But, as they say, beauty is only skin deep. Thank goodness mirrors can’t see into your soul. Not this kind of mirror, anyway.
An uninvited image intrudes upon my mind. I picture my other sister. Her fluid voice and the way she seamlessly steps through a mirror as if it’s no big thing. She doesn’t see what I see. What everyone sees. She carries a beauty that can’t be created with makeup or a curling wand. Her beauty can’t be ruined by a bad hair day or a few pimples. I never got why she never got it. At first I hated her for all her sulking and clueless self-doubt. Yeah, I was jealous, so what? I even preyed upon her cluelessness. Sue me. That’s yesterday’s news. We’re past that. And now it’s too late. Now I can’t even tell my own sister I love her.
Hold the iPhone. Don’t even think of getting sentimental, Ebony. It’s not your style.
“Hey, you okay?” There goes Khloe again, noticing things that are none of her business.
“Fine.” I sniff back the liquid rimming my eyelids. Not that a few tears matter as I’m seriously lacking in the mascara department right now, but that’s beside the point. I get up from my crisscrossed position on the floor and scour the cabinets. There’s gotta be some here somewhere. “What kind of B&B doesn’t have oils for guest use?” I may not have eye makeup, but something must be done about my chapped lips.
Khloe giggles from her new perch on the closed toilet seat.
I catch her in the corner of my vision. Quirk an eyebrow.
As always, she defiantly rolls her eyes.
“Okay, what?” Placing a hand on each hip, I pivot to face her. “Just say whatever it is you’re gonna say, Khlo.”
She smooths her dark hand over even darker braids. “You know what I’m going to say, Eb.”
Now I’m rolling my eyes. “Okay, okay. I get it, runt. This isn’t exactly the Hilton.”
“Ya think?”
We both spent a good amount of time in the Third, so we understand each other in a way no one else in our posse does. I flip my wrist in a whatever-you’re-right-again sort of gesture. Then I check my complexion once more before I pocket the compact in the steel-blue, waist-length leather jacket I snagged from Charley’s trunk on The Seven Seas. The Mask may have been a pirate, but I’m not about to deny she had good taste. Too bad she ditched us to rejoin her tribe or whoever. The few times I encountered her, I sensed we could’ve run with the same crowd.
Could’ve. Could have. Back then. Not now. Not when I’ve begun to care about stuff again for the first time in ages. The acknowledgment is nauseating, to say the least. Things were way less complicated when I was in this deal for me, myself, and I.
Curse you, Eliyana Ember. This is all your fault.
Three rapid knocks sound on the door, but the intruder doesn’t wait for a response before peeking his head inside. “You two done in here yet? Everyone’s waiting on you. This isn’t a fashion show.”
My cheeks simmer. I turn toward Khloe, pretending to fuss with a frayed thread on her shirt. Tide can’t see how his hot-but-not-too-hot-casual-surfer-guy presence affects me. “Almost.” Oh my flipping no. That is not my voice coming out sounding like roadkill. I clear my throat in the subtlest way I can and try again. “Almost.” Better. Much better. “A little privacy?”
Khloe makes a face and I give her a look that says “shush.”
“Your wish is my most honored command.” I can hear the smile in Tide’s voice before the door creaks closed.
And the simmer turns to a full-on boil.
“You didn’t have to be rude to him,” Khloe says.
How else am I supposed to be? This is just me, and if Tide can’t accept me as I am—“I wasn’t rude. He’s the one entering unannounced.” I snap the thread clean off her shirt. It floats into the wastebasket.
My sister rises. She’s almost as tall as I am though we’re nearly ten years apart. “He knocked.” She plants her hands on her hips. Like big sis like little sis.
“Well . . .” Oh, why does she know just the right things to say to get me ruffled?
“He likes you.” Khloe’s all business. Trying to play matchmaker yet again when it’s the last thing I need. How can I even begin to think of being something for someone else if I have no flipping clue as to who or what I am? Am I Called, empowered by the Verity? Or am I something freakish and other, a by-product of an immortal bully? Is this how El has felt with that mark on her face her entire life? If so, this is total crud, that’s what this is. I wish El were here so I could talk to her, gain some perspective.
I clear my throat again. “We’re friends.” I’ve always handled things alone. How is this any different?
Khloe opens her mouth to speak, but I lift my hand in front of her face. “We’re. Friends.” I zip my jacket, letting each word sink in. “Tide’s a nice guy. He’s like this with everyone, not just me.” I shove a hand into each pocket of my jeans, checking to make sure every inch of my outfit is in its perfect, tucked-in place. “I’m telling you, Khlo, you’re not old enough to understand these things, so don’t even bother trying. You’re just a kid—” I bite my tongue, tasting blood. Daughter of a Troll, Ebony, why do you do this? This is too far and now Khloe is hurt. Khloe. With El gone, she’s the only person here who even gets you.
She’s past me and to the door in a heartbeat. I almost can’t stand to look her in her big brown eyes, but I do. I don’t owe anyone anything. Except Khloe. She deserves at least this much.
But the chipped shoulder I would have if the situation were reversed is nowhere in sight. Instead, my sister just flashes her big white smile and says, “We’ll see.”
Then she skips out the door.
SEVEN
Stand
He doesn’t know who I am. He can’t. Yes, he keeps staring at me. Yes, he regards me in that sinister, all-knowing, Amulet way of his. But it’s impossible for him to recognize me because he didn’t know of my existence until he found Mom last year. Until Quinn found us. Just play it cool. Don’t look guilty, because you have nothing to be guilty about.
“Not this bloody nonsense again,” Nathaniel retorts in his distinct British accent. “How many times have we told you, Crowe? The Void is not to be trifled with. It is imprisoned in a place only the Verity’s vessel knows for a purpose.” He faces Aidan. “And he’s never going to tell us where that is, isn’t that right, Henry?”
Does he want reassurance for Jasyn or for himself? My grandfather remained in hiding when Jasyn took the throne. Could his fear of the Void’s vessel have begun long before he realized just how dark Jasyn was?
Sweat beads across my scrunched forehead. Aidan is the Verity’s vessel. Here. Now. Which means Jasyn is the prison no one knows about. Oh man, oh man, oh man. I’ve never been in this type of situation. Being so totally in the loop I know even more than my grandfather. Nathaniel. The old Physic I once turned to when I knew nothing at all.