I reached into my pocket, drew out the gold chain and pendant that Lena had been wearing, and set them on the desk. The three coins that made up the woman’s eyes and mouth glimmered like gold stars. The Fortuna Mint pendant was another piece to add to my macabre collection of jewelry that my enemies had worn. Enemies who were all dead now, except for Maeven.
The desire to tear her to pieces for what she’d done to my family rose up inside me, and I gave in to my rage, leaned back in the chair, and let myself imagine choking the life out of Maeven with my bare hands. Then I slowly, reluctantly pushed the fantasy aside. I had something else in mind for Maeven, something far worse than a quick and easy death, but only time would tell whether I’d triumph in my long game with her and she’d get what she so richly deserved.
Still thinking about my plans for Maeven, I glanced over at the freestanding mirror in the corner. The long oval glass housed in a plain ebony frame looked like another ordinary piece of furniture, but it was actually a Cardea mirror that let people see and speak to each other over great distances.
I had discovered the mirror a couple of months ago, after Maeven had sent an assassin to Seven Spire to try to kill me, and I had spoken to her through the glass several times since then. Perhaps it was strange, but I actually found myself looking forward to our talks. Maybe because this was the only way I had to keep track of Maeven and figure out what new plots she was hatching. Or maybe it was because the two of us understood each other better than anyone else ever could, as weird and wrong as that was. Either way, I waited, wondering if Maeven would appear tonight.
About five minutes later, the scent of magic filled the chambers, and the mirror started glowing with a bright, silvery light. I stood up and walked over to the mirror, which was now rippling as though it were made of water instead of solid glass. The silver glare quickly faded away, and the surface of the mirror smoothed out, revealing Maeven’s chambers, which were much like the ones I was standing in here at Seven Spire. But to my surprise, she didn’t appear on the other side of the glass.
A boy did.
He was thirteen, maybe fourteen, with black hair, pale skin, and a body that was all long, thin, spindly arms and legs, although I could see subtle hints of the strong, solid man he would grow into. His head was turned to the side, and his profile and the shape of his nose, lips, and chin were eerily similar to Maeven’s.
This had to be Maeven’s son. Dahlia, Sullivan’s mother and another member of the Bastard Brigade, had said that Maeven had children, and I was finally getting a look at one of them. I wondered if he was already as cruel as his mother was.
The boy didn’t seem to realize that I was watching him. Instead, he kept looking at something on his side of the glass, something out of my line of sight.
“You have to go through the mirror,” he said in a low, desperate voice. “It’s the only way.”
At first I thought he was talking to Maeven and telling her what to do, as strange as that would have been. Then talons scraped on the floor, and a creature hopped into view.
A strix.
The strix was a hawklike bird with bright purple eyes, a sharp, pointed black beak, and curved black talons. Its feathers were a deep, vibrant amethyst, and every single one on its broad, strong wings and long, wide tail was tipped with a glossy black marking, making the creature look like it had onyx arrows attached to its body.
Mortan soldiers often rode strixes into battle, and the creatures were one of the reasons why Morta was such a threat to Bellona. Not only did the creatures grow to be larger and stronger than Floresian horses, but they were also taught to attack with their wings, and those hard onyx points on their feathers were sharp enough to slice a man to shreds.
This strix was about the size of a large dog. It wasn’t a baby, but it wasn’t fully grown yet either, just like the boy wasn’t a child and hadn’t yet morphed into a man. Still, even now the creature was dangerous, and my hand dropped to my sword.
“Please,” the boy begged, a louder, more desperate note in his voice. “Just hop through the mirror. That’s all you have to do. Then you can break through a window and fly away. You can finally be free, even if I can’t.”
The strix shook its head and ruffled its wings in a clear, resounding no. It didn’t want to go through the mirror. But the more important question was why the boy wanted to send it here.
Was this Maeven’s latest scheme? The other members of the Bastard Brigade hadn’t succeeded in killing me yet, so maybe she was going to start sending strixes after me. Although if that was the case, why not send one that was fully grown? And what did the boy—her son—have to do with this?
I decided to find out.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this mirror only lets people see and talk to each other,” I called out, rapping my knuckles on the ebony frame. “It doesn’t let you send things through to the other side.”
The boy jerked and stumbled back, almost tripping over the strix, who squawked in surprise and hopped out of the way. The boy’s head snapped around, and he finally looked at me. He also had Maeven’s eyes, those dark amethyst eyes that were so beautiful and yet the bane of my existence at the same time.
“What—what are you doing here?” the boy asked.
“This mirror is in my palace, so I have every right to be here.”
His gaze swept over me, lingering on the tearstone sword and dagger belted to my waist. His face paled, and he shifted on his feet and wet his lips. “You’re—you’re the Bellonan queen,” he finally whispered.
“Yes, I am. Now, who are you and what are you doing in Maeven’s chambers?”
He grimaced, but he kept quiet.
“You might as well tell me. Or would you prefer that I ask your mother the next time I speak to her?”
He jerked again in obvious surprise. Unlike his mother, the boy was terrible at hiding his emotions. “How—how do you know that I’m Maeven’s son?”
“Because you look just like her. I’ve seen enough members of the Bastard Brigade to recognize Maeven’s spawn.”
The boy grimaced again, and hurt flickered in his eyes. I wondered if he was a bastard like his mother was. Probably, given his reaction.
Even though he was a Mortan and the son of my most hated enemy, a surprising amount of sympathy filled me. Over the past several months, I had watched Sullivan deal with being a bastard prince, along with Dahlia’s betrayal. Even if she loved the boy, it couldn’t be easy having Maeven for a mother. I could also hear Diante’s voice whispering in my mind, asking me to judge her grandson Nico on his own merits, instead of my complicated feelings for the lady herself.
“What’s your name?” I asked in a gentler tone.
The boy stared at me with suspicion.
“I’m going to find it out sooner or later. You can tell me now, or I can ask your mother. Since it doesn’t look like she’s around, I imagine that she’ll be very upset about you using the Cardea mirror without her permission.”
The boy grimaced for a third time. Oh, no. He definitely didn’t want Maeven learning about this, which made me even more curious as to what exactly this was.
“If I tell you my name, will you promise not to tell my mother that you saw me here?” he asked, that desperate note in his voice again. “Or that Lyra was with me?”