The Gifted Sisters And The Golden Mirror

Chapter Twenty Eight

I've heard about The Wall, how massive and indestructible it used to be when magic was woven through it. Even without magic it has stood for hundreds of years—until now.

I stare at the gaping hole, an impressive feat that was said could never happen. And my sister, Vera, is the one responsible for its destruction.

I tilt my head from side to side, trying to stretch out the soreness in my neck. My captor is relentless with his travel; we've ridden for two days non-stop, and my body is screaming in protest.

Vera has kept her distance the entire time. It is unnerving being so close, and not to be able to speak to her. I'm sure she's only following to make sure I am delivered safely to the king. I was hoping Bellek would have talked some sense into her, but with the passing of two days and her not so much as lifting a finger... she has left me on my own. Even so, my emotions are twisted, having a sister near me who massacred an entire room. It plays over and over in my mind. How do I deal with that?

I shake my head. None of it matters. What matters are the people left far behind me. My chest tightens yet again. The image of Amah lying in a pool of her own blood flashes across my mind. Without me there to heal her, she will not survive.

Anger follows but it's in vain. For the past two days I've tried to unleash the dark side of my gift. I even tried to heal my captor, just to see if my gift works at all, but nothing came of that either. I know something is wrong. He is immune somehow. But that shouldn't happen—should it?

The assassin takes off again. Dread settles over me as we enter the Eastern Kingdom. The cold air from the West falls away and is replaced by a sticky dry heat. The change is sudden, and shocking. Already sweat starts to form on my neck.

Cover from the pines helps shield us from the heat, but it's not long until we pass through that small comfort, and come face to face with mountainous terrain.

Mountains of rock circle my horizon. They are almost beautiful as they stretch high into the sky, their tops lying hidden amongst the sparse clouds. To the north, a brilliant stone arena rises up from the ground, looking like an extension of the mountains that surround it.

Tufts of grass holding desperately to life poke out from the hard ground below. The sight alone leaves me feeling parched, reminding me I've had nothing to drink for two days.

Black Ridge Castle towers above us, muting the sun and casting haunting shadows. Images of different kinds of torture fill my head, causing the beat of my heart to quicken. I pray to the Maker this place won't be the end of me. I also pray my uncle sends someone after me—and fast.

We pass through a steady flow of people carrying on in what seems to be planned urgency. They ignore us, except for two who come to fetch the horses. The giant assassin dismounts, lifts me to his shoulder and takes me with him. My wrists burn something fierce from the harsh rope he's used to tie a knot around them.

He takes my arm and guides me through a cave-like structure, then up into the castle. We pass through long corridors with vases placed neatly along the walls and lit torches between each window. The soft rugs under our feet mute our steps. It's as if the decor tries to balance out the obsidian stone that sucks out the light from everything it can.

I look over my shoulder and see Vera following behind us. The assassin jerks me forward. Anger rushes up and I grit my teeth. I can't let this place defeat me. I must stay strong.

Two large double doors come into view, manned by red-masked assassins on either side. I focus on my anger and prepare to face the king.

When the doors open, I see the king sitting upon a black, ornate throne. His robes are like dark shadows that match his castle. I had envisioned him to be a harsh looking man, and I'm surprised by blond hair framing an angelic face.