Beatrice screamed, grabbing the sword as she scrambled off of the bed and toward the door. But in the next instant, the horrible thing was gone…the mirror reflecting nothing but her jumbled bedchamber. Her heart hammered at her ribs so hard it hurt.

That’s it, I’ve got to get out of here now.

Tumbling out into the hall, Beatrice slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. Then she ran all the way down and out onto the second level of the central foyer, praying that the hours of sleepless immobility had strengthened her. And once satisfied she was far enough away from any mirrors, she summoned up her power. It blazed at her core, and she directed and unleashed it in a sudden rush before her. The colors shimmered to life and she held her breath, exhaling in a gust of relief as they coalesced into a reflective portal.

But when she stepped forward to cross through, her knee butted hard against the surface.

“Oh no. No no no no no.” Heart rate shooting back up in panic, barely able to breathe, Beatrice beat at the portal with her fists and the pommel of the sword. Pressed it with her palms. She even tried to shoulder her way through, succeeding only in bruising herself. Tears streamed down her face as she stumbled back at last.

I’m trapped. Alone.

Dropping to her knees and letting the sword fall to the ground beside her, despair overtook her. Her body was wracked by sobs as she crumpled forward, hands going up to cover her face, clutching at her hair.

There was one footstep, then two. Then the scent of steel and roses flooded her senses.

Beatrice startled and gasped as Darcy dropped to her knees before her—the knight’s gaunt, beautiful face twisted up in concern. Her gaze caught briefly on the sword upon the ground, but then her eyes fixed on Beatrice. She took her hands in both her own—one of flesh, and one of bone. The skeletal wrist it attached to was layered over Darcy’s bandaged and blunted one, strapped into place higher up her arm by bands of leather. About her chest and shoulders she wore armor Beatrice had never seen before, finished in silver and layered beneath rib bones with metal links and tiny hooks fixing them in place

“Where did the fiend go?” she demanded, drawing Beatrice gently up to her feet.

“Th—the fiend?”

“The warlock who spirited you here. Who summoned this portal.” Darcy’s fingers tightened around the grip of her own pearly sword as she drew it from a scabbard that was as new to Beatrice as the armor was.

“He…he…” Beatrice faltered, struggling to think. “He already went through. Did you not see him on the other side?”

“I did not,” replied her wife, amber eyes narrowing in thought. “But come, then, we should hasten back.”

Beatrice shook her head, hiccuping. “I cannot. The portal doesn’t work from this side for me. I tried.”

Darcy’s brow furrowed and she turned, bringing a hand up to the mirror. Her frown deepened as it met the surface and pressed against it.

“So, the beast’s imprisoned us here.”

Cursing under her breath, she sheathed her sword.

“The…the others told you about him, then?” Beatrice ventured.

“They told me everything,” said Darcy, “or at least…everything they could. If my pack withholds knowledge, I know they do so with reason.” Her gaze settled once more upon Beatrice, studying her face, expression unreadable. “But their ignorance as to how this Fox mage has managed to elude my spirits for all these years seemed most genuine.”

Then, behind her, all the colors of the portal drained away. Perhaps seeing its reflection in her eyes, the Hyena mage whirled to face it. For a few terrifying heartbeats, Beatrice feared the worst. That Darcy, like the Jaguar knight, was powerless in this world.

But she was blessedly wrong. Shadow rushed at once to the blade of bone, blazing darkly luminescent as the knight sliced through the portal. Shattering it before anything could emerge. As Darcy’s bright eyes scanned their surroundings, Beatrice wavered. She was all at once comforted, excited and terrified by Darcy’s presence. But so too was there guilt dragging at her heart…because they were both stuck now, and all because of her. Her ineptitude. Her weakness.

Tears rose to her eyes once more. Immediately, Darcy’s attention returned to her, and again she took Beatrice’s hand in the one of hers which still had warmth, and squeezed. Catching her gaze, the knight held it.

“Don’t despair, my lady.”

“But h-how can I not, madame?” hiccuped Beatrice. “We are trapped in this place. And the others…how fared they against the inquisitors, and what will they do when more of them come? And, oh spirits…” her eyes caught once more on Darcy’s skeletal hand. “How you must despise me after…after—”

“My lady, I do not,” said Darcy, voice rising in fervor. Pulling back the sleeve of her coat, she tore the much thinner fabric of the shirt she wore beneath it. Using the scrap as a handkerchief, she dabbed at Beatrice’s eyes “None of this is any fault of yours, and even were you responsible for the loss of my hand, I would fall to my knees again and thank you for it.”

Beatrice’s own hands came up to accept the bit of fabric as Darcy leaned away.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I…I don’t understand…”

“I have been freed of tainted flesh. Of a hand by which I committed sins that I will never, in all of my existence, forgive myself for. It is meager penance, but it’s a start.” Her golden eyes blazed, and Beatrice knew that she spoke with absolute sincerity. But there was a passion in her, too, which was almost disquieting.

“And…the others? The rest of our pack?”

“We defeated the inquisitors. And while we searched for you and for Gray, we made plans. We meant to set out as soon as we found you, shifted and by foot—out of sight of any watchers they may send by sky.”

“Set out to where?”

The Hyena mage smirked, gaze skirting away as she scanned the madness of their surroundings appraisingly. Then she started off down the stairs, gesturing for Beatrice to follow. Snatching up her pilfered sword, she hurried after her. At Darcy’s approach, a few shadow foxes pulled back their lips, But just as Beatrice opened her own to call out a warning, two of them ran off and disappeared from sight. The third kept its distance, wary eyes following their descent.

“One of my brother’s secret abodes,” answered Darcy, unconcerned. “His cooperation and silence shall be assured by our knowledge of those same dealings which make such houses necessary.”

“And the duchess?”

“Shall return home. As far as anyone outside of her oath-sworn circle are concerned, she went for a holiday tour of Hygard by ship. She made no mention of ever visiting Highreach specifically, and few would think she might. The enmity between the duchess and her bastard firstborn is well known.” Darcy scowled. “I imagine she only came to see if she might find in you a powerful pawn. Apparently she is already oath-sworn against betraying Charles, so we need not fear her word. Of course, she’s far too centered in the public eye to shelter any of us herself…her estate’s practically a court of its own.”

Turning, Darcy entered the kitchen and flung open the pantry door, considering its contents.

“I don’t doubt they will waste much time in their search for us, and perhaps in dealing with that warlock. We must pray they follow through with our plans nonetheless. But we do not have time to waste. In fact, my lady, if you would go fetch Gray while I see to provisions, I should be most obliged to you.”

Beatrice brought the makeshift handkerchief back up to her face, more to hide her shame than anything else. She breathed deep of its scent, a tingling sensation of the Call snaking down her spine in response. “I…I’m so sorry, Dame Stagston. I have not been able to find him anywhere, and I have searched the whole house and called out around it. I meant to start with the hedgerows once the light came, but then…then…”

Darcy ceased inspecting the hybrid pumpkin-apple in her skeletal hand and turned to regard her Beatrice more fully.

The best lie is the one closest to the truth. Which fairy tale had she learned that from? She couldn’t recall, but it seemed reasonable enough advice.

Beatrice swallowed. “That horrible thing appeared in the mirror of my bedchamber. Shaped like a man, but made of…of darkness. And with diamond teeth. It rushed out into the hall, and then there was a portal, and it was gone.”

The mage’s brows came together. “A diamondrake man? How?” The words were barely a whisper, clearly not meant for Beatrice to answer. She raised her voice and spoke again.

“He did not stay with you here, once he brought you?”

Beatrice shook her head, thinking fast.

“I do not believe he meant for me to come here at all. That woman Jaguar knight…she saw one of his portals and forced me through it with her. She thought I conjured it. That she might find the Lord High Inquisitor here, and that I could ensure her return.”

Darcy growled, and the shadows of the kitchen began to writhe, snaking out of the darkened corners to pool at her feet. “Metzger. Where is she? And her father…I presume you found the High Inquisitor?” Her eyes went to the sword clenched in Beatrice’s left hand, its tip resting on the kitchen floor.

At that, she experienced a tiny spark of satisfaction. “She is outside, madame, but there’s little left of her. The shadow foxes…they overcame her. I believe the same may be said of the Lord High Inquistor, whose remains are in the greenhouse.”

At that, Darcy’s tensed muscles eased somewhat and the shadows dispersed, but her lips turned downward in a slight frown.

“I will admit, my lady, that I do not recall much of our wedding. But it has been confirmed for me that it did indeed take place. And…” she paused, looking strangely lost for a moment. “And the effect of my time with you remains, even if all of the memories do not. You are my wife. You may call me Darcy, if you would.”

Beatrice stared at her for a moment, taken entirely off-guard.

“I would,” she replied finally. “You may use my given name as well, if it please you.”

“I think it should,” said Darcy.

Beatrice cleared her throat, breaking the weighty silence that grew between them. “If you were not speaking of the search for Gray when you said we’d no time to waste, what then could you have meant?”

Taking up a potato sack and dumping out much of its contents, the knight began to fill it with other selections from the pantry.

“In the deepest bowels of Doverwick castle, the greatest of all the crown’s palaces, there is a mirror. It hovers in midair. It never loses its color and it never vanishes. And, unlike the portals summoned here, I know that people can come back through, because I’ve seen it.”

“So…so then you’ve known about this place all along?”

Darcy scrunched her nose, peering into a jar of pickled cucumber-eggs.

“I know what the pack has told me of the memories of Gray’s crows. But though I’ve been aware of the mirror since shortly after my induction, none but the highest know much about it. Why it’s there, what it’s used for, where it leads. For the rest of us there are only whispers. Rumors. But I’ve seen enough now to understand what I need to.”

“And that is?”

“That all mirror portals lead into and out of this realm, and that locations in both realms correlate with one another such that we might travel to this world’s equivalent of Doverwick castle, and from there, cross over. And if we pass through at exactly the right time…there may be enough guards there on my side that, with their help, we might even make it out of the castle.”

Beatrice bit into her lip.

“That sounds—”

“Exceedingly difficult, an endeavor unlikely of success?”

She nodded.

“I cannot argue the truth of that. But I think it better than staying here and hoping we might coerce that devil into allowing us back through. I cannot compell such a creature, only destroy it. Besides, if there is one permanent portal in existence, perhaps there are more. We can only find out if we look. We shall sweep the area for Gray before we move on, of course. As best we can. But only after we gather supplies and find something with which to prise those things off of you.” Darcy’s eyes fixed upon the metal bands about Beatrice’s wrists and neck, eyes flashing again with that frightening passion.

“How can you be so…so clear-minded?” Beatrice wondered, eyes roving her wife’s resolute expression. “In this place, in this situation? How?”

“If you could see the landscape of my mind, my lady Beatrice, you would know that I am no stranger to chaos. But there is one thing I have been desperate for. One thing I’ve wanted since last we were together in that greenhouse,” she paused, smiling gently. “So how might I despair, when in this moment, this situation, and this place…I have everything that I’ve so longed for? When I am with you?”