We Are All Drawn to What's Broken & Beautiful

Mirror's Twin

"I told you they were all unreliable," the voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Chills rippled down his spine as his knuckles turned white around the mug handle. He knew that voice.

For every day that Alexander had been away, Magnus faded a little more. He had kept away from his own silver mirror, trusting in his heart that his lover would return.

The winter was coming to pass and spring was taking its place. Birds were returning from their migrations, filling the air with their cheerful songs as they fluttered about. His roses were already blooming, all of them as red as blood, the bushes so dense with flowers that their fragrance was almost overwhelming.

Still there was no sign of Alexander.

Magnus was standing in the middle of the rose garden, one hand curled around his magic mirror and the other around his mug of chocolate. He kept his back turned to Camille, his back ramrod straight as he listened to the petals and leaves crunching beneath her heels.

"He will come back," he muttered, even when the enchantress touched his shoulder. He kept his head down, refusing to meet her gaze. Her eyes burned into him and the heavy, sickly scent of roses reminded him of the dying rose in his study, a single petal clinging to life.

"You're out of time, Magnus," Camille's voice was as sweet as ever, her nails digging into his flesh through his shirt. He tensed when she wrapped a hand around his mirror, raising it up to his face.

Try as he might, Magnus could not look away as an image swirled to life in the silver surface.

His heart twinged with guilt when he saw Alec hunched over a young woman, his hair still dotted with white flakes. Isabelle was opening her eyes, relief filling her face when she saw her brother kneeling before her.

"I'll never leave you again," it was Alec's voice, with the same conviction that had promised him that he would come back, that he would be the one to break Magnus' curse. "No one will ever be able to take me away."

Magnus' heart shattered in that instance, as he stared at the man who had taken his love and crushed it between his fingertips. The man who had been so kind and so cruel, because he had given him a gift. He had given him hope.

The pain that flooded his chest was no ordinary pain. He did not have to see the rose beneath the bell jar to know that the last petal had fallen.

"I...I don't understand," he whispered, "he said he would return."

His knees buckled and he collapsed onto the ground, still clutching the silver mirror.

Camille was laughing, the sound ringing painfully in his ears. She was saying something, something about royalty being fickle but he would not hear it.

Alexander would come for him. He was sure.

He clutched his mirror closed, fingers curling around the silver bench close by.

"Alexander will return," he gasped, even as his vision blurred, "he will come back. He promised he would."

Camille's eyes glittered with mirth when she tilted his chin up to face her. She was mocking him, turning her head to survey the garden, empty of anyone else other than the soft chirping of returning birds.

"Then where is he?"

Magnus jerked away, swearing when the motion made his head throb.

"He will come."

"He lied, Magnus. That's what royalty does. His sister is far more important to him than you are. Why would he return for a man who is cursed to die?"