by Jessa Lucas
The plead was easy, because the sacrifice was necessary. My watchmen had given everything for me.
Valtronya’s hand lifted, paralleling mine from the other side of the mirror. Chills wound around my arm, my palm cold against the glass. I steeled myself against the instinct to flee as her voice turned lethal.
“In the end, you will all beg for death and I will deny it.”
“To never truly be valued, be truly loved or fully known” —I stared at the place where our hands matched up, finger for finger— “you gave me your curse, Onya. But I’m not going to become you.”
“You speak valiantly of something you do not know,” her lips curled viciously over her bright teeth. “Look around you, Saylorabel. You are still bound by the walls of Abduult; you are unloved and unwanted. There are none left in our lands to desire you or to mourn you, and you will soon be forgotten in the eternity of your suffering.”
My hand tightened against the glass as if fusing into hers. There was a power trapped between our touches, welding us together with its frostbitten kiss. I caught my paled reflection hiding just on top of Valtronya’s, and I thought I looked brave.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said through gritted teeth, “but it was a mistake to curse me with something you’ll never understand. Love is the one power you’ll never know, Onya, because it’s the power that bows down and you will never be strong enough to find your knees.”
My heart lurched. I’d spoken into an experience incompatible with memory. As this strange realization clamored through me, something glinted against my mind— something intangible, something bold, like the lapse in consciousness when the faint inkling of a dream returns after waking:
My mouth and his, our limbs, my voice. And I love you, I was saying in return. It wasn’t the voracious, layered voice of the siren. It was mine. And then I began humming— my song, mine!— as I felt my fingers twine through hair, felt a jab in my waist, felt the laughter rock through me.
Ephemeral, familiar—
Lapsing sea, suspended twilight—
Real, real, real.
The feeling crested over me and fell away as quickly as it had come.
Returned to my stare down with the devil, it felt necessary to say the words out loud. “You are only a woman who gave me a bad dream,” I whispered. I tore my hand away from the magnetic pull of the mirror, severing the tension of magic. “And I can promise you this, Valtronya— the princess that woke up is not one you want to cross.”
With a surge of courage and snark, I curtsied as low as my sore thighs would allow. “Mirror, mirror, on the creepy goddamn wall,” I growled, peering up at the bitch through my lashes as provocatively as I could manage. “I’m not your passive fucking damsel, Onya. I’m your downfall.”
So, rhyming under pressure? Real fucking high.
The air tightened, staled. A hairsplitting cackle fell through Valtronya’s mouth, the sound in sharp contrast to the low rumble of thunder uncoiling outside. The hall of mirrors became the only thing that existed, as a suction magic sealed us off from the rest of Abduult. In the murmur of rain, I heard the latch of the door bolt shut on the far end of the chamber.
I was alone.
A savage hiss escaped Valtronya’s crimson lips as her head twitched and new cracks cascaded through the glass. She rushed at me, moving with inhuman speed to the surface of the mirror as if she intended to lunge at me. To my horror, her face contorted in a dense stretch of spiraling smoke, and her image became tensile, lengthening out of the mirror and gliding through the space between us, still tethered to the glass behind her.
I jerked my head out of the way just in time to avoid her elongating face colliding with mine. I suffocated the yelp that barked through my lungs as I watched black eddy through the whites of her eyes. A vaporous hand reached up to stroke my cheek, her touch like ice. Valtronya’s lips grazed my cheek as a seductive, leering whisper curled into my ear and a dark cloud of despair settled over me.
“Do you know what I woke in the abyss when I cried out for relief?” she breathed. Her voice trembled with something thick and unearthly— something a hell of a lot darker than any wayward siren. “Do you know what dwells in the nameless dark? It is a starless night, a leaden sea. It is a foil to the veil between worlds. It is terrible and great. Are we not most powerful in the dead of night when the ever vigilant eyes of men betray their watch to their needs, and their hearts are blinded in their dreams? Darkness obscures all pains, Saylora. It heals all grievances, binds all things. Darkness knits us together in the deep. Darkness,” she snarled, “demands exchange.”
“I stopped being afraid of the dark, Onya, when I decided to be stronger than the monsters in it.”
Sorrow permeated the air around Valtronya’s phantom, but there was an instinctual shield rising out of me to meet the threat. A growing current rushed behind me, sending my hair into a billowing fury around my face, and I swore to god if I’d never glowed before, I was glowing now.
Bright, silver, pale as moonlight in Valtronya’s starless fucking night.
“Ündane célé-van ashriv-ar, ni nominmar elemtani,” I murmured, unquantifiable strength igniting through me. I didn’t know why I said the words out loud, but with the soulless whisper of the dark in my ear, the sound of them made me feel unafraid.
Something ruptured in me, some breach in forgetfulness, a slender crack ripping through the wall which kept me from my former self. Up I seeped from the fissure, a feeling, a knowing, a second skin. I extended it like a new limb, finding it pliable to my instinct.
The coils of darkness around Valtronya’s face evaporated. Planting a hand on her forehead, I pushed her back, the strain eliciting a grunt that slid between my teeth. My hand finally slammed against the hard surface of the mirror, returning Valtronya to the reflection.
I kept my hand there, nose inches away from her ruthless face, letting the power ebbing through my fingertips bleed into the world beyond the mirror— whatever realm or window it opened out to— letting this strange, courageous power speak the words I hadn’t been able to.
Ündane célé-van ashriv-ar, ni nominmar elemtani.
A floodgate burst. Magic surged through me, scrounging the nooks of a former self, drudging up the power, the might, the gall of a woman who was braver than the one I was now. Words and realms, dreams and reality all passed over me where I hung in a world between lives, flickering between selves.
A calm settled on me. I took a breath. It felt like opening my eyes again.
The tendrils of Onya’s called-upon darkness seethed against the glass as if to taunt me, but I didn’t permit the cold despair of them to graze this world. My toes scraped against the stone as my feet tried to find traction.
Because I was floating. I was fucking floating, as if a swell of energy had scooped me up and was holding me half a foot above the ground.
I may not remember myself, Onya, but the things which give me strength are not subject to memory.
Valtronya’s lips didn’t move, but something ethereal and vague fell over me. A question: What are you?
I heard myself say, “Don’t you mean who, Onya?” For a fraction of a second, the queen’s sneer wavered. I smiled.
“I am Saylorabel Gathrul, daughter to the Iron-Fisted King, Sheildmaiden of the Veiled Seas, heir to the Five Realms. Make no mistake, all the powers under the sky and in the abyss of the darkest deep know my name, just as yours fades from their tongue. Curses will not destroy me. Walls will not hold me. Evil has no sway over me. Fate knows you have stolen my legacy, and such a rift in history will not stand.”
Real, real, real.
I ground my teeth against the expulsion of energy as it took its toll on my quivering body. Something slid over my lips, and I didn’t have to look down to know from the coppery taste that it was blood.
Onya raged on the other side of the mirror, swarms of smoke and fumes battling the barrier of the mirror. Everything around me shook. I swore I could hear the waters out
side lashing against the bedrock, waves breaking hungrily across the surface of the sea.
“I’m not afraid of you, Onya,” I hissed. “I’ve heard this story before, and you— don’t— win.” Every word was an effort, but god was her reaction worth it. “As far as I’m concerned, you can go to hell.”
She gathered herself, fixing her sparkling onyx eyes on me. “I’ll meet you there soon enough, Princess.”
“Spoiler alert— it’s not worth the hype.”
Valtronya’s mouth gaped open, jaw falling lower than was humanly possible, and I dropped to my feet intuitively. Her scream ricocheted through the hall, the pitch so high that I felt it shake my bones. The glass split, spindly lines driving through the glass with ferocious speed. All the mirrors burst in unison, shards flying over me as I shielded my head with my arms.
My eyes clenched shut as the silent sound waves rippled through me. I waited for glass to tear into my skin, waited for the clatter of a million little pieces of it breaking against the floor.
There was nothing.
I slowly peeled my arms away from my head and looked around.
The hall was just as it’d been when I walked in. Sapphire light fell against grey stone, the harp glinting to my left. The mirrors were all in tact, reflecting only an empty room.
I stared at my reflection and hastily wiped the blood from underneath my nose.
As the silent ring of Valtronya’s harrowing scream paled in my eardrums, I heard beating against the door and the muffled sound of my name.
“Saylora! Saylora!”
I looked up at the door and it fell open, the suction of magic released. All five of my watchmen tumbled in, faces aghast.
I tried to stand, but my thighs gave out. I collapsed to the ground, the last of my power fleeing me like a cloak falling from my shoulders. The air couldn’t fill my lungs fast enough. I was shaking— but it was good. Like a child discovering how to walk, this was the tremble of muscles that were learning to be strong.
“What happened?”
“Are you alright?”
“Saylora—”
I ignored them as they crouched by me on the floor, too busy staring at the stones and trying to catch my breath. If the door had busted open seconds earlier, they would’ve caught the end of Valtronya’s meltdown. Seen proof of what was only adding up to be some late night liaisons for Gilles. As it was, not a hint seemed left of her— only me on the floor, drained of all energy, body curled over itself.
“Saylor.”
I turned my head lethargically to Sy, whose hand was reaching to my face. I instinctively knew he was on the verge of asking about the blood under my nose. I could feel it crusting over my lip and I wiped it again with the back of my hand. “Did any of you hear what happened?” I asked. “Any of it?”
Sy shook his head. “What—”
“The door was supposed to be locked! Who let her in?”
Gilles.
I wobbled to a stand, reaching for the arm Jabari extended as my legs shook. I could feel my normal levels of energy returning, but it all felt so faint and boringly human after knowing my feet could leave the ground.
“Excuse me? Let?” I glared at Gilles. “I’ve got the same rights as you and that’s without even pulling the princess card. I think I’ll be doing whatever I damn well please.” I looked around, wondering if anyone else dared ask another dumb question.
Nope, that shut them up.
Jabari gripped my arm, but I peeled his fingers off me and pushed past the others, marching determinedly up to Gilles.
“Do you want to explain what the hell that was?” I hissed.
His mouth pressed into a hard line, eyes darting hesitantly to the others. When he refused to answer, I shoved past him. He caught my wrist. I flipped to him, ripping my hand out of his grasp.
“Don’t worry, Gilles,” I said. “I passed the test. I’m her worst nightmare, which only seems appropriate.”
I met his eyes with such conviction that I was sure he could read my mind as it roared, Let the games begin, motherfucker.
I wanted to out him then and there, but having just dealt with the psycho bitch herself, I didn’t have it in me to go up against her minion without a shred of viable evidence.
“Saylora,” one of them started, “what—”
I held up a hand, eyes fastened on Gilles and the regret which seemed to be forming on his face. “Not now, thank you.”
Before I could be bombarded with questions like are you okay/what happened down here/blah blah blah, I ambled out.
I’d just made it up the stairs and to the end of the corridor when I heard him call out. “Princess.”
I didn’t turn. I just kept walking.
My mind was spinning, unable to keep up with what had just happened. Who I’d just been. I was a puzzle fashioned from too many pictures. Erin and Aryina, Saylor and Saylorabel, Greyson and Gathrul. I was the pauper and the princess, a plain Jane and an alleged sea demon. But I’d tasted her back there— the rich, explosive force I must’ve been before I’d fallen prey to a fairytale cliché. I’d felt her consume me, taking new shape within me...
And just like that, I’d lost her all over again. For one shining moment, I’d no longer been the girl who ran. I’d been me.
Now I just had to figure out how to get her back.
Chapter 20
The Cruel Princess
I blew out a steamy breath as I launched into the Great Hall.
I shook my head, wishing my thoughts would fly away with the movement, and grabbed the bow as a mantle of shadows and starlight cloaked the room. I propped up the bow, squinting as I aimed. My muscles screamed. I didn’t give a damn.
I released an arrow and it sung through the air with a quick whistle, flying determinedly towards a mark outside the target.
And I love you.
I glared at it, and to my astonishment the arrow twitched back to precision. I nocked another and took a second shot. My mind narrowed in on the target, the brief flash of that mystery kiss a remedy for my lack of skill, the only part of me I could cling to.
Bullseye. Nailed it.
No more indecision. No more distractions. I was here to break a curse, and that would be a hell of a lot harder with a traitor watching my every move. I didn't get to be afraid of what I was capable of anymore— and I didn’t particularly want to be when an excess of feelings had the ability to make me levitate. That could come in handy.
I grabbed the third arrow, fuming, and loaded it with unnecessary intensity. I aimed again, fired. The remnants of my magic steered the arrow perfectly, and it landed right on the mark. I flinched when I heard the movement behind me, even though I’d been waiting for it.
I whirled around, weapon aimed at my new target. Gilles raised his hands in surrender, a small smile growing on his lips. "What'd I tell you, Princess? You've got to stop jumping."
"And what did I tell you?" I returned his smile, resolve solidifying. "You shouldn't trust me."
Perfect timing, asshole.
Gilles approached slowly, brows raised as he eyed my handiwork.
“Don’t ask me to do that again,” I said, threat lingering in my voice. Cause I probably couldn’t anyway.
“Your body is remembering the skill.”
“No. As it turns out, you were right about the anger thing, and I happen to be ultra pissed off at the moment.”
“I shouldn’t have taught you that anger is an ideal motivation. It was self-serving.”
“I see. And how is that?” I eyed him, taking a step closer. I had him cornered. Now the question was whether or not I could keep him this way long enough to get what I needed out of him.
“I’m sorry, Saylora.”
I snorted. “Really? You’re telling me you came here to apologize?”
“No,” Gilles released a subtle sigh, a flicker passing across his brow. “I came because I know what you think of me, and the truth is you have always had my allegiance.”
I closed the space between us, poising the tip of the arrow against the corner of his mouth. Gilles raised his eyebrows slowly. “Careful, Princess,” he said softly, almost as though he were daring me. There was a glint of moonlight in his eye that looked suspiciously like a sparkle.
“Why are you grinning, Gilles?”
The smirk which so often mocked me widened into a broad smile. “Because you’re a badass.”
“Ah. Resorting to flattery now, are we? I should’ve told them while we all stood there at the scene of the crime.” I shrugged. “There’s always tomorrow.”
“I’m not the traitor, Saylora.”
“You had a direct line to the Queen and you think I—”
“You don’t know anything about what’s down—”
“Shut up,” I growled, “and grab that chair. I’m glad you followed me, Gilles. I was needing a little siren recharge anyway.”
His eyes were glued on me with an irritating amusement as the legs of the chair scraped across the floor. I was still aiming at Gilles’ head and, to be honest, I was a little high on the control. Nailing those targets and being made of raging hormonal siren had done the trick, frankly.
“Pull it up here, and sit,” I commanded, tapping my toe just in front of me. He followed instructions. “You seem a little too chill for someone with a weapon pointed at your brains, Gilles.”
“Does that bother you, Princess?”
I glared at him as he dropped into the chair, legs falling wide in a posture of relaxation. “What bothers me is that you’ve teamed up with my mortal enemy.”
“I’m here, letting you point a weapon at my brains. Do you want to know why, Saylora?”
“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“I left my home to protect you, I have endured Abduult to serve you. This moment, right now, is an act of obedience. I’m proving my loyalty by letting you do what you need to, even if that means killing me.”
God, he didn’t even know how close I just might come.
