"What do you mean, you lost them?” Nitiri shrieked at the dark, swirling masses taking up most of the dim room.
“We thought they would be eliminated in the cave, but they escaped. We tried to track them down again, but there is something masking us from pinpointing the girl’s presence. She was the easiest to find; it will take time to track the prince.” The Demons’ glowing eyes stared without blinking. Their voices gave Nitiri cold chills down her spine.
“How did they escape in the first place?” she asked, tension in her voice.
“They were rescued by an unknown group of assailants,” Tiberius supplied, his green eyes glowing fiercely.
She clenched her fists in frustration. “Why did you not simply kill them?” she demanded, fed up with her servants.
“They had someone with them who had—” Bathen started, but Nitiri cut him off.
“Never mind. I will find them myself.”
She spun around in a huff and stormed over to her bedside table. Her room was incredibly dark, even for nightfall. The Demons absorbed all the light like black holes. Nitiri felt around for the cold metal handle of her hand mirror. She brought it up to her face, barely distinguishing her outline in the faint moonlight that seeped through the large windows. She thought for a moment and wrinkled her nose as she considered the best way to specify who she was looking for in a few lines of poetry. She hated magic that used poems, but ancient sorcerers were keen on them. Older magical heirlooms that surfaced after the end of the Great War often would take orders only in the form of rhyming poems for no reason other than the creator’s whimsy.
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“Mirror, mirror, of those who have mourned,
Show me the Princess, whom they call ‘snowborn.’”
Normally Nitiri would have to compose something longer, but her request was immediately answered. She bristled when her niece’s face swirled into focus on the glass. It was almost dawn. Elurra’s pale features stood out against the dark forest greenery behind her. Nitiri gritted her teeth and spat out,
“Mirror, mirror, do you need a cue?
Give me a wider view!”
I need a better looking glass, she thought sourly as the image zoomed out. Her bad mood turned to a black cloud of rage when she saw Terrin.
“Kill them all. Kill the prince, my niece, and everyone else who happens to get in your way, especially the dark-skinned boy with the black hair. I want him to die. Do it in whatever way you see fit and do it quickly.” They were a thorn in her side, and she didn’t want to see any of them alive ever again.
“We cannot go now, Your Majesty. The sun is rising,” Bathen hissed, earning a glare.
“We shall do as you ask with pleasure once the sun sets, My Queen,” Tiberius hastily added in a deep murmur.
She assumed he was looking forward to their deaths. She had given the two Demons permission to take a victim once a week. The two beasts could go months, possibly a year, without food, but Nitiri knew keeping the Demons happy was important. Besides, terror gave her a better grip on the land. The people feared the Kutsal Stone was in the hands of the bandits who killed their king and queen, and Nitiri used that as an excuse to have her men constantly patrolling the land. In reality, they were often carrying out different tasks she’d assigned them. She grunted in reply and looked back at the wavering image in her mirror with loathing.
“Mirror, mirror, this image offends me.
Show me no more;
Turn it black and empty.”
She smacked the looking glass down before her reflection could reappear. Despite her anger, she was rather pleased with her final poetic attempt.