Free empress of storms by nicole m cameron Page B

mage arrives.”
    He hesitated. The scratching increased, whispered accusations digging runnels into her control. “Go! Please!”
    Muttering a curse, Bardahlson stomped to the door. With only herself to protect, Danaë was able to pull her shields in, reinforcing them. The whispers died to a muted buzzing.
    With one part of her mind maintaining the shields, she could study the construction of the mirror. It was as well wrought as the other furniture in the king’s chambers, but didn’t quite match the style. The mirror frame was made of mahogany, darker than the stained oak of the armoires and dressing tables, and bore an elaborate carving pattern that appeared to be more geometric than the leaves and vines of the queen’s armoire.
    A gift, perhaps, or a much later addition. Must ask Mohrs where it came from.
    A shocking thrust stabbed into the center of her shield and she gasped in pain. The demons had decided to test her defenses. Danaë thickened her barriers, wondering where Flavia and the Aqua mage were. With her adept’s band still on her wrist, she couldn’t call upon enough power to break this spell. If they didn’t come soon…
    She shied away from that thought. If I throw the cloth back over the mirror, that should confuse them long enough for the mage to get here.
    She bent down to grab for one of the cloths when an agonized voice shouted, “Danaë!”
    She glanced back to see a frantic Matthias restrained at the door by Bardahlson. The buzzing swelled and burst into a screaming chorus, defeating her shields.
    Terrified, Danaë turned back to the mirror. Its surface was no longer a silvered reflection of the room. Instead it churned with blackened shapes, hoof and horn and rolling eyes, and things her mind refused to recognize. They seethed together in a horrifying mass, hungry for the three souls in the room.
    The demons pressed harder against the glass, their buzzing now audible to all. To Danaë’s horror she heard them whisper You failed your queen, Matthias. She died because of you. Your heir knew it and left you because of it. Because of you, your country will fall to ruin.
    Behind her, Matthias groaned.
    “Majesty, no!” Bardahlson bellowed.
    “Commander, keep him out!” Danaë shouted. Steeling herself, she stepped in front of the elongated reflection, blocking the demons’ view. Power gathered along her skin like drops of water on a pane of glass, coating her in her elemental force. She stretched mental limbs, the good pain of tendon and sinew being put to their proper use again.
    “You shall not have him,” she said, settling herself. “He is mine.”
    The roiling mass in the mirror focused on her. Mage. It was hissed with hatred and a hungry longing. And not. It does not matter. We shall have you both.
    The icy stinging against her shields sharpened, turning into barbed hooks as they hunted for a way inside. Flashes of pain, both emotional and physical, lashed at her and she flinched under the barrage. All the times she made a fool of herself, large and small. All the times her heart had been broken, the thousands of disappointments and hurts that made up every life. The deaths of her parents, and her guilt over them.
    She pushed back against the eager little splinters digging at her. “By water were thou summoned,” she called, reaching out for power and channeling it into her words. The adept’s band on her wrist flared to life, burning her skin as it blocked some of that power. She grimaced at the pain but continued. “By water were thou invited. By water were thou given access. That access is now rescinded. Hear my command and be gone.”
    The churning in the mirror sped up, amorphous shapes sliding over one another in their eagerness to reach the glass. They were insanity made physical, pain and terror given form and hungry intent. No, mage. You have no power over us. We shall come through, and we shall feast.
     “Your access is rescinded,” she shouted, pouring more and more