Isla was pulled through the mirror into a crystal world.
In the many months she had anticipated this demonstration, she had determined her greatest fear: failing her realm.
She had readied herself to see a field of fallen Wildlings. Burned forests. A dead Poppy and Terra at her feet.
Now that she was in the trial, there were no bodies, no flames, no dying wildlife.
Only a room. Her room, in Wildling.
It looked exactly like it did when she left it. Clean. Proper. Her wall of swords glimmered at one side, winking their hello.
She expected to feel a rush of relief at being back, at being in a place so familiar after two weeks surrounded by strangers. In a strange land ruled by secrets.
But all she felt was dread.
If she failed, this was where she would return. She would live out the rest of her short, cursed, powerless, mortal life hidden away again. The realm would need a better heir for the next Centennial, so she would be forced to have a child.
She would continue to be sheltered. One book from the library at a time.
Visits to her people from a distance, if at all.
Choices made for her by Wildlings who knew better, who knew more than just these glass walls.
Secret travels with her starstick.
Not even training, because there would be nothing left to train for.
Forests and people that would continue to die, flowers that would become extinct, Wildlings forced to kill for survival, unable to ever fall in love, turning them more and more into the beasts the rest of the realms believed them to be.
No.
She couldn’t bear a life like that.
Lightlark was dangerous but full of wonders. Now that she had tasted freedom, she couldn’t be locked in her glass box again and be content.
She wanted more than she had ever wanted in her life.
Isla watched herself reflected in the glass windows before her. As if spurred by her thoughts, her reflection began to move of its own free will.
She watched as it paced around the room. Lay in bed. Read a single book. Again. Again. Again. The reflection sped up, her movements a blur, and the days passed by too quickly, like time had tripped over itself, again, again, again. This time, instead of reading the book, her reflection tore its pages out. Banged on the windows instead of staring out of them. Pulled at her hair instead of braiding it. Forced back the floorboards, one by one, searching for something, fingers bleeding. Her starstick? Had her guardians found and gotten rid of her starstick? Years seemed to flip by in seconds, and eventually the reflection stood still in the middle of the room as time continued to pass her by, her body weakening, hair falling out, her soul scooped out of her chest. Her eyes had gone lifeless.
She couldn’t see herself like this. Empty. All the best parts of herself stripped away. Isla reached a hand out to touch her reflection, to comfort it
—
And suddenly, she was looking back at her own self. Her heart was beating too quickly.
Was that her fate, should she fail? Was that what she was destined to become? A hull of herself?
A prisoner?
Something lurched, screeching— The room became smaller.
Isla startled, moving closer to its center. Somehow, the walls had moved, the floor had been eaten up.
Smaller.
The glass rattled as it shrank. Perfumes fell from her vanity and smashed against the tile, her leftover makeup soon joining them, blots of color bleeding, bright powders making plumes of dust.
Smaller.
Isla’s heartbeat rang through her ears in warning; her fingers shook, and sweat dripped down her forehead. The room was going to swallow her
whole, press its glass against her skin, make her and her reflection one and the same.
Smaller.
The ceiling concaved, nearly skewering her in place. The walls folded together, getting smaller, smaller, smaller.
Her bed was gone, her things were mangled in the mess, and the room was getting smaller still, shrinking all around her.
This was her fate. The reflection had told it to her. Locked forever in a room.
A secret too shameful to share. A curse too painful to bear.
The room creaked, and Isla’s bones vibrated with the movement of everything around her being eaten up, enclosed, matted over.
No.
She refused.
Isla hadn’t worked for years for her efforts to be useless, to be a victim of this room and her circumstances.
She hadn’t even known how much she was missing. Now that she saw how much the world had to offer, she wanted it all.
She wanted everything.
Isla wouldn’t return here. She would either break her curse—or die trying.
Before she could make a single move to stop her fate, however, it seemed she was too late. There was nothing she could do as the remaining walls all fell down atop her.
The bites of a million pieces of glass were a constellation across her body as the room shattered. Before she could move out of its path, a massive solid pane crushed her without breaking. Her breath was torn from her chest. The world was black and silent. Her face pressed against the glass, so closely she couldn’t breathe.
Was she permanently in the mirror?
Had she joined the girl in the reflection?
She tried to move a foot, a leg, anything—and finally managed to feel around with her fingers. Only one hand hadn’t been crushed by the wall.
Give me a chance, she told her broken bones. Give me a chance, and I’ll make sure we never become her.
Her fingers searched blindly, desperately, until a blade cut through her skin like butter. She grinned beneath the rubble. It was one of her swords. She gripped its hilt—
And broke through the glass that had smothered her. Isla gasped.
She was back in the hall.
The mirror had gone still again. Her rattled reflection stared back at her.
This time, it did not move of its own accord.
Isla tore her hand away, her palm cold as ice.
There was no applause. No sound as she backed away, and the demonstration ended. Cleo was crowned the winner.
Isla remained in the hall until it was just her, the mirror, and Celeste.
“How long?” Isla finally asked. She was certain her time had been far longer than everyone else’s. That was why the crowds had left so suddenly. That was why no one had caught her eye, why Celeste hadn’t nodded at her or touched her nose or done any of their subtle tricks to speak to one another in secret.
Celeste frowned. “Six minutes,” she said simply. “Why didn’t you look at the hourglass?”
Six minutes. That wasn’t bad.
Isla didn’t bother answering Celeste’s question, because she didn’t want to admit that she had been afraid to look. That she felt on edge.
She might have faced her fear in the mirror . . . but she had never been more scared.
Now she had seen her worst fear embodied, brought to life. She would do anything to keep that fear from becoming reality. And that, perhaps, scared her most of all.
The Starling ruler was circling the mirror, looking at it carefully. Isla watched from a distance as Celeste strung her fingers together and smiled. “It worked.”
Isla straightened. “How do you know?”
Celeste snapped her fingers, and sparks illuminated the hall. Handprints glowed silver across the mirror’s glass. Every ruler’s print and essence had
been stored by the relic.
The Starling pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket. They were so thin they looked translucent. Isla nearly retched. She had done it. She had completed her part of their plan.
Isla opened her mouth, ready to ask if Celeste had truly managed to find a pair of the gloves in a dark market somewhere on Lightlark. The alternative—
Celeste shot her a look that made her think better of it.
Frowning in focus, the Starling slowly rolled on the new gloves. They sounded both papery and leathery, crinkling as they slid down her skin. Isla winced. When they were fully on, Celeste carefully pressed them against each handprint, letting the marks soak into the gloves. They would absorb the energy the enchanted Starling mirror had taken from all the rulers, to be used later. It was an inconsequential amount. Not enough to be used in battle or make any meaningful display.
But every library on Lightlark had a protected section, a home for each realm’s most valuable relics. Each was guarded by enchantments that only allowed a ruler and their essence to enter.
Wearing these gloves, Isla would be granted access.
Now, she had everything she needed to begin searching the libraries for the bondbreaker.
