Taya and Marcus seem to be subtly sizing each other up. Taya and Marcus have history. When she and Nahteran were little kids and their Solarian parents were killed, Marcus and my mom intervened to keep them from the soul trade. They split up the twins to avoid attention. Nahteran came to us, and Taya went into foster care.
I wonder if Taya ever resented Mom and Marcus for separating her from her Terran, making her anonymous and alone. She probably ended up better off, seeing as how Nahteran spent his youth in service to the Silver Prince. But still. I know better than anyone that when it comes to family, logic doesn’t always guide your feelings.
Nahteran interrupts my thoughts by taking something out of his bag. He unwraps a dark cloth from around it. It’s a small, round silver mirror in an onyx casing.
Graylin gasps. “A scrying mirror.” He glances at Marcus. “That’s Turalian magic.”
I notice Brekken’s eyes dart from where he stands at the door to Nahteran, full of hostility.
“Yes.” Nahteran nods, his mouth twisted with distaste as he places the mirror face up on the table. “The soul in here has been trapped for a very long time.”
I chew my lip, remembering that Tural is the same Realm where the Heiress’s truth serum came from, a Realm to which the door was closed mysteriously sometime in the eighteenth century. Two hundred years ago. So this mirror must have been created at least that long ago. I had no idea the black market ran back that far. Every time I think I’ve learned the full horror of the soul-silver trade, I learn something that carves deeper. It reminds me that even though we got the armor away from Winterkill, we have a long road ahead of us tracking down the enchanted objects as far as we can reach, and saving the souls inside where we can.
“The Silver Prince has the counterpart to this,” Nahteran says, gesturing to the mirror. “When he chooses to, he can show me what he’s seeing at that moment.” Nahteran’s gaze flickers from Marcus to me. “And this morning … it showed me her.”
I notice he doesn’t call her Mom this time.
“Is Sylvia all right?” Marcus asks quietly. “How is it that she is in Oasis?”
Nahteran looks down. He looks ashamed. “The Silver Prince has phoenix flame,” he says. “Phoenix flame that I brought him from Fiordenkill. Not enough to create a stable doorway, like the armor can, but enough for one person to slip through from time to time.” He swallows. “Think of phoenix flame as a sharp edge, something that can cut through the veil separating the worlds. The armor—think of that as a knife. It’s concentrated phoenix flame, strong enough to cut a hole in the cloth. But if you only have a little, you can use it like a needle. In and out again.”
This information fills me with horror, but if Marcus has a similar reaction, he doesn’t show it. His Innkeeper poker face is in full effect.
“But Sylvia is all right?” he asks again.
“She seemed to be.” Nahteran swallowed. “But then … he showed me something else in the mirror. A note. I wrote it down.”
He pulls a tattered, folded piece of notebook paper from his pocket and flattens it next to the mirror. On the top half is a paragraph of writing in an unfamiliar, hieroglyphic-like language. Below that, though, Nahteran’s translated:
Your adoptive mother Sylvia Morrow is in my possession. Bring me the phoenix flame armor at once, or her life is forfeit. You have three days to make your way to Oasis and present the armor to me.
The Silver Prince’s demand makes my blood feel cold and sluggish in my veins. It’s Tuesday. That gives us until Friday—to do what, I don’t know.
“How did you unlock the armor?” I ask. “That key you used, the one shaped like a star …”
“I stole the key from Cadius long enough to replicate it,” he says. “The Silver Prince was fine with Winterkill holding on to the armor for now and being the face of the soul trade. But if it ever looked like the operation was at risk—for instance, if someone tried to steal it—I was supposed to steal the armor and bring it to him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to get Taya?” I ask him. I’m aware these probably aren’t the most important questions we need to be asking, but I need to know, for me.