and it stood tall enough that the princess would struggle to see over its top. Assorted pieces of metal gleamed on its surface, looking almost like components of a disassembled clock. In the center of the mess, a mirror reflected the room from within a brass frame that had more bits of metal sticking out from its sides, as if it was in the middle of being repaired.

Byron’s brow rose. “A magic mirror?”

Ignatius nodded. “I’ve almost got it working. With the help of the kings and you, scholar, I believe I should be able to get a message past the wall.”

Warily, Lars glanced between us and the older scholar. “Uh, who are you contacting?”

“The witches,” Gwyneira said before Ignatius could respond. “Right?”

The old man nodded. “If they are still alive out there, they need to know what’s coming.”

“Well, great.” Clay rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do it already.”

“As impatient as a tidal wave,” Ignatius said, not unkindly before turning back to the table.

Clay glanced at us with confusion like he couldn’t understand the comment.

In spite of myself, I buried a smirk.

A fizzling sound came from the mirror. The reflection of the room wavered like a pond would when a rock had been dropped through its surface. Invisibly, a wave of magic emanated out from it like a chilled breeze.

My beast’s hackles rose with distrust for the sensation.

The reflection stilled, but it showed only murky gray.

“It may take a few minutes,” Ignatius said. “Not only are we crossing the Erenlian wall, we also have the Wild Lands with which to contend. If we can bypass that magic, we should be able to?—”

“Hello?”

A garbled voice came from the mirror. It sounded like a man, but no image appeared to identify the speaker.

Ignatius turned back quickly. “Hello, yes.” He tapped on the mirror frame. “Can you hear me?”

“—said hello?”

A frustrated sound left the scholar. He fiddled with the bits of metal on the side of the mirror.

“—sure who this is—” The voice suddenly became less garbled and the murky fog cleared into the image of an elderly giant in a candlelit study with walls that looked like they belonged in a cave.

The elderly giant gaped with shock. “Ignatius? Is that… How is this possible? Where are you?”

Relief showed on Ignatius’s face. “I am in Erenelle, old friend. The temple of Syloria, to be specific. And—” He motioned to Byron, waiting until the younger man joined him. “I have your former mentee and his friends to thank for it.”

Dathan smiled. “Are you well, Byron? Did the glass box work to protect the princess?”

Oh… fuck.

My eyes darted to Ignatius. The elderly scholar frowned and then turned.

He looked straight at Gwyneira.

“It, um… yes.” Byron stammered. “Listen, we need your help with?—”

“Princess,” Ignatius said like he was filling in a blank. His brow rose, his eyes never leaving my mate. “There is a reasonyou thought the apples were a cruel joke, is there not? And why you know so much about Aneira.”

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