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The sounds of the storm raging outside the walls of the tower are louder and the swaying is more pronounced.
“Right,” I say, shaking my head. “But the sword; Dugald, you know what the Queens said.”
“Aye, but this realm is not the place to figure it out,” Dugald says. “It’s time for us to leave.”
“Fine,” I sigh. “Any idea how to get out of here?”
All four of us look at each other and then Duncan grins broadly.
“Ach, magic is nae my skill,” he says.
I return his smile and brush my fingers along his arm. Duncan is so… Duncan. When I look at the others the look on my mom’s face is hard to read. She looks interested, concerned, and happy all at once. I blush under her gaze but I’m not sure why.
“The mirror,” Mom says, not saying what’s on her mind but deftly changing the subject.
“What about it?” I ask.
“Mirrors are a portal by nature,” she says. “Any reflection is, but a mirror can focus magic the best. You can open a portal back to the other realm.”
“Right,” I say, shaking my head. “And how do I do that?”
Anger flashes on her face and she looks at Dugald.
“Have you taught her nothing?” she snaps. “You fail to protect her, and you send her here without knowing the simplest of spells?”
Dugald shakes his head and raises his hands protectively.
“You do not understand,” he says.
“I was a bit hardheaded,” I admit. Dugald opens his mouth, but I hold up a finger before the words emerge. “You don’t have to agree.”
He snaps his mouth shut and Duncan snorts as he tries to hold back a laugh.
“And that matters why? She’s a child, Dugald. Can you not do the simplest of tasks?” Mom’s anger is rising like the storm outside.
“Amelia, I tried—”
“Trying is the excuse of fools who cannot do,” she snaps.
“Mom, that whole not having time thing?” I say, trying to slide in and stop the coming rage but also not wanting it focused on me.
The flush on her face and the purse of her lips makes it clear she has a lot more to say but she shakes her head.
“We’ll continue this conversation later, Dugald,” she says, then turns to me. “Come, child. Let me show you the simplest of spells that you should have been taught long before you’d set foot in Scotland.”
I bite my tongue as I move to her side. Dugald hangs his head and keeps himself distant from the group while Mom and I walk over to the mirror.
“Place your hand here and here,” she says, moving my hands to the mirror.
I can’t do it with the book in hand, so she takes it and places it back into her pouch. She stares at the pouch for a long moment, then looks at me. Conflict plays across her face but then she silently slips the strap over her head and places it over mine. I slip my arm through, so it rests at my side.
The weight of it is heavy but comforting. The magic in me feels as if it makes a new connection, joining with the book like a breaker switch opening and letting the current flow to a new area. A tingle races over my skin and I shiver.
Mom rests her hand on my shoulder, watching my face as this happens. When it’s over she nods but doesn’t say anything more. She squeezes my shoulder, then puts my hands on the mirror. As I press my hands to the frame my skin warms.
“Focus, Quinn,” she says. “Imagine the place you want to go. Picture it in your mind, then project that image onto the mirror.”
It’s not easy to focus my thoughts. The storm raging outside and the sounds of what must be debris hitting the tower distract me. As I push those worries away, I’m acutely aware of everyone’s breath. The sound of their inhales and exhales is oddly loud and distracting.
