“I know,” he said. “I know.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight against his chest. I breathed in the scent of him: leaves and sun, wind and stars. And then he said: “I will miss you, dearest Echo, when you leave me.”
I drew back to look up into his face. “I’m not going to leave you. Not ever.”
“Oh, Echo,” he said as if his heart were breaking. “My dear Echo.” He wrapped his fingers around my chin, gently, gently.
And then he kissed me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HAL’S LIPS WERE SOFT AND WARM, a little salty and a little wild. I wanted to sink into him but he pulled away from me, his face wracked with emotion, his eyes filled with secrets I didn’t understand.
“She lies,” he said. “She always lies. Whatever she told you—don’t listen. Promise me.”
“I promise.” In that moment, I meant it.
He smoothed my cheek with his thumb. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d touch my scarred face in the real world like that.
“I miss you,” I whispered, “In that other world far away.”
He tilted his forehead against mine. “I am always there.”
“I know.” A stillness settled inside of me.
He drew back again, his fingers light on my arms. “I have to go now, Echo. I am sorry.”
I bit my lip to keep from crying, but I nodded. “Thank you for—thank you for saving me.”
“You are the one saving me.” He sighed, and turned, and vanished.
I told the library to take me home, and stepped through the mirror that wavered into existence.
I was back in the bauble room, knife-edged crystals brushing my shoulders, blood dried and sticky on the hand I was just drawing back from the mirror.
I stood there shuddering, staring at the fractures in the glass, the shredded leather frame, the barely-legible title.
The wolf had tried to destroy it. He’d obviously failed. Maybe that was the answer: destroy the mirror, destroy the queen—whoever she was—break the curse.
“She always lies,”said Hal in my head.
She’d tried to trap me. It had almost worked. Whatever hold she had over the wolf—and, I was now certain, over Hal—I was going to break it if I could.
I straightened up, ignoring the pain in my shoulders and my face and my hand. Ignoring my fear.
I could still feel Hal’s hand closing around my wrist, yanking me away from the dancers and the fire. I could still feel the echo of his lips against mine.
“House,” I commanded, “Bring me my sword.”
It appeared in midair and I caught it by the sheath before it hit the ground: the sword Hal had given me when we first started our fencing lessons. I wrapped my hand around the hilt and drew it out. Above me the wicked baubles began to hiss and spin on their silver threads, like a gust of wind had torn suddenly through the room.
I turned to the book-mirror, feeling stronger than I ever had before. I swung my sword as hard as I could and it crashed into the mirror, the reverberation shooting up though my fingers and into my skull. But it made no mark. I tightened my grip and swung again, throwing my whole body into it.
This time the impact knocked me backward, and I landed hard on my left side. I leapt up and attacked again, hacking at the mirror with everything in me. Over my head the knife-edged crystals started shrieking like children in pain. But I didn’t stop. I struck the mirror again and again, until a spider-web crack appeared in the glass. Triumph surged through me. I could do this. Iwasdoing this.
And then a blur of white crashed into me, hurtling me away from the book-mirror and onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. Blinding pain seared into my shoulder. I saw teeth and eyes and spots of red. I screamed, scrabbling desperately backward.
“Wolf! Wolf, what are you doing?”
He came toward me, his body low and tight, his ears pinned back, his mouth opened wide. There was blood on his teeth.
