The Mirror's Gaze

  Other Books by Rae D. Magdon

  Death Wears Yellow Garters

  Amendyr Series,

  The Second Sister - Book 1

  Wolf’s Eyes - Book 2

  The Witch’s Daughter – Book 3

  And with Michelle Magly

  Dark Horizons Series

  Dark Horizons – Book 1

  Starless Nights – Book 2

  The Mirror’s Gaze

  Amendyr Series - Book 4

  By Rae D. Magdon

  ©2016 Rae D. Magdon

  ISBN: 9781942976189

  ISBN (epub): 9781942976196

  ISBN (pdf): 9781942976202

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form other than that which it was purchased and without the express permission of the author or publisher. Please note that piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s right and is illegal.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Desert Palm Press

  1961 Main Street, Suite 220

  Watsonville, California 95076

  Editor: Kellie Doherty

  Cover Design: Rachel George

  BLURB

  In the final sequel of the Amendyr series civil war has broken out in Amendyr. With undead monsters ravaging the land, an evil queen on Kalmarin’s white throne, and the kingdom’s true heir missing, Cathelin Raybrook and Ailynn Gothel must join forces to protect their homeland. They hope to gain the aid of the Liarre, a reclusive community of magical creatures, but some of their leaders are reluctant to join a war that isn’t theirs. Meanwhile, Lady Eleanor of Baxstresse thinks she’s safe across the border in Seria, but when a mysterious girl in white arrives in an abandoned carriage, she finds herself drawn into the conflict as well. Together, they must find the source of the evil queen’s power, and discover a way to destroy it before it’s too late.

  Acknowledgement

  Thanks go to my wonderful publisher, Lee, without whom this series never would have found a home. Thanks also to Kellie, my smart and supportive editor. Thanks also to Sy and Cal, for reading over sections of the manuscript and offering their valuable insights.

  Dedication

  To all the fans who have supported my dream of becoming a full-time writer. This one’s for you.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Part One - Taken from the accounts of Lady Eleanor Sandleford, Cathelin Raybrook, and Ailynn Gothel. Edited and summarized by Princess Rowena, Keeper of the Royal Library.

  Part Two - Taken from the accounts of Lady Eleanor Sandleford, Cathelin Raybrook, and Ailynn Gothel. Edited and summarized by Princess Rowena, Keeper of the Royal Library.

  Part Three - Taken from the accounts of Lady Eleanor Sandleford, Cathelin Raybrook, and Ailynn Gothel. Edited and summarized by Princess Rowena, Keeper of the Royal Library.

  About the Author

  Other Books by Rae D. Magdon

  Foreword

  Dearest Reader,

  Before I present to you the astounding events that took place in the Kingdom of Amendyr during the Great War, I must explain how this account was shaped. The words themselves are taken mostly from the second diary of Lady Eleanor Kingsclere, née Sandleford. Without her precise (although undeniably embellished) record keeping, placing everything into a well-ordered timeline would have been impossible.

  However, Lady Eleanor’s diary was not the only source used. Enclosed within its pages were letters exchanged between her and Cathelin Raybrook during the war. In addition to the diary and the letters, Lady Eleanor kept several sketches and poems, all signed “Raisa.” From these, and from a short written account authored by one Ailynn Gothel and edited by Lady Eleanor, I have drawn several of the descriptions used throughout this tale.

  And what a tale it is! Though I have devoted several years of study to the Great War, part of me still finds the story fantastical. In order to tell it properly, I have chosen to divide this manuscript into three distinct voices. During the course of my work, I found each to be equally important and could not justify elevating one narrative at the expense of the others.

  I pray you will not find this confusing. It really was the only thing to be done.

  Your servant,

  Rowena

  Princess of Seria, Keeper of the Royal Library

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Taken from the diary of Lady Eleanor Kingsclere

  A FOUL WIND FOLLOWED the team of white horses as they galloped up the drive. They stood tall, proud heads lifted in defiance as the sky shook with thunder, but I could not make out the carriage behind them. Its shape was only a grey smear, blurred by heavy sheets of rain. I pressed my face closer to the kitchen window, but it was no use. I could not see anything.

  “Well? Who is it?”

  I sighed and turned away from the window. “I don’t know, Jessith,” I said to the tortoiseshell cat beside the fire. She was stretched out on her back, all four paws in the air, soaking in every bit of warmth she could. Her eyes were closed, but I could tell she was listening intently.

  “Whoever they are, they picked an awful day to visit.”

  Jessith yawned, but made no move to get up. “And you picked an equally awful outfit to greet them in.”

  I stared down at the tan and white working dress and apron I had put on that morning. Although I was no longer a servant at Baxstresse, some habits were harder to let go of than others. “It’s practical,” I insisted, fighting a blush. I refused to let myself be embarrassed by a cat’s opinion. “No one at the manor cares what I wear. Besides, Belle likes these dresses.”

  One of Jessith’s yellow eyes cracked open. “She likes them because they’re easier to take off, but that hardly matters now. You should prepare for company.”

  I ignored the comment, knowing a reaction would only encourage her, and stole another glance through the window. The carriage had drawn closer, and I could just make out the coat of arms on its side—two plumed quills crossed in an X, with a sword pointing down between them. “It’s someone from the palace, but who? We aren’t expecting anyone from Prince Brendan’s court.” Over the past three years, since Belle and I had helped him escape Luciana’s magic spell, the dashing prince had become my fast friend. He was a frequent guest at Baxstresse, although I suspected his recent visits had more to do with my friend Sarah than me.

  Jessith abandoned her spot and climbed to her feet. Her mouth opened in a wide yawn, showing off her fangs and the pink ridges of her throat. “There’s only one way to answer that question. Go out and see what they want.”

  I wiped my hands on my apron and bent to tuck the edges of my skirt into my boots, grateful that I had chosen practicality over petticoats. Despite Jessith’s complaints, it would hold up well against the rain and mud. Once I was finished, I scooped her into my arms and headed for the kitchen door, ignoring her noisy huff of protest. “I doubt it’s Brendan. He always announces his visits. Of course, he has been stopping by more than usual lately.”

  “It’s Sarah’s fault,” Jessith sai
d flatly. Her expression remained sour, nose wrinkled and whiskers twitching, but she relaxed against my chest, only hooking her claws enough to find a grip on the front of my dress. “That fool of a prince can’t stay away from her.”

  I gave her a chastising look as we entered the front hall. “That’s unkind of you, Jessith. You didn’t call me a fool when I fell in love with Belle. How is this any different?”

  “Brendan isn’t a fool for falling in love with a servant. It’s being around Sarah that turns him into one. The two of them are insufferable. You weren’t nearly so idiotic when you chose your wife.”

  I smiled. Coming from Jessith that was almost a compliment, although I was certain I had acted every bit of the fool she had accused Brendan of being. I began to say so, but someone else caught my eye. Matthew the stablemaster was standing by the front door. His wide-brimmed hat covered his face, and his work clothes were soaked through. He nodded in greeting, and I did the same. “Hello, Matthew. I take it you saw the carriage, too?”

  “Aye, when I was out seeing to the horses. Brahms ain’t afraid of thunder, but it makes Sir Thom jumpy.” He gave me a once-over. “Are you wanting ta go out and greet our guests? That was a royal team coming up the drive.”

  “If you are, then put me down,” Jessith said. “I’m not going out in that filth.”

  “Of course. We can’t have you getting mud on your precious paws.” I set her on the floor, and she sprinted over to Matthew, weaving between his legs without actually touching his stained pants. I pretended not to notice when he reached into his pocket for a lump of sugar and tossed it to the floor. Jessith was fond of any food she wasn’t supposed to have, whether it was part of a cat’s diet or not.

  While she was distracted, I turned toward the large double doors. Matthew pulled them open, and I peered out into the rain. The carriage had come to a stop at the end of the drive and one of its doors was ajar. I waited for someone to emerge, perhaps one of Prince Brendan’s courtiers, but the person who appeared instead surprised me.

  A girl stepped out, perhaps ten years old. The rain had plastered her damp black curls to her face, and the edge of her white dress was stained with mud. Her skin was brown, much darker than most Serians or even the people of Amendyr, but her eyes were bright and wild. They fixed on me, and I knew instantly the girl was Ariada. The magic in her blood called to mine, and my skin tingled with warmth despite the cold blasts of air that whipped about my face.

  I hurried out into the storm, untying my apron. Once I met the carriage, I wrapped it around the girl’s thin shoulders to try and stop her shivering. Her dripping fingers clasped the edges of the fabric, and she swayed beside me.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, hurrying to steady her.

  The girl did not answer. She simply stared up at me in silence.

  When I noticed Matthew running out to meet us, I wrapped my arm around the girl and turned toward the team of horses. Their sides heaved, and their coats were frothy with sweat and rain.

  “Where is your driver?” I asked them, staring at the empty box. “Has something happened?”

  “We don’t have one,” one of them said, not at all surprised that I could speak their language.

  “Cassandra sent us,” said the other. “She told us to bring the girl here as fast as we could. We’ve been running for hours.”

  My eyes widened in surprise, and I clutched the child tighter. Cassandra was one of Prince Brendan’s magical advisors, along with her husband Cieran. If she had been desperate enough to send a little girl racing off through a storm without even a driver to look after her, something had to be wrong.

  “Head for the stables,” I told the horses, pointing to the other side of the manor. “Matthew will make sure you’re warm and dry in there.”

  They whickered their thanks and allowed Matthew to lead them away. As soon as they were gone, I turned my attention back to the girl. She still seemed unsteady, and her skin was growing clammier by the moment. I rushed her into the manor, shielding her from the rain as best I could. The wind buffeted us until we stepped inside, and it took most of my strength to close the heavy doors against the gale. At last, they slammed shut, and the noise faded. “Are you all right?” I asked again in a softer voice.

  The girl did not seem afraid of me. Instead, she looked curious as she studied my face. “I heard you. You spoke to the horses, and they understood.”

  I nodded. “I’ve always been able to speak with animals. I’m Ariada, like you.”

  Her eyes darted away from mine, and she hung her head. “No,” she whispered. “I’m Kira’baas. You aren’t like me.”

  The word Kira’baas sounded Amendyrri, tasting of magic, but I had never heard it before. I looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Kira’baas? What does that mean?”

  Before the girl could answer, several voices called out at once. I gazed past her to see a small crowd of people gathered on the stairwell, all looking at us with concern. Mam, Sarah, and several of the servants were there, but one figure stood out from the others, and I smiled. Seeing my wife swiftly banished the last of the cold clinging to my skin. “Belle? I thought you had fallen asleep in the library again.”

  Belle lifted the skirts of her tan and white tea gown and hurried down the stairs to meet us. Instead of returning my smile, her face read disapproval. “What on earth were you doing outside? You look half frozen.” She stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs, finally noticing I was not alone. “And who is this?”

  “I’m not sure. She arrived a few moments ago in a carriage with the royal crest. I just brought her in.”

  “Well, I s’pose the next step is to clean her up and get her warm,” said Mam. She had always acted motherly toward me, and she seemed equally concerned for our unexpected guest. “You kept a fire going in the kitchen, didn’t you, Ellie?”

  “Of course she did.” Sarah offered an arm to Mam along the way. “Good thing, too. Both of you look like drowned rats.”

  Jessith snickered from somewhere near my ankles, and the girl’s face immediately brightened upon noticing her. She reached down to pet the top of Jessith’s head, and to my surprise, Jessith allowed her touch despite the dripping water. She tilted her chin up so the girl could scratch under it, and a raspy purr started in her throat.

  “Her name is Jessith,” Belle said, stepping cautiously toward the girl. “How would you like to take her to the kitchen with you? We can get you some warm clothes.”

  The girl looked up at Belle, and then turned toward me, waiting to see what I thought. She had not appeared to be afraid of me or Jessith, but she seemed slightly mistrustful of the others as they drew closer. “That sounds like a good idea,” I told her. “The kitchen’s just down the hall.”

  After a moment of thought, the girl nodded. When Jessith started off toward the kitchen, she followed, with Mam and Sarah trailing behind. As I moved to join them, Belle fell into step beside me. She folded a protective arm around my waist and pulled me close, pressing a kiss on top of my head. “She’s Ariada, isn’t she, dear heart?”

  “Yes,” I whispered back. “I can sense it. But when I mentioned it, she used a different word: Kira’baas. Do you know what it means? Do you think she could be from Shezad?”

  Belle froze half way down the hall. The others continued walking in front of us, not noticing we had stopped. She let go of my waist and turned to face me, and the corners of her lips tugged down in a worried frown. “I don’t know about her, but the word isn’t from Shezad. It’s Amendyrri. I came across it a few times in the library when I was researching Luciana’s…” Her voice trailed off, and she shook herself, banishing old memories. “Never mind. Kira’baas means ‘Voice of the Dead’.”

  The footsteps ahead of us stopped, and I noticed the girl peering over her shoulder at me. She abandoned Jessith and began making her way back down the hall. “Are you coming?” She still clutched the apron I had given her. “I don’t want to go alone.”

  I gave Belle a look
to let her know we would finish this conversation later and went to meet the girl. She smiled when I reached her, holding out her hand. I laced my fingers through hers, casting one last glance at Belle to make sure she would follow us. She did, but a shadow remained over her face. Clearly, the word Kira’baas had frightened her.

  Once we arrived at the kitchen, Mam wasted no time making our strange guest comfortable. She took away my soaked apron and replaced it with a warm blanket, guiding the girl into a wooden chair by the fire while Sara began heating up some of the leftover soup from lunch. Belle remained by the doorway, arms folded over her chest. Her gaze never lingered in one place for too long, but it always returned to our strange visitor.

  The girl tolerated Belle’s suspicious glances, and even Mam’s motherly fussing, but her eyes found mine every few moments, seeking reassurance, and I tried to offer some comfort. I nodded Mam in Sarah’s direction and drew a second chair in front of the fire and sat down. Once they were on the other side of the kitchen, I turned to face the girl. “Can you tell me your name, and maybe where you’re from?”

  Without so many strangers hovering over her, the girl seemed to relax. She gave me a weak smile. “Neva. I’m from Amendyr.”

  “Not Shezad?”

  “No, but my mother was.” The word “was” did not escape me. I had lost my own mother, and I recognized the slight hesitation as Neva explained. However, she didn’t linger on the subject. “What’s your name?”