“I am saying,” Isuke continued, “that magic mirrors itself, both in power and intent. Like every mirror, all magic has a dark side. A side that can be tricked into seeing what it wishes to see.” For a moment, she seemed amused by her own words. “In magic and in life, deceit is often the best way to defeat one’s enemies.”
The mirror spun. Slowly. Lazily. It flashed silver as it met Shahrzad’s face, before catching Khalid’s reflection. Then the mirror’s dark side passed, whirling around in another play of light and shadow.
Shahrzad blinked. When she glanced to her right, she noticed Khalid’s brow had furrowed in concentration. As though the mirror had become a complex riddle he intended to solve.
Isuke’s voice faded to a languid drone. “Thus, if you wish to determine an appropriate counterpoint for this curse, you must delve beneath its surface.”
I don’t . . . understand.
The revolving mirror caught Shahrzad’s attention once more. Flashing before making another slow turn. Light and dark. Shahrzad, then Khalid. Again. And again.
Shahrzad grew dizzy. The scent of lemons and mint filled her nostrils and spread into her chest. Her eyelids began to droop. A heaviness slid around her like a second skin, as though she were on the verge of falling asleep. Or drifting in that space between dreams, where she was aware of what was happening around her, but had no control over it.
In that moment of suspended weightlessness, an unwanted presence entered her mind.
It was as though a hooded figure had ambled into the haze of her bedchamber, rummaging through her things like a thief in the night. When it failed to find what it was looking for, it turned in her direction.
Shahrzad gasped.
It did not have a face. Where there should have been features was instead a blank oval of ivory, like a polished eggshell. The faceless intruder glided toward her, then led her into a misty corridor, glancing through open doors to its left and right.
The rooms within were filled with Shahrzad’s memories. All the times she’d fought with Shiva or Irsa. Made a point to return Rahim’s good-natured grumbling. Listened to her mother recite stories. Disappeared for a stolen embrace with Tariq. Read books alongside her father. Cried alone in her room.
The intruder dwelt on some of the moments she’d shared with Khalid. Many of the nights she’d told him tales by lamplight. Contended with him over matters of the heart, while tearing bread into tiny pieces. All the times she’d kissed him—in darkened alleys and behind veils of shimmering gossamer. The interloper lingered for a spell on their first kiss in the souk.
As though it had come to the same understanding as they had in that instant.
Her intruder soon developed a keen interest in any memory of her father. It watched without eyes as Jahandar presented Shahrzad with the single budding rose from his garden, the afternoon she’d first come to the palace at Rey. It leaned in closer—eager—while Jahandar coaxed the rose to life, only to bring it past death with an unwitting turn of his wrist.
After that, the intruder searched with purpose through the misty hallways for Jahandar al-Khayzuran. Soon, it came across the memory of the day before, when Shahrzad had pressed her father for information on what had transpired the night of the storm in Rey.
On what Jahandar had done to his hands. To his hair. To Irsa’s horse.
To the very storm itself.
His eyes aflame, Jahandar had shown her the book he’d kept pressed to his chest all this time. He’d removed a black key from around his neck.
And unlocked the tome . . .
To shine a slow-spreading silver light upon his face.
From beyond the white haze, the faceless intruder reached a cold hand to tightly clench Shahrzad’s wrist.
Tightly enough to draw pain.
Shahrzad stifled a cry.
“Aunt Isuke!” Artan thundered. “That’s enough!”
The sound of broken glass scattered the weightless drift in Shahrzad’s mind, bringing everything back into stuttering focus.
Her eyes flashed open. She was brought out of a world of hazy white smoke.
The first thing she noticed was the imprint of a hand on her wrist. Red and throbbing and real. Shahrzad blinked hard. When she glanced up, her heart plummeted into her stomach.
Both Khalid and Artan were on their feet.
Khalid’s sword had been hurled across the room. It was embedded in a far wall at an odd angle, its jeweled hilt still shuddering from impact.
Isuke’s ominous mirror was in pieces around them.
Shahrzad knew Khalid had shattered it. Somehow, he had managed to break whatever control the sorceress had over him and had destroyed her mirror in an attempt to stop her. In response, the sorceress had flung Khalid’s sword far out of reach.
Now Artan stood between Khalid and his aunt.
He did nothing while his aunt stole into my mind. Where do Artan Temujin’s loyalties lie?
She initially thought Artan had stepped between Khalid and his aunt to prevent Khalid from attacking her.