The passage behind the bone crown breathed harder after Mara spoke.
Every person in the archive noticed. The lamps dimmed, one by one, until the room seemed lit almost entirely by the mirror and the silver ash burning in Delara’s bowl. The warning on the wall glistened wetly, as if the carved letters had begun bleeding from within the stone.
BRING THE QUEEN BELOW BEFORE THE TEETH REMEMBER HER NAME.
Sera kept her eyes on Mara. Looking away felt dangerous now, not because the woman in the mirror might vanish, but because she might remain. Because some part of Sera wanted to step closer, press her hand onto the glass, and feel, just once, that the fire had not taken everything.
That desire frightened her.
Aurelian had offered power through the crown.
The mirror offered a mother’s face.
