Chapter 34

Thirty-Four

N ails hammered at the back of her skull like someone constructed a building inside her head, her memory a blur of flickering images. A crimson river, spilling and flowing. Coldness. Emptiness. A midnight death. A shadowed prince. Claws, fangs, and broken screams. Blood. So much blood. Leaking through her fingers and dripping through her hair.

Her memories were a maze of cobwebs.

Complex and twisted.

A severed haze, like a ray of sun bursting through a layer of thick morning mist.

The last solid thing Quinn remembered was . . . a beautiful man, a manifestation of darkness telling her to sleep. And then nothing.

As she rolled over, her legs caressed a cloud—soft and silky. The finest sheets she'd ever felt in her life.

A blue velvet curtain hung around the massive four-poster bed. Gilded rose carvings decorated the wood above her. The curtains had golden roses embroidered into it.

Quinn opened the drapes and swung her legs onto the floor. Her toes scratched against hardwood.

But something was off. Her feet felt different. Pulling up a foot, she inspected it and nearly screamed at the sight. Her toenails were no longer bruised, and the pads of her feet had no calluses—perfectly smooth. She ran her fingers along her calf; the cut from the souvenir steamship was gone with no scar. Checking the rest of her body, Quinn discovered that every one of her scars had vanished.

Just like in the first chamber in the Mirror of Terror. It came true.

Her heart was a fast-flying hummingbird in her chest.

A sudden wave of memory hit. Compulsion and blood. And a vampire hovering over her broken body. Then, as the wave hit, it disappeared and was replaced by a wave of frustration gathering in her core. She had no calluses. Getting her feet into shape for ballet took years. Years of built-up muscles, broken toenails, and calluses.

She needed them to dance.

There were Royalle Ballet auditions to complete.

But if the first chamber of the Mirror of Terror came true, what was next? All of the chambers had gotten progressively worse.

Her stomach dropped to her toes, and her hands shook terribly. She was losing all control, and she needed to hold onto it tightly.

Control was freedom—it was safety.

Quinn rubbed her temples, desperately trying to remember. Only magic could heal and leave no scars. Had she gone to the healing mirror or some other looking glass? She'd been hurt. That memory was clear, but how did she heal? Had a mirror healed her but stolen her memory? Was that its cost?

Quinn stood and turned in a circle. Crystal sconces decorated with white roses lit the room dimly. Gold paint shone on the walls, glittering with expensive carvings. A violet armchair sat against the walls, and in the corner, was her massive wardrobe.

The bedroom door swung open with fury, and Giselle flew in and pounced on her best friend. Quinn grimaced and stiffened as pain raked through her body. She was magically healed, but her whole body felt unspeakably sore. "Ouch."

"Oh, sorry," Giselle said, releasing her arms.

Constance let out a low chuckle as she leaned against the doorframe. "Careful, Giselle, we don't want to break her."

Jevon strolled in as if on a breeze of wind and slowly slid into the violet chair. Always quiet, always assessing. Almost as if he believed that words were precious and only gifted sparingly.

Giselle plopped herself on the bed in a huff. "What happened, Quinn? You scared me half to death." A tear stroked down her cheek. "I wasn't sure if you would wake up. You were asleep for a day, and your entire tutu was soaked in blood. No human could survive a wound like that."

Quinn sank onto the bed. "I have no idea what happened. The last thing I remember is auditions."

Constance strolled over to the bed with the grace of a queen. A shock of heat sizzled up Quinn's arms as Constance said, "It's going to be okay. We will figure this out. All of it." It sounded as if she were trying to convince herself of that fact more than Quinn.

"We're here. No matter what," Giselle added.

"You scared us." Jevon steepled his fingers under his chin. "We thought you were dead. It was terrible."

A flicker of emotion came behind his normally kind eyes, almost as if a different, darker version of him lurked underneath. His protective and dangerous side. A side she loved about him. Jevon was cinnamon cake, warm, gooey, and lovely, but he also had a piece of him fiercely loyal and pure iron.

"You don't remember anything?"

"No." Quinn rubbed her temples.

A flash of trees and icy wind crept into her head. The Nature District. Memories sliced through the lobes of her brain. Disorienting and sharp. Burning bodies and a river of blood. White ballet tutus and vampires. And an attack. Emrys and blood. So, so much blood.

The memories faded. Quinn gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. Fear and shock cascaded and coiled in her stomach.

Rolling her shoulders back, she tried to shake the fear and stabilize herself.

"What is it?" Constance asked.

Quinn's legs tingled as if her fear were a physical thing, piercing its talons into her entire being.

Upon her lack of an answer, Constance asked, "Are you okay?"

Quinn swallowed and passed the knot in her throat. "Yes. Where is Emrys?"

"Your uncle is blaming him for allowing you to nearly die," Constance said.

"Like it was Emrys's fault." Giselle jumped up from the bed and started examining items in the room as if she were deciding which of them she was going to "borrow." "I am pretty sure he is not responsible for every vampire."

The grandfather clock struck noon, and a rattle went through Quinn's bones as she remembered that she had to get to today's Royalle Ballet auditions.

"Oh, no. Auditions." Quinn rushed to stand but was stopped by Constance's arms.

Constance pushed her friend down with a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, no, you don't. You couldn't even dance right now if you tried. Give it a day, at least. You nearly died." Her voice shook as she said the last bit.

"But—"

"Emrys forced the Royalle Ballet Director to postpone yesterday, today, and tomorrow's auditions because he thought it was disrespectful to the illusion ceremony or some nonsense."

"He did what?"

Constance scrunched her nose and laced her fingers through the fringe on a throw pillow. "Our dearest prince canceled the Royalle Ballet auditions because you were unable to attend. "

"He did what?" Quinn said again as the door opened to the prince and her uncle.

The two looked disheveled and like they'd just gone three rounds in the boxing ring, but neither one spoke.

"You canceled Royalle Ballet auditions?" she asked, her voice dropping in shock.

Emrys's mouth quirked. "Oh, yes, of course. The illusion ceremony is gravely important. Auditions cannot occur the day before or after it." He winked.

"Quinnevere Ashelle, what in the world were you doing in the Nature District?" Uncle Matias's voice dripped with disappointment.

Quinn's brow furrowed, and her shoulder blades drew together. "I—" She gulped. "I don't fully remember."

"You don't fully remember?" Uncle Matias's voice was a low hiss. "Get your things. You're coming home now."

"It is far safer for her here," Emrys said lazily. "We can protect her."

Uncle Matias's head whipped to the prince. "Like you protected her from the vampire attack?"

"I saved her life."

"After you put her in danger."

"Wait, what?" Quinn cut into the verbal sparring match. "Emrys wasn't with me. I sent him away after auditions."

"I thought you didn't remember." Her uncle crossed his arms.

Quinn sucked in a breath. "I don't remember the attack or how I got there, but I remember what happened before it."

"Precisely why you're coming home with me now." Her uncle pointed at the door. "He very well could've attacked you, and you wouldn't know it."

"Emrys didn't attack me."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do. And I am not a child." She folded her arms in a way that completely undermined her point, but she'd already done it, so she committed fully to the movement. "I have reached the age of majority, and you're no longer responsible for me." She paused, letting the fire in her voice settle. "I would like to stay here."

The blood rushed from her uncle's face, and a storm gathered on his features. "If this is your wish, then I'll leave."

As he reached for the door handle, Quinn said, "I love you, Uncle Matias, and I hope you can forgive me, but I have to see this through."

He hesitated with his back to her. Quinn's heart froze, and her mouth tasted like misery. Hurting the people she loved felt like eating poison. Guttural agony. Uncle Matias pivoted and tilted his head slightly before turning the handle and disappearing into the hall.

Silence dripped through the room like melting tar. Everyone was completely unsure what to say after that exchange. Especially Quinn. She'd never been so disobedient in her life. She was a rule follower.

Orderly. Precise.

"So, we have a problem." It was Giselle who finally cut through the tension.

Eight confused eyes landed on the beautiful brunette, but it was Emrys who answered in his practiced bored response. "What is that?"

"Vampires," Giselle said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You have the Suitor Ball in two days, and it seems like a vampire is threatening our lives and possibly the humans at the ball. We need to find a way to protect them."

Jevon leaned forward in his chair, the noise catching everyone's attention. "What are your weaknesses?"

Emrys rubbed his chin, pondering the question. "We only have two. But only one you might be able to manipulate to your benefit."

"And do you plan on telling us what it is?" Giselle raised a walnut eyebrow, clearly annoyed by him dodging the question.

"Silver," he said, a devil-may-care smile dancing on his lips. " Even the smallest amounts of silver can slow us down and incapacitate us, but it won't kill us."

Embers popped and crackled in the fireplace as the group contemplated the new information. "Would a lot of confetti laced with silver incapacitate you?" Giselle asked.

Quinn snorted, knowing exactly where her best friend was heading. Giselle was the inventor, but Quinn often helped with her experiments and pranks. One of her pranks was even integrated into the Viridian shows—her confetti bombs.

"Yes," he said.

A fiendish smile that matched Emrys's usual demeanor spread on Giselle's face. "Yeah, we can definitely make that work. Do you have a vacuum?"

He pinched his lips in confusion. "Of course, I have a vacuum."

"Do you have thirteen vacuums?" Quinn wrinkled her nose. She knew it sounded ridiculous, but Giselle needed motors, and one vacuum would not be enough. "Or access to motors? Vacuum motors would be the easiest to convert. Or possibly a camera. How many cameras and clocks do you have?"

Emrys stroked his lapel. It seemed to be something he did when he was nervous or confused or needed to center himself. "What are you going to make?"

"Silver confetti bombs," Giselle said.

"That could work," he said. "At least it would slow a vampire down long enough for any humans to get to safety."

"It's brilliant, Giselle. I'll help you make them," Quinn said.

"No, I'll be making them while you work out whatever it is you two need to work out." Giselle waved a hand, motioning between Quinn and the prince, her annoyance on full display.

"What do you mean?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, confusion licking at her core.

"Oh, come on, Quinn. You two obviously have a lot to talk about in private ," Giselle said, cocking her head and examing the grandfather clock as if looking for the best way to gut it .

Emrys locked his gaze on Quinn as he slid his hands into his pockets. "We do have things to talk about."

Quinn knew this, but she didn't know if she was ready to find out the consequences of him saving her life again. The lack of callouses on her feet indicated she wasn't going to like what she heard.