Free Bound by Roses (The Bound Series Book 1) by Jonathan Lazar

depths before Marguerite. Within each of the bubble’s centers floated a transparent glass shard. The grey bubbles they were encased in evaporated away. The thick white mist clouded the air, but quickly dissipated. Absorbed by the stones, water, and moss. The shards spun around in the air before they formed a broken oval inches above the water, a bastardized Mirror. Each piece floated in minute circles, but never came into contact with the one another. Dull purple sparks repelled them should they float too close together.
    Marguerite could barely make out her reflection. It was ghostly and foreboding, hair silver, and skin whiter. She thought of herself pulled from time, locked in a prison, with only the Mirror for company. She could also see the Seven that stood directly before her, and behind the broken Mirror. The Seven that stood behind her were ghosts, nothing more to the present. They were even fainter than she. They looked of statues, living creatures frozen in stone.
    The Mirror’s frame a forgotten memory. Marguerite could almost remember the frame she saw so many years ago, through the ghosts of her past, but the images faded. For memories of her mother, never returned wonderful thoughts.
    The humming produced by the Seven ceased.
    The pool ceased churning and producing any bubbles.
    The aqua light dulled.
    “He is ready,” the Seven lowered their arms down and crossed them before broad chests.
    Marguerite cleared her throat, and coughed as she always seem to do, “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall.”
    Her words rang out. Sweetly echoed around. The water danced in time to her voice. A low rumble shook the pool. The Mirror’s shards flashed and sparked violently. They pulled close, but repelled at the same time. The individual shards of glass were each filled with a wispy white fire, which ascended the shards, and disappeared at the top of the oval. The fire acted as if it the Mirror itself had never been shattered. Marguerite took a step back, in fear of the ghostly fire before her.
    “Ah. My dear Lady Marguerite White,” a thin and pale white mask appeared. Nose long and pointed, plush bright unearthly green lips and gaze-less eyes, empty and as black as raven’s feathers. Forehead curved low, and almost invisible thin silver eyebrows. The voice that spoke was high and effeminate, “I feel that it has been far too long, since the last time you have required my sight. How may I serve you?”
    The Mirror’s face was fractured like the shards. Bits showed in different shards. Marguerite waded forward. She stared at the glowing shards. A cold heat emanated from the space in-between them. Though the wispy fire that burned behind the face gave no heat. Marguerite could not help but feel it.
    “And remember, as is the Law, placed down by my creators, the Brother’s Grimm. The Rule of Three binds me. Three questions, three answers,” Marguerite rolled her eyes, having heard the speech many times come from the Mirror.
    “A dying Wolf in Zhan’ding spoke of a Wolf Queen. Is it the Queen, Lord Red and my father imprisoned?” Marguerite wasted no time.
    “She is not,” the Mirror spoke.
    “Where is the imprisoned beast?” Marguerite demanded.
    The Mirror looked out past Marguerite, past the Seven, the stone of the tower, and even past Ashok Orai with a gaze of eternity. The Mirror was silent for several moments before he responded,
    “I see her locked in darkness unending. Bound by chains of silver, and ancient magic that pierce her flesh. She licks wounds, and contemplates freedom. Though none will come, unless the tales are unbound.”
    Marguerite sighed deeply at the news.
    “Who is the new Wolf Queen?” Marguerite looked at a large gaze-less eye in one of the shards.
    “The nameless red Wolf that orchestrated the attack and killed, Saledii Pastalia Red, is not a stranger to her people. She is a creature that can readily and willingly takes Human form, without constraint of a full moon. The daughter of