As he released her gaze, Adelaide blinked and looked around. To her right, on a dais she had not noticed, was a mirror as black as the Veiled Prophet's eyes, its edges jagged. Adelaide clenched her hands into fists, fighting a sudden and irrational compulsion to touch the sharp points.

At first, only Adelaide's faint reflection was visible. The longer she stared into its depths, the more the darkness took on dimension. There was a divide between skyline and sky, two different shades of black.

She glanced over her shoulder, spying the patterned wallpaper that should have been reflected. There was no part of the architecture or décor that could create such an image in the mirror.

He had not called it a mirror, she realized. No, the words he had used were "looking glass." H...

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