You know those moments in life that are pivotal and concrete, while at the same time surreal? Like, I’m here, this is happening, but I also question it.
Is this happening?
Is this real?
“My sincerest apologies, Your Highness.” Countess Ambrose furnishes a slight bow of her head as she reaches to help me to my feet. She looks out of place among the settling dust and debris. An angel among wreckage. “You must understand my first priority is my people. I couldn’t have them threatened by anyone or anything.”
I furrow my brows and nod but don’t speak. I’m unsure what to believe at this point. Is this woman to be trusted or another Mom would warn to be chary of?
“Zane,” the countess says. “Please assist the other members of the crew.”
The Guardian with kindness hidden behind his eyes scoots past us, picking through chunks of ceiling and cage. The task is nothing to his broad arms and legs.
Ky rises beside me. Dusts himself off. His fingers twine easily with mine, as if this is the most natural thing in the Reflections.
I squeeze his hand. Hi, I think toward him.
“Hi,” he thinks back, squeezing my hand in return.
“If you will follow me.” The countess turns, her toga swishing. “I believe we have much to discuss.”
We follow her out of the dungeons, the remainder of our crew falling into line behind us.
Ky puts an arm around my shoulder, leans in to kiss my temple.
Guess everything is out in the open now. No reason to hide anything anymore.
I peek backward, release a sneeze I can’t continue to hold in. Then I breathe a sigh of relief when I see each one of us is accounted for.
Gunner and Flint are a little worse for the wear, their faces and arms matted with blood. Clothing disheveled and dirtied. They actually look more like pirates now. The kind that never bathe.
“You think you look much better?” Ky thinks.
Oh, shut up.
He gives an audible laugh.
Cheeks lifted, I shake my head before looking over my shoulder once more.
Charley walks alone, then behind her my sisters walk hand in hand, Ebony leading our youngest sibling like one might lead a lost child. Both have enough dust in their hair and on their faces, they could be ghosts. I reach up and wipe at my cheeks with my sweatshirt sleeve. When I pull it away, a layer of grime cakes the fabric. Please let the Fourth Reflection have decent hygiene facilities.
Up and out of the Thatsou Catacombs we venture, but rather than returning us to the surface, the countess leads us through a door that opens to a long—and when I say long, I mean loooonnnngggg—set of stairs. They’re wide and deep, ornamented with the same green and gold stones on the steps curving through the Threshold. Natural light filters between cracks in the underground ceiling, causing the stones to wink and glisten. Sand coats the steps and the air is misted with salt. This entire Reflection smells like a day at the beach. The stairwell seems miles long, climbing up, up, up, plateauing, and then diving down, down, down. Down? How much deeper can we go?
“Right?” Ky says in my head. “You’d think we’d be in the heart of the ocean by now.”
I roll my eyes. Wow. Titanic reference. Is that really the best you can do?
“Aww, c’mon. That was pretty good.” He puffs out his chest.
Oh brother.
Winking, he lifts our joined hands to his lips and kisses my fingers.
You win, I think.
Ky’s crooked grin goes into full-throttle mode, dimples blazing.
When at last—at last—we reach a circular door that could have totally been stolen from the Shire, Countess Ambrose gives three long knocks followed by two short ones.
I half expect a munchkin to pop through a hole in the door and demand we state our business.
But of course one doesn’t. After a few beats the door swings inward, opened by a pudgy little man even shorter than I am. The countess lists her head toward him, then enters a chamber as round as the door. Its walls are made of glass, an entrance identical to the one we arrived through straight across from us. We are indeed beneath the city. If we’re not in the heart of the ocean, we’re somewhere near it. Sea surrounds us on all sides, the water murky for lack of sunlight. A round table fit for Camelot adorns the chamber’s heart. Whoa. Cool.
With a sweeping arm the countess says, “Won’t you all please take a seat?”
Ky pulls out a chair for me and I sit. Then Zane catches him by the shoulder. “This is yours.” He presses the mirrorblade, hilt first, into Ky’s hand.
“Thank you.” Ky sheathes his most prized possession and takes the seat beside mine. Our hands find the other beneath the table.
Zane stands at attention off to one side, the pudgy man who let us in flanking his left.
The countess takes her place behind one of the chairs.
I watch her. Something’s different. But what?
“She’s in her natural human form,” Ky thinks. “See how her height has changed? And her eyes?”
My own regard narrows as I consider the woman before us. Ky’s right. She’s a shorter, less glamorous version of her Siren self. Much more approachable, almost motherly. Her nails tap on the chair’s wood. When our gazes lock she gives me a smile far different from the one she offered on the shore.
Three knocks, then two short ones on the opposite door. The doorkeeper shuffles over, the short distance apparently winding him as he huffs and puffs around the table. When he opens the door, several people file in.
A burly man with a beard to his naval and a kilt hanging low under his protruding gut.
A dwarf-sized woman with a squarish head and thick glasses.
A couple in their late fifties, the man thin and balding and the woman exhibiting the rosiest cheeks I’ve ever seen.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” Spreading her arms like wings, the countess says, “Welcome to the Council of Reflections.”
Something is wrong with Joshua.
The consensus is unanimous.
“He’s clearly out of control.” The countess’s voice carries throughout the chamber. “I recognized it the moment he entered my court. There’s a madness in his eyes. A determination I’ve seen before.”
I wrinkle my brow. Raise my hand.
The countess offers a genuine smile. “You need not raise your hand here, Queen Eliyana.”
My leg shakes beneath the table and Ky steadies it.
I’m pretty sure this is the first time anyone has called me Queen. Highness and Majesty, yes, but Queen? With my name attached? Never.
“As ruler of the Second you are an equal member of this council. Not only that, but you are the Verity’s vessel. A woman has not held that role in a great many years. My grandmother two generations previous was the last female vessel.”
I tug my right sleeve down past my hand. I feel the Void pulsing where it does not belong. The countess knows Ky holds the Void, too, but she no longer seems concerned about him. Just Joshua. Why? My nerves manifest in fidgets and stomach cramps.
“Also,” the countess adds, “may I say I was quite impressed with your candor upon the shore earlier? Standing up for what is right and true is very rarely easy. You are indeed worthy of the title you bear.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears. Both legs jiggle now, and I smooth my sweaty palms over my thighs. “Um . . .” I glance at Ky, who nods his support. “Where have you seen it?” I’m afraid of her answer. “The madness, I mean.”
“In Jasyn Crowe, of course.”
The notion sends a shudder through me. Joshua? Like my grandfather? Impossible.
“Is it?” Ky counters in my head. “David suffers half the Void. It may have become too much for him.”
You suffer half and you’re fine.
“I’ve been cautious not to feed it. I practiced controlling my evil urges for years after Tiernan forced me to drink dark Threshold water.” He knocks my knee with his. “Besides, I had the Verity then, just as I have it now. In you.”
Joshua has me.
“Does he?”
His question stops me. I stare at my ringless left hand. The Verity keeps the Void at bay. Counterbalances it. Did I cause Joshua to go dark? Did my actions send him over the edge?
Some vessel of the Verity I’ve turned out to be.
“David has made his own choices. That’s not on you.”
The fury behind Ky’s thought is almost enough to knock me off my chair.
Instead I straighten, lean in. Don’t want to miss what the countess has to say. That’s why we’re here, after all.
“The question,” she continues, “is why would David go to such great lengths to steal from me?” She lifts one eyebrow and the corner of her mouth at once. “Before the quake, he was in his chambers. My Guardians have confirmed he took off shortly after with what he believes to be my most prized possession.” Elbows propped and fingers steepled, she taps her chin. “When I discovered he used you all to create a diversion, I immediately took it upon myself to rectify my error and remove you from the catacombs.”
“What did he take?” Ebony chimes in, though the signature irritation in her voice is absent.
The countess eyes her. “A Midnight Rose from the Garden of Epoch.”
A low murmur ensues, whispers rising from both council and crew.
“The place is legend,” Ky informs me alone, distracting me from the conversation. “Said to be guarded by a Fervor Dragon.”
Where is it?
“Where else?” When I don’t respond he adds, “Look around you. We have representatives from every Reflection save two.”
I consider the council members. The countess from the Fourth and me from the Second. Kilt-man introduced himself as one of five chiefs from, you guessed it, the Fifth, while the woman half my size hails as a governor all the way from the Sixth.
The elderly couple are not a couple at all, but a brother and sister from the Third. Caretakers who teach of the Reflections and Callings to those in the Third who have ears to hear. Ky is the one who shared with me how most people in the Third lack belief in the Void and the Verity. How the Called there must keep their abilities hidden.
My mind drifts to that November night two months ago when we walked through Wichgreen Village, sat on a bench, and talked after he saved me from Gage. I welcome the memory instead of hindering it as I’ve become accustomed to doing. Close my eyes and relive his embrace at the village gate. The sound of his voice when he told Gage never to come near me again.
“Earth to Em,” Ky says in my head. “I’m sitting right here. You can have the real thing anytime you wish.”
I blush and revisit his previous question. The First and the Seventh, I think. There aren’t any representatives from those Reflections.
“Precisely.” From the corner of my vision I catch the crook of Ky’s mouth twitch. His eyes are for the countess alone, but that smile is all mine. “The Garden of Epoch spans between the Seventh and First. The Seventh is said to be the only way into the First aside from death.”
“The beginning is the end, and the end is the beginning . . .” Dimitri’s words play across my Scrib memory.
Was he on to something? The whole “time is a loop” thing? Are the Reflections a loop as well?
“That’s what they say.”
Excuse me. I wasn’t thinking to you.
“We’ll have to work on that one then.” Another knock to my knee. “You need to learn to control what I can and can’t hear. Not that I want you to.” I can’t view his full face, but I swear if we were alone he’d be wiggling his eyebrows right about now.
How do you know so much about this? I watch the council exchange words back and forth, but it’s like they’re on mute. Their mouths move, but the only voice I hear is Ky’s.
“Didn’t your mom ever read you Fairy tales as a kid?”
What, like Snow White and Cinderella?
The most indistinguishable shake of his head. He rests the arm opposite me on the table. “More like Lament of the Fairy Queen and The Scrib’s Fate.”
Is he joking? My mom didn’t want me to know anything about the Reflections. She pretty much stuck to normal, Third-type stuff.
Beardy pounds his gargantuan fist on the table.
I jump out of my head—Ky’s head—and back into the present.
“I’m no fool,” the man says. “Give it to me straight. What are we up against?”
“Now, now, Isaach.” The countess lifts her hands, palms out, surrender style. “Let’s remain civil.”
“We ain’t got time for civil, woman.” Another fist pound. If the countess is bothered by his disrespect, her face gives nothing away. “Time’s a wastin’. I forfeited a Unicorn Joust to be here.”
Unicorn Joust? Really?
“Isaach, please,” the dwarf woman—Odessa—says. “Let us hear what Ambrose has to say.”
“My sister and I agree.” The older gentleman raises a hand as if to second a motion. “Go on, Ambrose.”
Isaach grunts, crosses his arms, and burrows down into his chair.
Odessa folds her hands on the table and nods for the countess to continue.
“As I was saying, David and his partner, Gage, are nowhere to be found.”
My insides flip. So it is true. Joshua and Gage were together. Double ugh.
“Fortunately, I would never keep the real Midnight Rose on display for all to see. The one David took was a decoy, which only proves the Void is messing with his mind. He’s smart, so he should’ve figured out it would not be so easy to steal from me. It won’t be long, however, before he discovers it is, in fact, a counterfeit.” Her grin holds a childlike mischief. It’s hard to see her as the cold woman I met upon our arrival. “Anyone after that particular rose would be seeking to use its properties straightaway, especially with a mere three Callings remaining functional.”
“What does it do?” Khloe sits on her knees, bouncing like a kid eager for recess.
The countess either ignores my sister’s question or doesn’t hear it. I’m inclined to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. I have a feeling it’s the former though. My curiosity gets the better of me. I will my thoughts toward Ky.
“I’ve no idea what it does,” he thinks.
And here I thought you knew everything.
“Very funny, sassy pants.”
“We must move forward.” Ambrose rests her attention on Ky and he shifts. Sits a little taller. “Kyaphus, upon your last visit you informed me you seek information regarding the origins of the Void.” She makes eye contact with each crew member in turn. “Am I correct in assuming your entourage is up-to-date on things to this point?”
“Go on.” Gunner waves a hand dismissively. “We’ve seen Captain Warren—er, Kyaphus? . . . Sorry, weird name, bro—has been touched by the Void. And we don’t care. He’s never hurt us. We just want the treasure. Isn’t that right, Flint?” He nudges Flint, who sits one chair over, with his elbow.
“You idiot, there is no treasure. It was a cover. He was using us.” He keeps his head down, studying the table.
My pulse speeds. Can Flint be trusted? He and Ky seemed close on the ship. But now that he’s seen Ky’s secret, will he remain loyal?
“No treasure?” Gunner’s puppy dog eyes are so pathetic, I almost feel sorry for him.
“No treasure, Gun.” As she pats the kidult pirate on the back, Charley’s tone hovers between disappointment and pity.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” a new voice says from the second door. Everyone at the table transfers their gaze to where Tide stands. I’d nearly forgotten about the countess’s son. Does that make him a count then? Weird.
Tide lifts a book into the air like a trophy. “There is treasure. Just not the kind we expected.”
The countess beams. “Ah yes. I believe I’ve uncovered something but have not had the opportunity to share with my council. Please, Kyaphus, fill everyone in before we proceed.”
Ky rises, the legs of his chair scraping as he does. He shoves his hands into his pockets and makes eye contact with each person at the table just as the countess did. When he reaches me he pauses longer than necessary. “First to my crew, I sincerely apologize for keeping the true purpose of our voyage undercover. I worried you would either think I was crazy for wanting to destroy the Void—”
“Destroy the Void?” Gunner again. I suppress the far-from-professional laughter I so want to let go. “Awesome. I’m in. Where do I sign?”
“Would you be quiet?” Flint growls.
“—or not trust me because of this.” Ky holds up his right arm, still visible through his torn sleeves. The interruption doesn’t seem to have fazed him. “I was wrong to hide the truth, and for that I ask your forgiveness.”
Gunner and Tide nod. It’s Tide who says, “Yeah, man. No big deal.”
Flint continues to stare at the table. I recognize the glaze in his eyes, the hunch in his back. Because I’ve been there. He feels betrayed. It will take him time to recover.
“As Countess Ambrose here knows,” Ky goes on, “I’ve been searching for information on the origins of the Void and the Verity. There is next to nothing to be found on the subject. Those I’ve spoken with have said the Verity and the Void have always required vessels. This is how it’s always been and always will be.”
But they’re wrong. A piping hot cup of anticipation brews. Dimitri was on to something indeed. “. . . all things begin somewhere,” he wrote.
Yes. Yes, they do.
“However”—Ky clears his throat—“I believe I uncovered a clue that has led me to believe the Void was created—by the Verity.”
I watch the faces of the council and crew. All hang on Ky’s words. He has earned the respect of the countess. Commands the room like the captain he is. He was born to lead. Born for the role he plays.
Though he doesn’t take his eyes off the countess, I know he hears my thoughts. He smirks. Rolls his shoulders back. “And if something was created, it can certainly be destroyed. It was you, Countess Ambrose, who told me I was looking in the wrong places. You said if I wanted to discover the origins of the Void and the Verity, I would have to search where one would least expect to find an event in history.”
I hear Ky’s next line in my head before it’s uttered. The answer is so simple. Of course that’s where the information would be. Why didn’t I think of it? All those hours I spent in the library. All that time consumed examining The Reflection Chronicles. I was researching facts, real-life accounts. But I missed what has been right there all along.
All fiction is drawn from fact. Look at my life. I never believed in Fairy tales. In true love or legends or myths. But it’s real. All of it. And it always has been. It was simply my perspective that had to change. My mind needed to open, welcome a new reality. And all at once, it does.
With a crooked grin Ky says, “I would have to search in children’s stories.”