Page 89 of Sweet Nightmares
A glow from the wall sconce flickered in Darcy’s silver-ringed eyes. “But you do know where it is?”
Jane’s gaze jolted to his, and she said, “Shouldn’t you already know exactly where it is?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Darcy said, cocking his head. “Peri might be able to find it, but she’s more talented with knowledge than I am.”
“Then ask Periwinkle, not me.” Jane pointed to the space around her.She’s right there. Probably.
“This isn’t a game, Jane,” Emrys snarled. “I need to know where it is.”
“No one should ever know where it is,” Jane crossed her arms, “it’s too dangerous—and so are you.”
Just as Jane said it, a floorboard at the alcove’s entrance squeaked, and everyone’s gaze shifted in that direction.
Quinnevere.
The walls have ears. Periwinkle knew she was listening. God, the mirror was creepy.
Quinnevere stood at the entrance, all color leeching from her face. She shifted and slowly stepped deep into the shadows, but it was too late; the room had already seen the girl, and when she realized it, she let out numerous curses. “Fucking, filthy, nasty mirrors. Well, fuck.”
Jane chuckled to herself. Her sister was adorable when she cursed.
"Hello, Ginger." Emrys’s smile was wicked but not disturbed. He clearly didn't care that she was listening. Instead, he walked toward her as if she were prey.
Jane did not like the way he looked at her, like he wanted to devour her whole.
"I am sorry…" Quinnevere sputtered. "I didn't hear anything."
“You are a terrible liar." Emrys's eyes sparkled with amusement and mischief, and his mouth curved further with sinister delight. "It's okay. We weren't talking about much of interest. You should just forget about it.” His voice was laced with sugar.
Nope. It was too much. He would not compel Quinnevere. Not when Jane was around to see it. Or ever.
Jane rushed up, grabbed the prince, and harshly said, “No. Don’t you dare!”
The prince’s lips turned into a hard line. “As you wish.” He waved his hand, and the enchantment he was spinning unraveled.
She needed to get her sister as far away from these fucking vampires and Mirror Gods as possible. Jane glanced back at Darcy. “Remember, Darcy, hurt her, and I’ll hurt you.”
“You’re worse than my paramour, Harlowe.” Darcy rolled his eyes. “Besides, what’s done is done. It is her actions that will decide her fate.”
“And yours, it would seem.” Jane stepped forward, laced her arm through Quinnevere’s, and guided her away from the scene and back into the Viridian grand ballroom.
One crisis semi-averted.
At least it was until Quinnevere said. “Wait.” She pulled out of Jane’s grip. “You are going to tell me what that was about later, but first, I have the Mirror Rite to complete.” BeforeJane could stop her, Quinnevere turned and strode back to the alcoves.
Jane rubbed her face and let out a long-suffering sigh.
“That rough of a night, huh?” François strolled beside her and slid his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the wall.
Jane pinched her nose. “It’s been rather interesting.”
“I’ve found that most nights are, with this gang of misfits—especially the godly ones.”
Jane nodded, and the hairs at her nape stood up. A sickening and terrible feeling suddenly hit her. It was like when the mirrors called to her, but far more sinister. It was her intuition, a kind of magic, warning her of something, giving her foresight. And at that moment, she knew what she had to do. “François, will you do a favor for me?”
“I would say anything, but I have long since learned not to make that promise to anyone.” He slid his glasses up his nose with his middle finger.
“If I die, will you deliver these letters for me?” Jane pulled out four folded and sealed letters from the pocket behind the bustle of her dress.
