Chapter 4

Four

Q uinn sucked in a breath as the mirror portal's texture cascaded over her. The sensation felt like bathing in roses, almost as if a mixture of silk and velvet were caressing her naked skin. It was warm and inviting. Yet, she couldn't figure out if it calmed her nerves or made the experience more terrifying.

Because all that glitters isn't gold. Sometimes it's rotting flesh . . . or in this case, gilded wicked mirrors.

Stepping out of the barrier, Quinn fell onto a pile of wisteria petals, and with a huff, Jane landed beside her.

At least her friend was in this horrible realm, too.

Fucking mirrors.

Although, technically, Mirror-Rites were supposed to be done alone. But Quinn didn't know if that was a rule or a suggestion. Some things about the mirrors were so obvious, while others were infuriatingly vague.

"You shouldn't be here." Quinn rounded on Jane. "It's my Mirror-Rite."

"That's not a real rule," Jane said, grasping Quinn's arm. "You're going to be fine."

"Fine," Quinn whispered through gritted teeth. "This is Beautiful Decay."

A shiver crashed through Quinn's body as she took in the realm of the second most evil mirror in the city. It was a sea of color. A sunken garden, but not a real one. The hues were too bright and the foliage too pristine, lacking all imperfections. And the flowers . . . they created a tapestry of poison: lilies, oleander, wolfsbane, and nightshade danced in the morning breeze and sang a song of bewitching death.

It was funny how most beautiful things in nature were deadly. Kind of like how beautiful men were deadly—at least for Quinn's resolve not to want them—

Fucking magic spells . This place lured her into a calm, dream-like state and made her forget Jane's betrayal. Because once someone was in a mirror, the god had full control.

"What the fuck was that? Why did you do it?" Quinn rubbed her temples to calm herself down, but hurt still held up the scaffolding of her heart.

Jane held up her hands. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't let you bargain with Midnight. She accidentally causes permanent consequences."

"Are you out of your mind? Beautiful Decay is—" evil. Quinn said the last bit in her head, suddenly realizing that she probably shouldn't say it out loud where the god could hear her.

Jane visibly swallowed. "I know how it seems. Nightshade is known for cruel bargains, but he's my friend."

"A friend?" Quinn's voice pulsed with fascination and utter confusion. Humans weren't friends with mirrors. It just wasn't done. They were monsters, not drinking mates.

"Do you trust me?" Jane's tone was a plea.

Quinn hesitated. If Jane had asked that question a couple of minutes before, she would have said yes. She would have said she trusted Jane with her life. But now . . . she wasn't so sure.

"I swear he won't hurt or take advantage of you. He only punishes the bad—the people willing to trade anything for selfish gains."

"Coming from the person who made a deal with Nightmare, that's the Looking Glass, Jane." Quinn's body was a thousand fractured fireflies buzzing and burning inside of her. "He's responsible for everyone's nightmares in the city."

Thirty years ago, the Royalle House made a deal with the Looking Glass. The deal was simple: the mirror would power the city's electrical grid, but the cost was nightmares—every person in the city would experience them, often nightly. Because the Royalle House represented everyone in the city, they could bind everyone to deals too.

"Nightmare not as bad as he seems either." Quinn bit the inside of her lip as Jane continued, "I wouldn't bring you in here if I thought you'd be harmed."

Jane had lost it—completely.

Beautiful Decay was danger incarnate .

Everyone knew it. It was common knowledge that the sky was blue, rainbows followed the rain, and Beautiful Decay and Nightmare were never to be trusted.

Unwritten fact.

Jane wrung her hands, and her sleeves fell down her wrist, exposing the small intricate tattoo of a stemmed-looking glass on the outside of her right thumb. Another secret. A Mirror-Blessed tattoo. When someone traded for magical abilities, the tattoo was burned into their skin.

Trading for magic wasn't forbidden, but it was seen as taboo. So taboo, in fact, that groups of non-magical humans hunted down the Mirror-Blessed for sport, torturing and killing them.

A metallic sensation coated Quinn's mouth. It was like she tasted ash and smoke. She thought she knew Jane, but she'd never mentioned being Mirror-Blessed. Technically, Jane hadn't lied about it, but she also hadn't been truthful either. They were supposed to be best friends—s upposed to be honest with each other .

Jevon and Constance were honest about their Mirror-Blessed tattoos that they covered with mirror cosmetics—makeup that erased any blemish. If someone had enough money, they could buy them. While expensive, the cosmetics didn't require a bargain from the wearer because once a mirror object was created, anyone could use it. Deep down, Quinn wondered if people who wore mirror cosmetics too often had unforeseen consequences like sunspots and wrinkles—faster aging. Mirrors were sick monsters. It would be just like them to create a product that forced a dependence upon it.

Had Jane used the cosmetics, too? Used them to hide secrets from her friends? With all these new developments, how much did Quinn truly know?

"This is going to be okay, I promise. I'd never do anything to hurt you." Jane wrung her hands and didn't instill the comfort she was trying to evoke.

Quinn gulped. None of this felt okay. "No, it won't," Quinn whispered, glancing around, trying to get her bearing.

They were in the center of a lawn with a sign that read, No shoes on the grass. Not wanting to anger the mirror minutes after entering its domain, she slid off her shoes and let the grass squish between her toes.

The garden smelled of sweet flowers and pure tranquility.

Butterflies pirouetted, and birdsong set a chipper and secure tone.

But was it a false feeling?

The hairs on Quinn's arms rose, and a regimental drum pounded in her ears. Her heart worked overtime, palpitating, and causing her breaths to grow short and tense.

This was foolish. Jane was insane. Absolutely insane. This place was a trap. Turning on her toes, Quinn frantically searched for the exit. Thankfully, a door—the one they'd entered through—hovered over the grass, waiting for her to leave. She ran toward it but halted abruptly.

A figure appeared on the path in front of her .

"Leaving already?" A sinister smirk rose on one of the most beautiful faces Quinn had ever seen. "We haven't even started yet. You don't want to ruin all the fun." His fun .

The Mirror-God raised a devilish eyebrow and crossed his muscular arms. Crow black hair shimmered in a ray of the rising sun, and his eyes swirled a liquid silver—the shade of a reflecting mirror. He wore black slacks and a white button-up shirt with the top three buttons hanging askew, exposing the top of his chest. His outfit lacked a vest, tailcoat, and cravat. It was utterly indecent for polite company.

The muscles in Quinn's back clenched, and she ground her teeth to keep herself from saying the wrong thing to the villain.

He didn't look evil, but sometimes evil came masked as pretty gentlemen.

Although he had unnatural eyes, the man appeared fully human. This wasn't so strange. The murals painted throughout the city depicted mirrors as living creatures with humanoid features. And all the ones she'd seen staring out of their glass seemed humanoid, too.

But it was still unsettling .

The mirror cocked his head, and his eyes examined her sideways, tracking from her red hair to her peacock dress and then landing on her green eyes. "Hello, Quinnevere Ashelle, a friend of Jane Whitfield-Wryte and the Daughter of Blood. I've been waiting for you."

Quinn swallowed hard, her hands growing clammy. What did that even mean? He had been waiting for her? That meant he knew she was coming, and if he knew that, what else could he know?

"I—" Quinn started but was distracted by her necklace. It buzzed. The shard of glass liquified into a flaring crimson metal that swirled to a legato rhythm. It was a ballerina twirling on attitude. As it pirouetted, it spilled out of its cage—

But as soon as it started to morph into something else, it froze, reversed, and solidified into a ruby, almost as if something had blocked its magic.

"I do not allow other magic in my domain." The mirror's voice slithered like an asp waiting to strike. He'd blocked the necklace from becoming . . . what exactly?

What the holy fuck was happening?

"Nightshade, stop scaring her." Jane folded her arms.

The god cocked his head like an eagle, amused but deadly.

Quinn's heart raged as she turned her eyes back on the male. "Is that your name?" All the Mirror-Gods in the city had titles like Beautiful Decay. But Quinn hadn't realized until now that they might have actual names, too.

The side of his lips turned up. "It's one of them." He turned back to Jane. "You will remain silent for the rest of our adventure."

It was a command, but was it magic?

Jane smirked. "As you wish, oh Terrifying One."

Nightshade glowered, clearly not amused. "Now, you." He angled his head, his gaze devouring Quinn like prey.

Snakes of shivers coiled over Quinn's arms and legs. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and glanced at the exit again. Now that she'd actually met him, she knew there was something very wrong with Nightshade—something that verged beyond sinister, and Quinn needed to get out now. She turned to do just that, but the mirror appeared in her way again.

"You've come here to avoid getting bad luck, so what do you want?" Nightshade asked.

Quinn's head felt hot and tight. She was way out of her depth. "How do you know that?"

"I am a god, little ballerina. The things I know would rattle your bones and rip apart your heart."

Okay, that was it. This was a terrible mistake, and Jane was unhinged. "I think I should leave now."

A muscle in his jaw feathered. "If you leave now, you will incur the seven years of bad luck, and you and I both know that you wouldn't make it into the ballet if that happened."

Quinn's lungs burned. She didn't want to follow in her uncle's footsteps as a medical examiner. She liked corpses because they didn't talk back, because they had no emotions, and because they were simple and scientific, but she didn't like them that much. She loved science and medicine, but her life was dance .

"Fine." Quinn gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath. "What do you offer?"

"What do you want?"

She wanted to trade for a spot in the Queen's Royalle Ballet but imagined the cost would be far too much, especially from Nightshade. She wanted to dance, but she also didn't want lifelong consequences from it, like diamond eyes or frozen hair—like the infamous Harlowe Merriwether. "Aren't you going to offer to make my dreams come true? To give me unending beauty or eyes that make everyone fall in love with me or a life filled with no pain or wealth that won't dry up or magic or something?"

A wicked sneer climbed up his face. "I could give you all those things, but why would I offer you any of that when I know you wouldn't accept it?" He cracked his neck almost as if irritated with how much of his time she was wasting. "You've come here, so what do you want?"

Quinn curled her toes in the grass, trying to ground herself, and she asked a question instead of answering his. "Is Jane truly your friend?"

"Yes."

"She pulled me in here so I wouldn't get horrible consequences."

Jane opened her mouth to respond, but Nightshade narrowed his eyes at her, and she closed her mouth.

"Interesting. That would depend on how well you can bargain." Nightshade's answer was a slither, like a snake homing in on its prey. The words were friendly enough, but the tone promised poison. "What is it you want? "

She didn't know what to say or what she desired other than to get this horrible rite over with.

"What do you want?" he asked again, spinning his words into an enchantment that latched onto Quinn's soul.

It was like he reached out and grasped at her deepest desires. "I want to have emotional expression in my dancing, but I am not willing to pay the cost and the consequences for that." She crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

Nightshade rubbed his chin in thought while glaring at her. His concentration was so fierce, like a visceral pulsating thing, that she refused to move or speak a word to interrupt it.

Eventually, he said, "Here is the only deal I will offer you. I will give you the ability to express emotion in dance. I will give you such incredible artistry that no one can look away—even better than Jane once had—if and only if you passionately kiss the prince you despise so much before the stroke of midnight."

"Nightshade, what are you doing?" Jane cut in, her eyebrows crinkling.

"Quiet, Red," the god growled.

Jane threw her hands up in mock surrender but said under her breath, "I thought you two had settled your issues."

Issues? With Emrys? Why?

"Anyway, Quinnevere"—Nightshade's voice was rough whiskey—"kiss the prince with passion, and I will give you everything you want."

"I can't kiss Emrys," Quinn gasped out.

"And yet, it is the only deal I will make with you." His grin sharpened like the edge of a broadsword. "Take the deal or receive seven years of bad luck."

"Why would you ask this of me?" Quinn shivered. "What do you get out of it?"

"Torture." A sneer twinkled in Nightshade's eyes. "I know you hate him above all others for making you look like a fool to your medical superiors. "

How the fuck did he know that? Mirrors were horribly creepy. Quinn shivered.

"I want to torture you a little bit." Nightshade smiled. "And I want a fun show for me—being trapped in this glorious cage can get rather boring."

Could mirrors see beyond their portals? That was terrifying. Perhaps they were truly gods watching over the city, ever-present, always knowing.

That was a wretched thought. Gods or devils?

"I think you may enjoy your torture, my sweet, innocent Quinnevere Ashelle."

Never. She'd never enjoy that. Kissing Emrys would be more than torture. It was embarrassment and devastation wrapped up in one little bow because the prince had never met a heart he didn't break, and Quinn refused to be just another girl on his long list of conquests. Not that she'd ever let him close enough to break her heart.

Yes, what Nightshade was asking of her was pure torture. But that was the point. Some mirrors just liked to watch the world burn. Clearly, Nightshade was one of them.

"And if I fail your task?" Quinn stuttered, her voice quivering. "What happens then?"

"If you fail, you don't reap the rewards of our deal."

"And the consequences?"

"Kiss him passionately, and I won't give you any—"

"Nope," Jane interrupted, "this is where I step in. He can't promise you that because it is not the Bargainers who determine mirror consequences."

Clearly, his command of her silence earlier was merely a suggestion.

Nightshade rounded on Jane. "For the love of all the gods. Stop giving our secrets away. The Looking Glass should know better than that."

Jane scoffed. "While he has told me that, it was your lover who told me it first. If you want your secrets kept, speak with Lowe about them."

As much as Quinn was fascinated by their interaction and its implications, there were more important things to focus on. "Who determines the consequences?"

"The magic," Jane said. "Whatever force exists beyond us, that is greater than the mirrors. The cost is upfront. It is determined during the deal by the god." She pointed with her thumb at Nightshade. "The consequences are unknown, and it is possible to get none or horrible ones."

Oh, that was fascinating and petrifying all at once. "So how do I avoid having horrible consequences or visible ones like Harlowe Merriwether?"

Harlowe Merriwether was the most famous Mirror-Blessed person in all of New Swansea—infamous for being addicted to mirror bargains and having physical and life-altering consequences. It was rumored that she even disappeared for seven minutes every hour without warning.

At the mention of Harlowe's name, Nightshade's eyes darkened, but it was Jane who cut in. "A lot of her consequences were costs that she knew about before making her deal, and she trades for powerful magic. That always carries harsher consequences." Jane touched the god's arm as if calming him. "What Nightshade is offering won't carry that kind of consequence."

All of that was a lot to take in. The entire night was too much to take in.

"Will you stop helping her now?" Nightshade pulled out of Jane's grip.

"She's family to me," Jane said. "You know better than anyone else. We always help family."

Warmth spread in Quinn's chest. Family? Was that how Jane truly saw it? Both were orphans, and to Quinn's knowledge, Jane didn't have any family left alive, while Quinn had her uncle. Although, people often confused them as sisters because they both had red hair and light-colored eyes. Jane's were a brilliant blue, and Quinn's a hazel green. But they weren't actually sisters. Yet when Quinn was younger, she had wished it. She'd wanted more than anything for the confusion to be true.

But people didn't often get what they wanted in life.

"Fine." Nightshade gritted his teeth. "Back to your deal. Do you have any questions before you accept it? So we can stop pretending? We all know you will accept the deal."

A snake coiled in Quinn's stomach. It wasn't a foregone conclusion, and she hated that he thought it was.

"I could leave and not make any deal at all."

"Then you would get the bad luck."

"I know stubbornness is a trait of redheaded ballerinas, but if we could just get this done, I have places to be."

"Stuck inside a mirror?"

"You've seen my realm." He motioned to everything around them. "Maybe I want to frolic through the fields."

Now, he was being a condescending prick like Emrys. But if he wanted to get rid of her, that was a good thing because it meant he wouldn't trap her inside his realm.

So Quinn decided to move on, let it go, and focus on the implications of the possible deal. "What if I can't kiss the prince with passion?"

"Then I assume it will be a very disappointing kiss."

Jane snorted, and both the god and Quinn flashed her a glare.

All the possible outcomes and potential issues with the bargain filtered through Quinn's head. It was torture. The cost was unimaginably cruel. But if she accepted the deal, even if she failed to kiss Emrys passionately, she wouldn't get the bad luck. If she succeeded, she would have the key to her auditions. Besides being extremely painful, it seemed like a win-win for her. So then, what was the catch? She voiced the question out loud.

"There is no catch." He ran a hand down his face as if he were exhausted by her. "You're Jane's family. I will give you a good deal. Kiss the gentleman, and you will get your artistry. Fail, and you incur whatever consequences the magic has for you."

Quinn inhaled sharply. It was foolish to trust a mirror, especially Beautiful Decay. But she wanted to trust Jane, and Jane trusted this strange Bargainer. Quinn ran logic loops in her head, tracing all the possibilities and traps in his words. But it seemed straightforward. Besides, the alternative was seven years of bad luck, which just couldn't happen.

She nodded again and said, "I accept your deal."

"Wonderful." He clapped his hands. "Oh, and remember, dearest Quinnevere. If you don't at least try to kiss Emrys, you will receive seven years of bad luck. Trust me, your life is about to fall apart, and you probably won't survive it, even with good luck."