I take a final sip of wine and set the crystal down as Marion leads me across the room to a painting that dominates the far wall.
I lean in, absorbed by the glittering golden tower stretching up into cotton candy clouds. It stands tall and mighty, crafted from thousands of intricate pieces of gold leaf that catch the light. It’s warm and inviting, glowing from within. My breath catches as the golden tower pulses, alive with a rippling beat that matches each surge of my heart.
“I’ve only seen the Tower from a distance. I didn’t realize it was so beautiful.” My words are muffled and faraway as the golden light from the Tower intensifies, pulling at the center of my chest to something deep within me. I step closer, my slippered feet sinking into the plush carpet blanketing the floor. The painting feels bigger than me, bigger than life, growing as I inch toward it, my senses honing, my skin tingling.
“It most definitely is not so glorious up close. However, according to the stories old attendants and governesses tell their young charges, this is exactly what it looked like decades upon decades ago.” Oblivious to the hold the painting has on me, Marion continues, her words a distant dull hum. “My governess used to saythat long ago, before the ways were lost and magick was banished, people traveled between the kingdoms and between realms using the Tower.”
My fingers tingle, and I lift my hand to touch the painting, feel the gold pulse against my fingertips.
“But that’s just a children’s fairy tale.” Marion sighs, gently tearing me away from the portrait of the Tower and from the edge of something that might swallow me whole. “As you well know, there’s no shortcut between kingdoms. And there most definitely aren’t other realms.”
“Yeah, of course,” I say, my gaze lingering on the Tower, my heart aching to get closer.
The Tower made a mistake sending the Empress card to bring me here, but I can’t ignore the way just seeing its gold stones pulls at something deep inside me.
It’s like it knows me, like it’s waiting for me.
But that’s not possible. I’m not a hero. There’s no way the Tower called me here to save the kingdom.
Fourteen
Stepping into the Hall of Mirrors is like walking into a living kaleidoscope. Light floods the room, refracted by hundreds of crystal-framed mirrors that throw clouds of rainbow-stained light like I’m in a Color Run. The mirrors are beautiful but unforgiving. Each of my multiple reflections practically shouts about the unwashed, un-makeuped, uncombed state of my disheveled appearance next to Marion’s stunning posture, shining curls, and the elegance and poise that practically beam from her pores.
We’re wearing similar dresses with high empire waists and flowing silk skirts. Marion’s delicate lavender enhances her silky brown skin, while mine casts a slight green glow against my pale white arms and looks like I was caught up in a turquoise wave that I haven’t quite been able to fight my way out of. I smooth down the square neckline that’s doing absolutely nothing for my barely there boobs and try to comb my fingers through my tousled hair.
I bite my lower lip and scan my reflection in the mirror, trying not to pick apart every inch of my appearance in the process. Surely I can give myself a break for looking like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed when I, in fact, woke up in someone else’s bed entirely.
This is what people mean when they sayrode hard and put away wet.
Catching my rueful look in one of my countless reflections, Marion offers a gentle smile. “I must say, you look much better than I would if Highgate and I had an encounter with dangerous highwaymen,” she says as we move through the bands of color that dapple the hall.
I meet her gaze in the mirror, her reflection somehow even more composed and graceful than she is in person.
“McDougall is not one to keep secrets,” she adds with a wry tilt of her lips. “But don’t worry, we’ll have you polished and perfect before the feast. After I’m done, Lord Ashwood won’t be able to keep his hands off you. Not that he seems to show much restraint on that front.”
“Ashwood and I are here for business, not pleasure.” I turn away from the image of my tomato-red cheeks and clasp my hands in front of me as we near the middle of the shimmering corridor. “I’ll have to make sure he gets the memo.”
“Hannah,” Marion continues, her tone shifting as she once again links her arm through mine and draws us to a stop in the center of the hall. “Now that we’re closer, I do have a question for you.” Her brow furrows slightly. “Your accent is…unusual. I assume both by that and your way with phrases that there are considerable differences between this kingdom and yours. But I would neverforgive myself if you were unwell, and I didn’t ask how you’re feeling after your encounter on the road.”
“Oh.” My mind scrambles for the right response, not at all wanting to admit that Kane may have had a point in schooling me about my speech. “Well, it has been achallengingday.” I swallow and let the understatement hang between us in hopes of not digging myself a hole too deep to get out of.
After all, no matter how much I want to hope my secrets will be safe with Marion, I can’t trust her. I can’t trust anyone.
“I know just the thing to restore your spirits,” she promises, squeezing my arm. “But first, we must finish our tour. We’ve almost made it to the Hall of Crystal Wings you’ve been so eager to see.”
And, hopefully, to correcting the mistake the Tower made and getting the Empress to take me back home. Maybe there’s even a chance that, before I leave, Kane will fill me in on the details and I’ll find out exactly what his plans are.
I’d really love it if he’d fill me in.
My eyes widen with the sudden flash of heat the double entendre sends through my limbs. I hide the desperate need pulsing beneath my skin behind a cough as I let Marion lead me away from the Hall of Mirrors and toward a set of tall glass doors.
She pushes them open, and a sweet, floral-scented breeze twirls through my hair.
The gardens spread out before us in a beautiful mesh of flower beds and manicured lawns. It’s alive with the vibrant green of new leaves, purple-tipped lavender bushes, cream-colored lilies, and deep-red tulips fringedin blazing orange that dance like flames in the gentle gusts. I lean down and glide my fingers along the bright yellow daffodil blooms that line the pathway with bursts of sunshine.
“This is my favorite place within the palace,” Marion says, her gaze sweeping over the clusters of pastel blue and purple hydrangea blooms, their pom-pom heads bobbing in the breeze. “Not even the rain can keep me away.”
“I would also stand out in the rain if it meant being surrounded by this.”
