Unblemished

by Sara Ella

  He drops to his knees.

  Other guards begin to notice and pursue. I keep at it. Sing as loud as I can manage, my alto hitting its range limit. We walk backward up the ship’s ramp. I stop singing. Catch my breath.

  “Do you have any idea how to drive a ship like this?”

  “Drive? You don’t drive a ship.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He shakes his head. “We don’t have a crew. We’re better off taking one of the lifeboats. Climb in and keep singing. I’ll handle the rest.”

  One by one, Jasyn’s army ignores us, acts as if we aren’t here. I begin my song again. My throat begs for mercy, but I thrust the lyrics through. It seems like forever before the rowboat breaks water. Ky rows, and I sing until I can’t see the sand anymore. I feel like a siren, but instead of drawing sailors to their death, I’m saving us from ours.

  When I finally collapse onto a bench, I gaze at the stars overhead, brilliant in a new moon sky. How is it possible this Reflection holds the same constellations as my own? Yet another conundrum to add to the list.

  “I don’t believe it.” Ky slows his rowing, hunches forward.

  “Me either.” I laugh, giddiness competing with sanity. If I wasn’t afraid of capsizing, I would literally jump up and down.

  Splash, slosh, splash. Ky works the boat forward, staring at me. “I’ve heard the legends.” Ky ceases once more and raises the oars. Drip, drip, drip. Water trickles from wood to sea. “I always thought they were just stories. Fables my mother told to help me fall asleep.” He resembles a country kid visiting New York for the first time. Awestruck. Eyes as wide as cymbals. “How did you know?”

  I dig The Reflection Chronicles from my pack, flip to the last page, and raise it. “Because of this.” I tap my finger against the sketch on the back.

  Ky laughs. “I guess we need to change the name.” He resumes rowing, his biceps flexing with each stroke.

  “The name?” I pull my canteen from my pack and drink, the cool liquid coating my dry throat. I offer some to Ky.

  “Birthmark is the wrong term.” He raises the canteen into the air as if preparing to give a toast. “Mirrormark is more like it.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  When We Touched

  Mirror Theory. Seventh Day, First Month, Fifth Year of Aidan’s Reign . . .’ The fifth year of Aidan’s reign?” I flip open Mom’s sketchbook-slash-journal, scan the entries. Aha! There. She was thirteen in Aidan’s thirty-fifth year as king. She couldn’t have written this. It explains the torn page, the dissimilar texture of the paper. On first glance I assumed this had been written in haste, the handwriting simply not as tidy. But no. This cursive is different. The slant and formation. The loop on the capital O, the tail on the y. Even the t is crossed with a unique swish.

  “Em, don’t leave me hanging. Keep reading.” Ky nudges my shin with the toe of his boot. He’s stopped rowing, reclining on the boat’s opposite end, knees bent and elbows propped on the bench behind him.

  Licking my lips and taking a breath, I readjust my flashlight and continue to the poem.

  “ ‘Once upon a time is ne’er what it seems. And happily ever after oft a mere device of dreams. What wicked snares are vines, and thorns cause many throes. But peer beyond the surface; you may there find a rose. E. G. A.’ ”

  “E. G. A.? Who’s that? I thought the initials on your mom’s book were E. K. C.”

  “They are.” I pass him the paper, now slightly damp. The sea is serene, the shimmery surface lapping, flowing, swaying. Like a ballet, the water seems to have its own choreographed cadence. The waves glissade. The sea foam chassés.

  “ ‘Mirror [n. ‘mir r]: 1. One who possesses the seven Callings as previously defined in The Reflection Chronicles, Eighth Account, Dimitri Gérard.’ ” Ky’s voice is deep, his brows high. He reads with all the pomp and circumstance of Professor Henry Higgins from My Fair Lady.

  “Give me that.” I attempt to snatch it back.

  He plays keep-away, dangling the paper over the boat’s edge.

  “Don’t you dare.” I try to sound serious, but my warning releases through a grin.

  Straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat, Ky snaps the paper before his face and reads, “ ‘Origin: Unknown.’ ” He peers over the sheet at me. “Well, that’s helpful.”

  Eye roll. “Just keep reading.”

  “ ‘Hypothesis: When bestowed by the Verity’s vessel, a Kiss of Infinity imposes an unusual outcome upon the subject’s soul. As always, two souls are bound either wholly or in part, depending upon the mutuality of said kiss. However, an additional change occurs due to the unique pairing of the Verity and the Kiss of Infinity, producing an entirely new Calling.’ ”

  He lowers the paper again. “Whoa.”

  Whoa is right.

  “Sounds like your bond with the vessel did more than guard your life. I can’t believe you’re really a Mirror.”

  My shoulders scrunch. “Maybe.”

  “What, maybe? Did you see that display on the beach? Because I did, and let me tell you, it was awesome.”

  “I know, it’s just . . .”

  “Just what, Em?” His tone flips from jocular to serious.

  I rub my temples. “Why would Joshua keep this detail from me?”

  The boat rocks as Ky climbs over the benches separating us and sits on the one opposite mine. Our bent knees touch. Our eyes meet. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I tried to tell you, Crowe isn’t the only one with an agenda.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “But hey. Maybe David just didn’t know.”

  “He knew.” I bristle, clutch the board beneath me. “He’s the one who gave me this book.”

  “Doesn’t mean he read it.” Ky shrugs. Places the “Mirror Theory” in my lap.

  I smooth it flat and continue reading in silence, studying every word and syllable I missed on my quick perusal back at the Haven. Ky leans in, probably reading upside down. His hair tickles my forehead and our breaths mingle.

  One, two, three, breathe, two, three, focus, two three . . .

  Indications:

  Conveys traits relating to, but not necessarily identical to, the other seven Callings. Strengths may manifest all at once or over time. May seem coincidental in the early stages, i.e., ability to defend oneself with no previous training (Shield), ability to recall past events in great detail (Scrib), etc.

  This is the paragraph that first caught my attention. I recall kneeing Ky’s groin, how it happened so fast, as if I didn’t realize I was doing it. Then there are the memories of Mom’s sayings playing over and over in my mind.

  Quick-healing; medicinal remedies may wear off sooner than normal or be ineffective altogether.

  The Illusoden. Is that why it didn’t last very long?

  Additional qualities:

  Ability to employ any reflective surface as a Threshold, i.e., water, glass, etc.

  That’s cool. I file the tidbit away.

  Ability to perceive façades earlier than most with consistent practice.

  Also cool. I flip the page over. Here we go.

  Restrictions:

  Only one Mirror may exist at any given time.

  Mirrors can be affected by every other Calling, i.e., can be harmed by a Shield despite their own Shield ability.

  May only pass through a reflective surface to a location previously seen.

  May only transport one person at a time through reflective surface. Skin-to-skin contact required during transport.

  May retain Calling so long as the connected vessel remains in possession of the Verity. Should the Verity transfer to a new vessel, the current Mirror will be bereaved of all abilities as expounded upon above. Should the soul bond break, the Mirror will be bereaved of all abilities.

  Holy Verity, that’s a lot to swallow. Sounds like my newfound gift won’t last much longer. When my bond with the vessel breaks, I’ll be average. Normal. Nothing special.

  Seal:

 
; What is perhaps most fascinating about the Mirror Calling is the unique symbol in correlation with it. Unlike other Callings, this symbol is located on the face instead of the shoulder, relating directly to the force that drives a Mirror’s abilities—song. A Mirror’s song is by far her most powerful asset, not only igniting her strengths, but working as its own weapon. When honed properly, a Mirror’s song could bring an entire legion to its knees.

  An exact replica of my birthmark curves and winds at the entry’s end. This is what sold me before confronting the Soulless. Seeing it here, with its delicate lines and strokes, the image is clear. I always gazed upon the mirrored, backward version in my reflection. Now I see it for what it is—a song. Note after miniature note weaves in and out of vine-like staff, jumbled, disorganized. On the beach I did my best to “ahh” the few bars I could make sense of. How much more powerful will this melody be when I decipher the pattern, learn the entire piece by heart?

  I tuck my hair behind my ears. Stow the paper and Mom’s books in my pack.

  Ky returns to his side of the boat and my body relaxes. He grabs the oars. “What now?”

  Great question. Can I really use any reflective surface as a Threshold? If so, I have a door to anywhere. I could jump ship, enter the castle, rescue Mom. We could go straight home. Be done with this place forever.

  Except nowhere does E. G. A. give instructions on how exactly to do that. Do I simply start swimming, hoping I’ll end up in the castle the farther I dive? Does my touch alter the surface? My mind? My song? A combination of all three?

  Determination riding on my recent high, I ask, “How far to Lisel Island?”

  We’re going to see my grandfather. Nathaniel gave this book to Joshua. Perhaps he can elaborate on E. G. A.’s theory. He’s one of the oldest Physics alive according to Wade. If anyone can shed some light on this subject, Nathaniel’s the one to do it.

  I pass the time by perusing Mom’s journal again. The next entry is dated nearly two months after her last one.

  Twenty-second Day, First Month, Fourth Year of Jasyn’s Reign

  Tiernan has changed. He rarely comes around since Eliyana’s birth, but when he does he is distant. He refuses to hold his daughter, hardly glances in her direction. His behavior is unsettling. Tiernan talks of nothing but gaining a son—an heir. And when he does look at my sweet girl, there is a madness in his eyes. This is not the man I fell in love with . . .

  Ky still doesn’t know how Tiernan connects us. Is Nathaniel aware of my father’s adopted son? What will Ky’s reaction be if he finds out?

  . . . He is so easily angered now. Accuses me of giving all my attention to Eliyana instead of to him. He yells and screams. Sometimes he hits me, though, thank the Verity, he’s yet to lay a finger on Eliyana. He says if I won’t give him a son, he’ll find one on his own . . .

  Ky. I glance at him beneath my lashes as he rows. Mom’s journal only confirms what I feared. Tiernan’s anger began with my birth. Mom wrote he was sweet and kind to her up until the day I came into this Reflection. If I had been a boy, he wouldn’t have adopted Ky. If I had been a boy, Ky might’ve had a completely different childhood. A good and loving family. A life free of the pain he’s endured.

  What happens when Mom and I go home? Will I ever see Ky again? Is he just another character I’ll have to kill off? One more number to cut when my link to the king breaks?

  A new possibility forms, meek and fragile.

  What if we stayed?

  . . . We have to leave. I must get Eliyana as far from her father as possible before Tiernan hurts her too.

  Once the boat stabilizes, I snap the book shut. Ky arches his back, interlocks his fingers, and stretches his arms over his head, palms facing the sky and knuckles popping. He makes a noise like brakes squeaking and says, “All ashore who’s going ashore.”

  I scan the coast. Rocks jut at sharp angles like bayonets, ready to impale anyone who might be dumb enough to get too close. High above them, snowcapped trees similar to evergreens stand as soldiers at attention.

  Ky starts toward the rocky slope. “Any idea where your grandfather lives?”

  My knotted arms loosen, replaced by spiraling guilt. I omitted Nathaniel’s last name on purpose. All Ky knows is I believe my grandfather can help me use my newfound Calling to find the vessel.

  And save my mom.

  “We’re looking for a brownstone.” I remove Mom’s sketchbook-slash-journal from my pack. I flip to the page featuring Nathaniel, purposefully keeping my thumb over the caption bearing his last name.

  Ky’s brows scallop.

  “What is it?”

  He leans closer. “I think . . . I’ve seen this place before.”

  Oh, crud. He knows.

  He shakes his head. “Weird. It kind of looks like your house.”

  “Yeah.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “It does.”

  “Probably why it seems familiar, eh?” His tone is light, teasing. Like Mom when she’s keeping a secret. The way she sounded the night she gave me my eighteenth-birthday cupcake. She told me to make a wish.

  It did not come true.

  I stow the book and exit the boat. Amendment. I try to exit the boat. Clumsy as ever, I catch my ankle on the lip and soar toward mud and murk.

  Mr. Catlike Reflexes catches me by my hips, tows me into a hug. A briny aroma masks his natural scent. Water spots soak his shirt. It’s similar to when we touched after he saved me from Gage, but also different. Other.

  My vision clouds, my brain conjuring an alternate future. We stay. Make a home here in the Second. Mom and Makai can finally be together, unhindered by their need to protect the vessel. And me? I open up my heart to someone new.

  I shake away the premonition. Focus. My top rides up my middle an inch. Ky’s fingers graze the skin on my lower back, yanking me into the now. Heat floods my cheeks. Goose bumps freckle my arms. His breath grazes my forehead. His pulse thuds against my ear.

  Before I can dissect and analyze these foreign feelings, he pushes me away. Not in the way Joshua does, as if I might bite. Ky’s gesture is more . . . cautionary.

  I repress another blush. Tug my shirt down.

  “Let’s get moving.” He offers his hand, and I take it without hesitation.

  We begin climbing the jagged mountainside, our boots slipping on slick stone. Ky assists me at the difficult points, but the higher I climb, the less help I need. I’m stronger than ever since crossing the Threshold. The initial ache following my overdue workout has worn off. My body has adapted to a life where everything isn’t a short walk or subway ride away.

  A few summers ago, the Central Park Conservancy held a youth event at the North Meadow Rec Center. They had free food, relay races, and to top off the festivities, a climbing wall. Mom thought it might be fun to go, and after much protesting, I finally agreed. She was right for the most part. I mean, who says no to free funnel cakes? But my joy over fried batter crowned in a mountain of powdered sugar and whipped cream didn’t last when she insisted we scale the rock wall. It was awful. I kept losing my footing, and my hands developed blisters.

  What a spoiled, sheltered life I had. Mom gave me everything. Did I ever thank her? Will I get another chance?

  Ky reaches the summit first and lugs me up next to him.

  I lean over. Laugh through deep breaths. I did it.

  “Invigorating, isn’t it?” He holds his arms to his sides, closes his eyes, and inclines his head back. He’s more king of the world right now than Leo could ever be.

  I straighten, brush my sweaty bangs off my forehead despite the glacial temperature. “I can’t believe I’ve lived my whole life without experiencing that.”

  He lowers his arms and looks at me, laugh lines lifting his cheeks. “That’s nothing. One day I’ll take you to Pireem Mountain. Show you what a real climb feels like.” He points northeast, and I’m surprised I know the direction. Guess I’m more oriented with this new Reflection than I thought.

  Though it’s
dark, I can make out the faint outline of a distant summit. “I seem to recall you being afraid of heights.”

  “Nah.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Okay, flying maybe. A little. But a climb is different. You’ll see. It’ll take your breath away.”

  My smile fades. Ky’s does too. Unanswered questions fester. What if I leave? What if I stay? Does Ky feel the shift taking place between us? The prospect of something more? Then again, I was wrong about Joshua. Maybe Ky is just acting, doing whatever he has to in order to give me a sense of safety, protection, love.

  No. I refuse to let Joshua’s actions dictate my emotions. At some point I have to learn to trust again. “Where to?”

  He nods toward the forest. “Seems a good place to start.”

  Coniferous trees stack before us like fence planks. We weave through their labyrinth, scooting sideways between the slots separating the ebony trunks. Bark and needles grab my clothes, my hair. It’s almost as if these trees were planted close together on purpose—a natural obstacle course discouraging hikers from breeching its border.

  Sappy oxygen opens my airways. The forest isn’t deep, but it takes extra time to maneuver because of its thickness. When we emerge from the brief pine infestation, a lone three-story brick home rises amidst heaps of ash and rubble. I swallow air. Hiccups emerge. There it is. So similar to home, yet so very far away.

  Packed snow crunches beneath our steps as we creep forward. Our boots leave muddy grooves, marking where we’ve been. The brownstone looms over us. Dead ivy climbs the front and sides, coiling around the boarded windows like anacondas. The front door hangs off its hinges, a black abyss looming beyond.

  Does Nathaniel really live here?

  Ky takes the lead, withdraws his flashlight from his pack. I mirror the action, and we click our lights on at the same time. We mount the stairs, avoiding the wide cracks and debris, and step inside.