The Golden Yarn (Mirrorworld 3)

Fox knew Alma didn’t need company. But the Witch could see Fox needed to be distracted from the thoughts that were keeping her awake. They went downstairs and found the taproom empty. Wenzel had gone to sleep. He rarely went to bed before daybreak. It was Chanute’s firm rule that The Ogre closed only when the last guest went home. The dark kitchen smelled of the soup Wenzel had prepared for the next day. Tobias Wenzel was the first to admit he’d been a lousy soldier, but he was a very good cook. Fox warmed the soup while Alma brewed Chanute’s tea.

“I’ve known about the mirror for a long time. Much longer than Jacob. He wasn’t the first I ever saw come out of that tower.”

The revelation came as such a surprise to Fox that she let Wenzel’s soup go cold again. She’d never asked Jacob about the mirror. He didn’t like to talk about it, maybe because it had been his secret for so long.

“I’m not talking about Jacob’s father,” Alma continued. “John lived in Schwanstein for a long time. I didn’t like him, which is why I never told Jacob about him. No. The first one came nearly half a century before him. Back then Vena was still ruled by some Ludwig or Maximilian—the one who fed his youngest daughter to a Dragon. The ruin was still the prettiest hunting castle in Austry. Half of Schwanstein was out chasing a Giant who’d abducted a baker, probably to give him to his children to play with. They liked to play with humans.”

Alma strained the tea through a sieve, which also caught a couple of cat hairs. “Erich Semmelweis. I’ll never forget that name, because it reminded me of that abducted baker. Semmelweis is, as I later found out, also the maiden name of Jacob’s mother. The Semmelweis I met must’ve been one of Jacob’s ancestors. He was as pale as a grub, and he smelled like those alchemists over in Himmelpfortgrund who’re always trying to turn their hearts into gold. Semmelweis was a big success in Vena. For a while he even tutored the Emperor’s son.”

Alma turned to Fox. “You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this in the middle of the night. Erich Semmelweis one day returned from Vena with a bride. He let it be known he was going to sail to the New World with her. The people believed him, just like they believe Jacob’s Albion story. But a year later, I saw Semmelweis and his wife come out of the tower, and shortly afterward, Semmelweis summoned me because she couldn’t sleep. Jacob does very well at covering up the strain caused by changing worlds, but even he used to get quite sick at the beginning. So be careful.”

“What happened to Semmelweis’s wife?”

Alma poured the hot tea into the mug that Chanute claimed he’d stolen from the King of Albion. “Someone stole her firstborn child. I always suspected the Stilt in the ruin. She had two more children. She brought them a couple of times to visit her parents, but eventually Semmelweis came out of that tower alone.”

A bride from Vena. She stayed in the other world. With her children. Fox’s weary mind took a while to grasp the meaning.

“You have to tell Jacob!”

Alma shook her head. “No. You can tell him I know about the mirror, but it’s best he doesn’t learn about the other things. For Jacob, everything was always about his father. Who knows. Maybe his yearning for this world has a lot more to do with his mother.”

Over

Amalie’s guards didn’t keep the mob from climbing the walls separating the palace gardens from the streets. From up there, even the stones flung by the children reached all the way to the Dark Fairy’s pavilion. That she had only to lift her hands to put the shattered windows back together just angered her attackers even more. But the Dark One enjoyed showing them how droll she thought their hatred was. If only she could’ve silenced their chants as easily. And still no word from Kami’en.

His subjects took Kami’en’s silence to mean he believed Amalie’s version of events. Excuses were easily found: He hadn’t received the Fairy’s letters, the rebels had intercepted them, his answer had been lost on the long way from Prusza to Vena. But the Fairy had given up deceiving herself. Kami’en’s soldiers were still there, but they were no longer posted only for her protection. They neither drove away the stone throwers nor did anything about the insults Amalie’s subjects hurled over the walls every day and every night.

Water Witch, Demon Fairy... Those names were not new. Only one was: Child-Murderer.

Could Kami’en really believe she’d kill his only son, after all she’d done to keep the infant alive? Her efforts to save that baby had cost her so much strength she still felt weak. And now the pain from his silence...

Just as her sisters had foretold when she’d left their island, she’d become a shadow of herself. And she would have paid even that price for Kami’en’s love, no matter how it shamed her to admit it, but maybe that’s how it always was when the end began.

Her moths swarmed around her like smoke, winged shadows of a bygone love, the only helpers she had left. No, there was one more. Splintered glass crunched under Donnersmarck’s boots as he approached her—the limping soldier who’d once served Amalie’s mother. He was an outcast, forever different from all those who were screaming out there, though he might be able to hide that fact for a while longer.

“The rebellion is spreading through the north. Nobody knows when Kami’en might return to Vena.”

The Fairy picked a piece of glass from her brown hair, which she was wearing down and loose again, like her sisters. For Kami’en she’d dressed like a human woman with her hair pinned up, had slept in their houses, and with the Man-Goyl she’d given him thousands of sons. How could he betray her so? Kami’en... Even his name tasted like poison now.

Donnersmarck listened. The screaming seemed even louder than it was yesterday. Above them another glass pane shattered. The Fairy raised a hand. She briefly imagined the glass turning into water and washing them away—all the screamers, Kami’en’s soldiers, and his doll-wife. Her rage became ever harder to control.

“I can no longer guarantee your safety.” Donnersmarck spoke without lowering his eyes. He was not afraid to look at her.

“I can look after my own safety.”

“The whole city is in turmoil. Amalie had your carriage burned. She’s spreading the word that everything you touch is cursed.”

The Doll showed an impressive talent for intrigue. And what a chance to win her subjects’ sympathy, after she’d lost their love on her wedding day. The mob had even forgotten how much they’d despised the Moonstone Prince. Now she was just the grieving mother.

“What about the baby?”

Donnersmarck shook his head. “Not a trace. I have three of my soldiers looking for him. The only ones I can still trust.”

She herself had sent dozens of her moths to search for Kami’en’s son, but so far none had returned. The Fairy looked at the broken glass around her feet. Her shattered cage. And the one who’d put her in it was far, far away. But, no, she had caged herself.

Donnersmarck was still standing there. Her knight. “What do you want to do?”

Yes, what? It was hard to let go of love. Once woven, its ribbon was hard to tear, and this one she’d woven quite firmly herself.