Unlike in the scene Rags had described, they weren’t alone.
Of course the Queensguard had been sent to secure the place—Inis and the others had expected as much. Except they’d anticipated a smaller contingent they could overpower, relieve of their weapons. Not this many.
Not this.
Not possible to count how many Queensguard filled the room. Light on armor, reflected hundreds of times in hundreds of panes of polished, silver-backed glass. How many Queensguard were real, and how many were mirror images? All of them raised their swords in unison. Inis yelled a wordless challenge, and Rags ducked behind the nearest high slab of white stone that was a fae bed. Somhairle braced himself, while Two, Three, and Shining Talon leaped forward at the same time.
Glass shattered. Someone screamed. Inis ducked a falling blade with instincts that weren’t hers. Two in her blood, in her head, behind her eyes.
They moved together, Two’s strength behind her, feeding her. Her palm connected with a metal breastplate, sent the Queensguard who’d attacked her sprawling. When he dropped his sword, she picked it up with little idea what to do with it, letting Two guide her. As Two’s tail swiped another Queensguard off his feet, Inis swung her stolen blade in the same motion, catching a third Queensguard in the flank. He stumbled but didn’t go down, and Inis braced herself, blocked him when he lunged again.
She was grinning, showing all her teeth.
What of Somhairle? Was that golden blur in the corner of her vision Shining Talon, racing from Queensguard to Queensguard, breaking mirrors along the way?
Tell that to superstitious fools who thought breaking a mirror heralded bad luck.
Movement by the nearest fae. Rags was trying to pull the child’s unmoving body off the white stone slab and having some difficulty.
No more taking stock. Three Queensguard rushed Inis at the same time, seeming to materialize out of nowhere—no, out of the mirrors—and Inis would have gone down if Two hadn’t been at her side.
Let me in, Two said.
Inis didn’t know what he meant. A fist caught her in the chest, slammed her against a mirror. It broke against her elbows, hurt like fire. Let you in where?
No time to explain. Have to get it done. Trust me.
A heavy weight crashed into Inis from the side. She almost thought it was another Queensguard tackling her, until the weight disappeared and warmth surrounded her, numbing her the instant she acknowledged it. When she looked down, she saw silver coating her hands, her arms, creeping across her chest to coat her entirely. She nearly dropped the stolen sword but lifted her arm to block a lunging Queensguard.
His steel glanced off her wrist.
All of a sudden, she felt like she could breathe again, even under Morien’s blindfold. Her outside finally reflected her insides. Cold. Hard. Implacable. A newfound strength flooded her. She heard Rags swear. Inis kicked the fallen Queensguard, tore off his helmet, and punched him in the face with her steel fist. She grabbed his sword next.
One blade in each hand, she snarled—or maybe it was Two, or both of them together—and leaped into the fray beside Shining Talon.
Side by side, they were silver and gold.
Inis knew there were too many Queensguard. For every one she took down, two more appeared in their place. Some had to be mere reflections. She threw one Queensguard into a mirror; it smashed like a rush of joy. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Somhairle struggling to help Rags, Rags struggling to help the fae children. Lifting and dragging them off their slabs and away, out of the direct and reflected gazes of the mirrors—to a place behind them, by the farthest wall.
Inis had to protect them. That was her role.
Four Queensguard faced her. Where were they coming from?
A stutter of fear entered her heart. She couldn’t lose here.
Shining Talon dove low, kicking a Queensguard from where he was about to strike. Inis swung both her blades, cutting down the one next to him. With Two in her veins, her muscles didn’t have to strain. He was a constant flow of strength where once she might have been weak.
She knew it couldn’t last forever.
Someone struck her between the shoulders. Two yowled and she spun, slamming her elbow into the helmet of the Queensguard who’d hit her. She left a dent in the Queensguard’s faceplate, had enough time to register the impact before Shining Talon slashed at him, knocking him down with a borrowed sword.