Kingdom of Mirrors and Roses

by A. W. Cross

Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  1

  It was Beauty’s father who delivered her to the Beast.

  He wasn’t really her father—not by blood, anyway—but Raphael Quinn insisted that all the waifs under his protection call him so, and Beauty was more than happy to oblige. If it hadn’t been for him, she may have ended up with another master, or, worse, dead. The war still took many victims inside The Vault—you didn’t need to be staring the enemy in the eye for them to kill you.

  No, she had gotten lucky.

  At least he cares if we have enough to eat and an education. Otherwise, we’d be as ignorant as the Nightforge. She closed her book carefully, slipping a small silver chain between the pages to hold her place. And we wouldn’t have so many books.

  The other scavengers didn’t care about books, but Raphael valued them almost as much as he did the rare antiquities and oddities that were their bread and butter. “There’s nothing more valuable than knowledge,” he would often remind them.

  He ducked through the doorway now, a deceptive man, tall with an oddly youthful face and a slow, languid voice. His competitors often underestimated him, much to their detriment. He was like a golem, soft clay on the outside, but a killer underneath.

  “Would you two mind doing that somewhere else?” He frowned pointedly at two of Beauty’s “siblings.” Violet and Arjun had been making eyes at each other across the scarred wooden table all morning, Arjun’s foot repeatedly confusing Beauty’s legs with that of his “princess,” as he called Violet. “Preferably after your work is done for the day.”

  Chastened, the couple gathered their dirty dishes and scuttled off to the kitchen.

  In less than an hour, I’ll be stumbling over them in some dark alleyway as they paw at each other.

  Beauty didn’t get it. Arjun was good-looking enough, but their work was so important. And until recently, both he and Violet had been so zealously committed to the cause that Beauty had had to turn away from them often, her odd moments of doubt a disgrace. Now, their obligations seemed secondary, but how could anything be more important? If they didn’t do their duty, they would all die—overrun by the intruders that had already destroyed most of their world.

  Time had blurred the details of the invasion for Beauty. She was only a child when the war began, and her memories of her parents’ faces—her real mother and father—had eroded with time. They had died early on, ordinary civilians unprepared for the onslaught that would decimate the already sparsely populated region until, finally, Wakelight became The Vault, named for the domed force field that now covered the city. It had saved them, continued to protect them, and it was their responsibility to ensure it would do so until the war was over. Until then, it kept the nightmare at bay, the only clue the far-off sounds of gunfire and falling bombs, the scent of scorched earth.

  “What are you reading, Beauty?” Father took a seat across the table from her. “Anything interesting? It must be, for you to look so tired.”

  Beauty ducked her head as warmth crept into her cheeks. She normally wouldn’t have left her room with that particular book in her hand, but she’d been so caught up in it, so transported by the magic between its pages, that she’d been unable to put it down. Sitting at the tables, ignored by the others, she’d lost track of time. Again.

  “It’s nothing, just—” She rose hurriedly from the table. “Just something I picked up.” She backed away and was almost clear when Father seized her wrist. “Beauty?”

  She understood his concern. Some of the books they recovered held subjects considered inflammatory or forbidden—treatises against war, against violence. Tomes that encouraged the reader to lay down their arms and avoid conflict. The kind that would weaken patriotism and undermine the war effort. Those Father made sure to destroy right away. But this book wasn’t one of those—it was far, far worse.

  He stared at the cover, his eyebrows drawing together in disbelief. “A romance novel?” He glanced up at her, the beginning of a smile curling the corner of his mouth.

  The flush turned into a blazing inferno. What would he think of her now? It was the sort of frivolous thing he expected of Violet, not her. She was the serious one, the only one of his children who truly loved her job tracking down and recovering rarities. She’d spend hours digging in the corner of an abandoned building on nothing more than a hunch or a feeling, though her efforts were more often rewarded than not. It was her dedication that had made him so fond of her. Well, that would all change now, wouldn’t it? Now that he knew what a fool she really was.

  She didn’t understand it herself, her fascination with these books. On the surface, the subject matter seemed ridiculous and trivial—two people finding true love amidst adversary. Nothing in the world could’ve been less important right now. Love could wait until peace came. Everyone knew that. And yet…considering how many of the novels they’d retrieved over the years, there must’ve a been a time when matters of the heart were of the utmost importance, when there was nothing more people could’ve wanted from life than to find their soulmate. The books, their notions of one true love were nonsense—her mortification proved that—but she just couldn’t seem to stay away from them. Just like she couldn’t ignore Violet and Arjun when they touched or whispered intimately to each other. She was torn between contempt for their silliness and longing for someone to look at her the way they did each other.

  “I’m surprised.” Father considered her, his expression faintly bemused. “But you are eighteen now, so I guess I shouldn’t be.”

  It just kept getting worse. Beauty squirmed, desperate to snatch the book from his hands, dive back into her bed, pull the covers over her head, and wait for the world to disappear. Could someone die of embarrassment?

  “I…I just— I’m sorry.”

  His expression softened as he smiled at her. “Sorry? Why would you be sorry?”

  “I know it’s stupid. I know I should be reading something…”

  “More important?”

  “Yes.”

  “Beauty, nothing is more important than love.”

  “What?” It was the last thing she’d ever expected him to say. Laugh, yes. Be angry? Maybe. But the way he was looking at her now was kind, almost wistful. Maybe, even after all these years, she didn’t really know him at all.

  “It’s true. But it’s a luxury few remember now, and even fewer can afford.” He smiled, gazing past her into another time. “Once, love was responsible for the rise and fall of many a society. Wars were fought over it, music and art revolved around it…” He shook himself and returned to the present. He glanced at Beauty and his gaze hardened. “But those days have passed. Never forget that. People who do, like your brother and sister, can destroy themselves and those around them with it. Love is a poisoned chalice now, Beauty, so be aware of its taint.”

  Beauty hung her head. “I’ll put the book back now. I promise I won’t read them again.”

  Father pressed two fingers under her chin and raised her face to look at him. “That’s not what I’m saying, Beauty, not at all. I think you should keep reading these books.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. Find refuge in them, let them be the romance in your life. It’s the only way these days. Go out, do your work, then when you come home, they’ll be here waiting for you. No danger, no risk of betrayal, no obligation.” He tapped the cover of the book. “This love is the only safe kind of love. In fact,” he rose and handed her the book then rolled his shoulders, “when I get home, I know a few you might be interested in.”

  Beauty stared after him as he strode away. Who would’ve thought the old scrapper was so sentimental? Still, him knowing was one thing, but she’d die if any of the others found out about her guilty pleasure, even Red, and she was Beauty’s best friend. Across the room, Father opened the assignment book, the cord hanging from the old copper bell next to him brushing his arm.

  It would be only a few minutes before the bell pealed through the burrow, so
Beauty dashed back to her room at the far end of the warren. All the Guilds lived underground, seeking refuge in case The Vault was ever breached. The complex stone network had been built long before Wakelight, unused and ignored until nearly a decade ago, when the first rumbles of war began. The old maze under the city had been cleared as a precaution—one that paid off when the city was destroyed. Now they huddled underground like rodents, scrambling to the surface during the day to hunt. It had taken Beauty weeks to get used to living underground, but now she enjoyed the coziness of their close quarters.

  Red, who was also Beauty’s roommate, was turning the air blue as she searched under her bed. Beauty took advantage of her distraction and slipped the book under her pillow. Breathing a sigh of relief, she joined the other girl on the floor.

  “What are you looking for?” She stuck her own head under the cot, but all she could see was dust and shadows.

  Red flipped her auburn braid over her shoulder. “My stupid knife. I’ve lost it again.”

  Beauty pressed her lips together. Red’s carelessness was a bone of contention between her and Father. Unless she found it, it would be the third one she’d lost this month. And she couldn’t go out without it; it just wasn’t safe. Competition was fierce and being shanked for something as ordinary as scrap metal wasn’t unusual. With the higher-end goods the Hallow Hands were known for, a weapon—and the skill to use it—was a necessity. She raised her fingers to the just-healed ridge on her cheek—a gift from one of the Sightless Fall. “When did you see it last?”

  “Yesterday. It’s definitely here somewhere. I’m positive I put in in my box when I got home last night.” She held out the empty case to Beauty. “I’m not going crazy, right? It’s definitely not there.”

  Beauty shook her head. “Sorry, Red. It’s definitely gone.”

  Red threw herself back onto her bed, her groan drowned out by the bell. They had only a few more seconds to get down to the kitchen. “He’s going to kill me.”

  “Looking for this?” Leaning in the doorway was a tall, blond girl, a wicked blade dangling from her fingers.

  “Thief! That’s my knife.” Red squared her shoulders and glared up at the older girl.

  “Oh, quit your crying. I brought it back, didn’t I?” She curled her lip. “Here, catch.”

  The knife turned end over end as it tore through the air toward Red, who reflexively reached out to try to catch it. It sliced into her palm as she fumbled. “Damn it, Kaitlin!” But the other girl was gone, her laughter floating back down the hallway.

  “Are you okay?” Beauty grabbed her hand and turned it over. The cut was shallow, but infections were more likely than not. “We’ll have to put something on this before we go out.”

  “We’re going to be late, though.” Red glanced at the doorway and bounced on the balls of her feet.

  “Better late than have you die or lose your arm.”

  “Thanks, Beauty. That makes me feel so much better.”

  Beauty rifled through her own box, a small, burnished wooden thing that held all her meager possessions. After finding some bandages that looked clean, she poured homemade disinfectant over the wound, biting her lip as the other girl hissed in pain. When it was as clean as she could make it, she wrapped Red’s hand, pinching the edges of the cut together as tightly as she could.

  “I just don’t get what’s wrong with Kaitlin.” Red winced as Beauty tugged on the binding. “We’re supposed to be on the same team.”

  “I know. You’d think she’d have better things to worry about.” They all did. The Vault could only protect them from the horrors outside if they continued to fund it. “Like survival.” She checked the bandage one last time. “That should do it. Come on, let’s go before we get in trouble.”

  “Not that you’ll get in trouble,” the other girl grumbled as they sprinted down the hallway. “You’re his favorite.”

  The others often teased Beauty about this, their joking voices belying the animosity in their eyes. She tried to downplay it as much as possible lest she find something sharp-toothed and hungry under her pillow. Father forbade outright aggression between his wards, but he viewed some competition as healthy. Still, despite the risks, there were certain advantages to being the favorite—the best sites, for example—even if she couldn’t imagine why Father would prefer her. Beauty wasn’t as fast as Red or strong as Felix. She didn’t have Jere’s charm or Kaitlin’s ruthlessness. As part of a team she was awkward, unlike the well-oiled duo of Violet and Arjun. The only thing she actually had going for her was her true interest in the items they recovered. Perhaps that was enough.

  “Well, maybe if you kept a better eye on your things—”

  The tension in the room pulled Beauty up short. What was going on? Nothing looked different. Felix slouched against the wall like he always did, looking bored. Jere picked dirt from under his fingernails with the tip of his knife. Violet and Arjun stood close together, surreptitiously trying to hold hands without anyone noticing, and Kaitlin had her gaze locked on Father.

  Business as usual, then.

  But not for Father. Normally, when the Guild arrived to be handed their morning’s assignments, he was waiting for them, arms crossed over his chest. They would begin with their heads bowed, whispering the Hallow Hands motto over and over in a swelling crescendo: “Dedication, duty, defiance.”

  Today, however, he paced at the head of the room. His face was pale with gray shadows under his eyes. Had he looked like that earlier? Beauty had been so distracted by her own embarrassment that she hadn’t noticed. Whatever he had on his mind, it must be big. Father was unflappable—he’d had to be to rise to the position he was in now. One didn’t become the head of a Vault Guild unless they had nerves of steel.

  He raised an eyebrow as Beauty and Red skidded into the room but didn’t chastise them. Also unusual. Father ran a very tight ship, and sloppiness wasn’t often tolerated. Was his distraction to do with today’s assignments? If so, she’d find out soon enough.

  Father cleared his throat. “Right. Now that we’re all here—” He directed his gaze at Beauty and Red, and Beauty’s tension eased a bit. There he is. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, so let’s just get through this. Any questions, save for the end.”

  He flipped open his map book and gestured for the others to do the same. “Okay, Violet and Felix—”

  “Wait.” Violet held up a hand. “Why am I not with Arjun? We always work together.”

  Father narrowed his eyes. “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time a couple continued working together?”

  Rachel and Galan. Their loss still sat heavily in her chest. But Father was right. When you began putting someone else’s safety before your own, you made mistakes based on emotion. Fatal mistakes.

  Violet hung her head as Arjun swallowed hard. “Father, we won’t—” His mouth snapped shut as Father raised a hand.

  “You’re right. You won’t. What you will do is take your assignment and carry it out. Or you can stay away from each other.”

  Arjun’s eyes flashed. “You can’t—”

  “Or you can find yourself a new Guild.” Father didn’t blink, though the muscle in his jaw flexed.

  It was a serious threat. Trying to find a new Guild at Arjun’s age would be difficult. And to have to start at the bottom… Not all the Guild leaders were as honorable as Father. He might come off as a hardass to the rest of The Vault, but behind the closed door of the warren, his charges were safe. From him, and from each other.

  Arjun stared at Father a moment longer, his chin up. The rest of the Guild held their breaths as the seconds ticked by. Please, just look down.

  As though he’d heard her, Arjun dropped his gaze to the floor and stepped away from Violet. The pain in her eyes made Beauty’s stomach knot, but Father was right. Love was a risk they couldn’t afford. She ached to reach out and squeeze Violet’s hand, but the other girl would never forgive her. Weakness wasn’t something that should be publi
c, even here.

  “As I was saying, Violet and Felix, you’ll be heading to the southeast sector. I’ve had a tip-off about some old art there, although no details. Just bring back whatever you can get your hands on.”

  Felix shrugged in acknowledgment and pushed himself off the wall. Violet glared at him, her mouth a thin line.

  “Jere, you’ll be going with Arjun and Kaitlin to the southern sector. It’s a bit of a mess there right now, but some of the ruins shifted and opened up a cache yesterday. The other Guilds haven’t discovered it yet, so get in there and secure it.” He raised an eyebrow at them. “I don’t have to tell you to be careful—but keep an extra eye out. I’m sure I’m not the only one who knows about this.”

  Violet blanched. Fighting wasn’t Arjun’s strong suit, and Father knew it. Was he trying to teach her a lesson? Of all the items the Guilds scavenged for the war effort, the artifacts from the past were the most highly prized. The Vault was located deep in Heartcrown, one of the first regions of the Blackmoth Republic to have been settled, the old stone metropolis of Beauty’s beloved home built over even older settlements. No other part of the Republic had such rich history, and now it was being sold off or traded piece by piece to supply the energy shield of The Vault. Artifacts were worth a huge number of points to the Guilds, and not a few had been killed over the years in claiming it. Beauty only hoped that they could win the war before their history was lost for good.

  Before the war, before The Vault, the city had been run by an artificial intelligence. Named after the municipality it oversaw, the Wakelight AI had used a steady stream of information collected from sensors all over the city to manage its resources and assets. Every citizen also had a chip implanted in the back of their neck that gathered data and allowed the system to make their decisions for them.

  But a few years after the war began, Wakelight had fallen silent. The only sign it still existed was the shell of The Vault itself. Everything else had ceased to run—including communication with the outside world. Now days were spent doing two things—trying desperately to keep themselves alive and giving every single thing they could grow or scavenge or build to the war effort.