Page 63 of Where Shadows Bloom

“Long live the king,” I repeated.

His Majesty came in from the gardens, dressed in a deep purple suit embroidered with flowers and trees and peacocks.

“What a surprise to see so many members of my court gathered together like this,” said the king. “I know you all are so very eager to see the frights and fantasies that the hall has to offer. But I assure you, friends, when the hall is truly prepared and suitable for the eyes of the public, you will be able to explore it at once. Until then, fear not if you hear strange sounds from within. The wonders of the gods are great. But they are not yet ready to be seen. We shall celebrate magnificently when they are.”

The court kept their heads bowed, glancing among one another like naughty children caught misbehaving.

“In the meantime,” said the king, “if marvels are what you seek, the royal theater troupe will be performing in the gardens in an hour.”

The crowd around me moved like a current, nodding and bowing and murmuring thanks to the king. He strode up to me with a warm smile—but it faded when he caught sight of me. With a simple flick of his hand, he dismissed my ladies-in-waiting, who curtsied and fled the scene. How quickly he could make people disappear. “What troubles you, my darling?”

My heart was still quivering, as if Mother’s voice wereechoing within my body still. “Father, I—I know it sounds mad, but I swear on my life... I swear I heard Mother’s voice from within the Hall of Illusions.”

His expression remained unreadable. He delicately placed his hands against the bare flesh of my arms. “I will tell you the truth of that room,” he said. “It was a gift from the gods, but it is one that can bring heartache. In that room, you will see and hear things that seem utterly real. Depictions of what your heart is longing for the most. They’re like phantoms. Or dreams.”

Tears clung to my eyelashes. “Then I only heard her voice because... because I wished it so dearly?”

He nodded. “Perhaps your wish was so strong that you made the illusion appear for everyone to hear. But this is why I did not want to tell you about such a place,” he said. “I knew it would only upset you while your mother is away recovering.”

Only a door was between me and my mother. Even an image, even just the sound of her voice... I longed for it so deeply that my whole body ached. I wanted her to hold me again. I wanted to tell her all about Lope and my warring heart and all the confusing, twisting secrets of this palace. And I wanted her to smooth back my hair and whisper to me until I forgot everything sad.

“Please,” I said, “please let me see her.”

The king looked into my eyes, searching for something.His thumbs brushed against my shoulders. “Do you know that I love you, Ofelia?”

The king had barely known me a fortnight. Still, he was so kind to me, so generous. He always asked me if I was happy or what wish he could grant. Perhaps the love of a family transcended time altogether; perhaps you just knew, right after meeting someone, that you could love them. Even Lope had said it—love is immortal.

“I know you do,” I said.

He kissed my hand. “Then I will let you see this room. But you must remember—all that you see, all that you hear... it’s a fantasy. None of it’s real.”

I threw my arms around him. “Thank you, Father!”

His Majesty laughed. His voice rumbled in his chest as he told the guards, “Let us enter, but no one else.”

The two guards each pulled open a door.

My heart thrummed in my throat. The king offered me his arm, and I clung to it as tight as I could.

When we stepped through the doors, all the breath left my lungs.

The domed ceiling was made of black crystals, descending from above like jagged teeth. There were no beautiful paintings, no hanging chandeliers. The walls, too, were like the inside of a cave—dark stone swirled with gray. Lining the hall were silver candelabras with more crystals and lovely warm light. From the right side of the room, a dozenwindows let in a sliver of light that gleamed magnificently across the other wall.

The leftmost wall was covered entirely in mirrors, clear and smooth as water and more perfect than I’d ever seen. I could not tear my eyes away.

“It’s wonderful,” I said.

“It is, isn’t it? A shame I must keep it hidden.” He parted from me, inspecting the craggy ceiling with his hands behind his back. “Perhaps I will have another one built.” The king turned back toward me on his scarlet heels, gesturing to the mirror behind me. “Call for your mother.”

I frowned. I looked into the mirror, pure as silver, at my reflection and the king’s. It seemed mad. But I’d heard her. I knew I had.

I pressed my fingertips against the glass. “Mother?” I called. “Mother? It’s me, Ofelia.”

For a moment, I watched the mirror, watched as the king stepped closer to me.

Then slowly, another figure came into view.

My mother. Her image, standing behind my left shoulder. Her normally neatly coifed curls were in disarray, tumbling and loose. She was wearing her favorite dress, deep burgundy with accents in black. She’d wear it to any dinners she’d have with her painting clients.

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