REFLECTION
The door past the sphinxes opened to another narrow corridor, empty of fire-breathing dragons this time, but no less strange. It stretched away into the darkness, lit only by orange candlelight, f lickering against walls. The f lames seemed to f loat in the air, ref lecting off the surfaces of hundreds of full length mirrors lining the corridor on both sides.
Glancing at my own image, I paused, faintly surprised at the stranger in the mirror. The pale, dark-haired ref lection stared back grimly, clothes tattered around the edges, eyes touched with exhaustion. I barely recognized myself, but maybe that was a good thing. After all, that was why I was here; to become something else, someone else. If all went as planned, Ashal ayn’darkmyr Tall yn, third prince of the Unseelie Court, would no longer exist.
What will it be like as a human? I wondered at my ref lection. Will I still be myself? Will I remember everything about my life in the Winter Court, or will all those memories disappear? I shook my head. It was useless to wonder about that now, when we were so close, but still ….
“Come on, handsome.” Puck put a hand on my shoulder, and I brushed it off. “Quit preening. I think we’re almost there.” As we started down the corridor, wary of traps and pits and ambushes, I thought of Meghan, back in the Iron Kingdom. It would be dreadfully ironic, I mused, if once I earned a soul, I forgot everything about being 215/387
fey, including all my memories of her. That sort of ending seemed appropriately tragic; the smitten fey creature becomes human but forgets why he wanted to in the first place. Old fairy tales loved that sort of irony.
I won’t let that happen, I told myself, clenching my fists. If I have to have Puck tell me everything, even if he has to go through our entire history, I will find a way to make it back to her. I will not become human only to forget it all.
The hallway went on. The f lickering candles cast strange lights in the opposite mirrors, endless rows of f lame, stretching to infinity. From the corner of my eye, I saw my own dark ref lection, walking along beside me. Smirking.
Except, I wasn’t.
I stopped and slowly turned toward the mirror, dropping my hand to my sword. In the glass, my reflection did the same…but it wasn’t me. It was someone who looked like me, pale and tall, with dark hair and silver eyes. He wore black armor, a tattered cape and a crown of ice rested on his brow. I drew in a slow breath and I recognized him.
It was me, the me I’d seen in the dream, the Ash who gave in to the darkness. Who killed Mab, claimed the throne and cut a bloody path through the Nevernever and the other courts. Ash the Winter King.
He was smiling at me, that same cold, empty smirk that showed the madness behind it, but otherwise our movements were the same, identical.
Backing away, I looked to my companions, who had also discovered the new ref lections in the mirrors. Behind me, Ariel a stared in horror at herself, pale and statuesque in an elegant court gown. Her slender 216/387
hands gripped an icy scepter. But her eyes were empty and cruel, her face without emotion. A circlet glittered on her forehead, not unlike the crown of the Unseelie King. A Queen of Winter, she stared with cold, impassive eyes until Ariel a turned away with a shudder.
“Prince,” Puck murmured, coming up beside me, standing so that he faced my shoulder, his back to the mirror. His voice, though light, was curiously shaken. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing, or is it just me?” I glanced at Puck in the mirror behind us and had to stif le the urge to shove him away and draw my sword. Puck’s head gazed over my shoulder, lips pulled into a vicious grin that was almost animalistic, teeth gleaming in the firelight. His eyes were narrowed gleefully, but it was the kind of mad glee that sent shivers through you, the type of glee that found humor in drowned kittens and poisoned cattle. This was the prankster whose jokes had turned deadly, who put adders in pillowcases, let wolves in with the sheep and made all light go away at the edge of a cliff. He was shirtless, barefooted and wild looking, the Robin Goodfel ow I’d seen glimpses of when he was truly angry and out for revenge. The Robin Goodfel ow that everyone worried about, because we all knew Puck could turn into this.
“You can see it too, huh?” Puck murmured when I didn’t say anything right away. I nodded, once. “Well, your ref lection isn’t too encouraging either, ice-boy. In fact, it’s kinda weird seeing us like this, because you look like you really, really want to cut my head off.” I pushed him away, and our images did the same. “Ignore them,” I said, walking toward Ariel a. “They’re only ref lections of what could be. They don’t mean anything.”