While the Regent's Council bickered about what to do about the city that had fallen out of the sky, Rowena took ill, and none of the Kingdom's healers could do much to stem the advance of whatever illness had befallen the Princess. There is a long stretch of days' impressions left blank. Others are filled sporadically by terse updates from Leansethar. From several such brief reports, I was able to cobble together something of what the events might have been like. The Reader will, I hope, excuse my embellishment. -- MM



Lea gritted her teeth, flexing her fingers. Her palms were damp, and she wiped them, again, on her gown. She reached again for the heavy cloth draped over the two-span-high block of stone Wynne had somehow managed to move from the base of the spire to the topmost tower room in the castle.

“Why are you shaking?” she asked of her hand. Of course, it didn’t answer her. She willed it to stillness, then snatched the heavy wine-colored drape, pulling it aside with a sharp tug. She stood, facing a highly-polished plane of stone just taller than her, staring her reflection in the eyes.

“Not you,” she said. “I want to see the other one. The twin of my twin.”

Her reflection continued to stare, blinking as she did, shifting from foot to foot with the same impatient annoyance.

“I will hurl this hunk of stone from the balcony,” Lea warned.

Her reflection’s spine straightened slightly, smoky green eyes widening. Then it grinned, and stuck out its tongue. It stamped its foot, as Lea did, and made the same jabbing pointing motion.

“Go and fetch your sister. If that’s even what she is. I must speak with her.”

The half-sidhe girl’s reflection brought its hands to its mouth, eyes widening again. Then lowered its hands, leaning forward to peer intently at Lea. It brought a finger to its cheek, cocked its head.

“I am not crying!” Lea said, wiping at a tear that was threatening to slip. She took a deep breath. “Please, will you fetch the other one?”

Lea’s reflection stood straighter after a brief moment’s pause, fingers curling amidst the smoky golden folds of its gown and bobbed a curtsey before backing away, and fading into the inky depths of the stone’s surface.

She’d thought them a glamour of her sister’s making, at first. That, or some sort of spirits within the rock. Spirits, yes, Rowena had explained, but not of stone, but more closely related to air.

Lea had to physically restrain her sister from reaching for her books. Always nose-deep in her books. And when Wynne ran out of books, she read those of Jallaipiere. And Robert the Bald. And they got upset when she penned in corrections.

Beings of air, that Lea could wrap her mind around. Not trapped in stone, but on the other side of the reflection. What was on the other side of that reflection, but more stone? Lea shook her head. Best not to think about it. The details of ‘focal depth’ and ‘clarity of after-image’ made Lea’s head ache. Wynne had page after page of hastily scribbled notes. Diagrams, with tables of measurement after measurement. They appeared differently, apparently, in water, glass, or polished stone, and not at all in refined metals. Something about the lessening of the inherent Chaos that came with the smelting process. At that, Lea wrinkled her nose. Men and their metals. It was probably just that that had made Wynne sick.

As her thoughts turned to her sister, Lea turned to look at the block of stone. The surface of the polished plane seemed to ripple, but that could have very well been due to the candle’s light. A stiff breeze was blowing in from the bay. She could see the candle’s flame reflected back, its colors muted by the stone’s darker coloring. But she herself cast no reflection. A shiver skittered up her spine, nestling into a tingling at the back of her neck that had nothing to do with the night’s cold breeze. It wasn’t natural. Even glamoured within a veiling of folded light, neither she nor her sister could avoid casting reflections in the handful of looking-glasses throughout the castle.