“Scrying mirror,” the male interrupts. “Yes. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“A scrying mirror could show us exactly where the city is,” Solena says, her voice trembling with barely contained hope. “And Amara.”
I step closer to the male, my face set, my tone leaving no room for compromise. “Where is this mirror?”
“They host a masquerade ball once a month at midnight and show it off like a party favor. The next ball is in a couple of days. The location is secret until the night before. I will tell you as soon as I know. Please just… leave me in peace. I didn’t sever my ties with my house just to die in a brothel.”
I nod curtly. “Very well. Your life is spared… for now. But I’m not letting you out of my sight, and I swear, if what you’ve told us leads nowhere, there are far worse things in this world than death.”
He bows his head, clasping his hands as though in prayer. “You are a merciful prince.”
Such words offend me.
“Get dressed,” I order coldly. “We’re leaving.”
I nod to the others, and they slip past the curtain.
Reon leans close, his voice low. “So, we’re heading out straight away, then?”
I glare at him. “Move your fucking ass.”
He smirks faintly. “Got it.”
As I follow the others, I pause at the threshold, turning back to the male as he frantically searches for his pants beneath the mound of cushions.
“Tell me,” I say, and he freezes, looking up nervously. “Why did you break from House Ithranor?”
His shoulders sag, and he sweeps his long, golden hair out of his face. “They’re planning to return to Meranor,” he admits, his voice hollow. “But I’m quite content here. I like the humans… more than my own kind, if I’m being honest.”
“That’s impossible,” I mutter bitterly. “There’s no way back to Meranor.”
His silence speaks louder than words, and he avoids my gaze.
“Amara,” I mutter, realization striking like a blow.
He nods slowly. “Anethesis plans for her to open a portal.”
My jaw clenches, fury surging through me. “Hurry up.”
I storm out of the room, where the others are waiting.
“What is it?” Zyphoro asks, immediately noticing the tension radiating off me.
My heart pounds violently in my chest as I glance down at the scar on my palm. “We have less time than I thought.”
Chapter 7
Amara
Ifeel strange tonight. The moonlight spills through the balcony, draping my room in a somber blue hue that casts everything in an eerie, spectral glow. But it’s not just the melancholy light. Something is different. As though my eyes are open for the first time, and that I can see this pretty cage, this tortuous world, for what it truly is.
It’s not the shimmer I’ve learned to spot when the Fae weave their illusions. That I can see plainly now, their tricks laid bare. No, this is deeper. As if I’m seeing the very essence of everything around me. Not just the paint, the wood, or the stone, but the imprint they leave on the world, the threads that tie it all together.
I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, my hands raised above me. Slowly, I move them through the air, and as they drift, they leave behind a trail of silvery glitter, like faint stardust. If I look closer, closer still, I can see the blood coursing through my veins beneath the skin, beneath the muscle.
My hands drop to my sides, and a shiver crawls over me.
I see all this with my collar on, so it cannot be magic.
