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A SHAFT OF SUNLIGHT spills across my face. I sit up, throw off the covers, and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Strangely, after the trauma I endured earlier, I experience no stiffness or pain.
I glance at the window. The sun hangs low over the sea. I slept most of the day, or maybe it was more than one day. There is no way to tell.
I stand and walk toward the tall worktable, but stop dead when I catch my reflection in a full-length mirror.
Who is this girl? I creep closer, staring into the eyes of the young woman walking toward me.
She is beautiful. Reaching the mirror, I touch my lips, now full and shaped like a perfect bow. My nose is shorter and its distinctive hump has been ironed straight. My jawline is softer, my cheekbones higher. My eyes, still hazel, are wider, and fringed with long dark lashes.
I run my hands over my body, which remains slender, but now includes sensuous curves in all the right places.
Strangely, I still see Varna Lund smiling back at me. Sten Rask kept his word. He only changed my appearance in subtle ways, yet how much difference those slight changes make! I spin, attempting to catch a vision of every angle. It’s amazing. Rask did not turn me into someone else, or some artificial doll. It’s still me, but me without flaws.
I laugh and run my fingers through my hair, which is no longer dull brown and broomstick straight. Now it’s thick and wavy and the color of polished walnut.
Examining my new face and body, I lose all track of time. As I stare into the mirror, something tugs at my thoughts. A memory—something I need to do about another mirror, something about destroying a terrible weapon.
Smash the mirror, Varna. You must smash the mirror.
Not yet. I want to enjoy the experience of being desirable. I wish to revel in a beauty even Erik Stahl would admire.
A wardrobe fills a corner of the room. One of its doors stands ajar and I spy a flash of gold silk. I skip over and throw open the carved wooden doors. There are so many beautiful robes and gowns and cloaks and shawls stuffed into the wardrobe, I can’t decide what to choose first.
In the past I never gave much thought to clothes. I just concentrated on keeping my appearance clean and neat. Now I want to try on every one of these gorgeous garments. As I pull out an armful and carry them to the bed, I notice all the colors flatter my newly heightened coloring.
Remembering Rask’s comments, I choose a forest green silk gown cut in a simple style, almost like a robe, but cinched tight at the waist. Its only trim is an intricate, twisting pattern embroidered around the square neckline—exotic birds on branches, picked out in tones of gold, green, and brown.
I slide my feet into a pair of suede slippers and run to the door, which is thankfully unlocked. I step into the hall and make my way to the drawing room.
Rask sits in the wing-backed chair, reading a book. He looks up as I enter the room, then leaps to his feet, allowing the leather-bound volume to fall, unheeded, to the floor.
“So you are awake at last. Come and let me look at you properly.”
I run to him. “I had no idea it would be like this. It’s perfect. Perfect in every way.” I complete a spin, holding out my full skirt with both hands.
“It is indeed.” Rask looks me up and down. “My sorcery has definitely not failed me.”
“Can I do magic too?” I dash to the fireplace, where the fire has died down to embers, and snap my fingers.
“Not like that.” Rask steps up behind me. Placing his arms around me, he grips my wrists. “You still need instruction. Relax and concentrate on the power within you. You will feel it. The tiniest tug at first, like the pull of a thread, then it will rise and rush through your body like a river.”
I close my eyes and allow Rask to lift my right arm as if I am his puppet. He slides his fingers from my wrist to lightly cup my hand.
“Concentrate,” he whispers in my ear. “On warmth, on fire and flame.”
It feels as if his fingers are shooting sparks into my skin. My upraised hand trembles.
Warmth. Fire. Flame.
“And there it is.” Rask drops my hand and steps back.
Flames leap up amid the ashy logs, reigniting a roaring fire.
I wheel around to face him. “I did that?”
“Yes, but that is very simple magic. There’s much you still need to learn. Much I must teach you.”
“I can work magic.” I hold out my hands, examining them with wonder. “I have such power.”
Rask smiles. “You do. Of course, you always possessed the potential. I would not have attempted to transform you otherwise. It wouldn’t have worked. It might have killed you instead.”
I turn my hands over, examining my palms. Totally unmarked, yet somehow I called forth fire. “Gerda said that’s what happened to some of the girls she encountered as wraiths. Mael Voss attempted to convert them into the Snow Queen, but they went mad, or died.”
“Not died, as you recall. It was a more horrible fate—living forever with no mind and no will of their own.”
Rask speaks these words with such violence I look up from my hands to study his face.
“That’s what Thyra Winther feared above all things.”
“As do I.” Sten Rask turns his head so I can no longer see his eyes. “Anyway, now that you have the beauty you’ve always craved, I think we should allow you to have a little fun with it.” He crosses to a small table with legs carved like a falcon’s talons.
“What do you mean?”
He picks up a thick ivory card and waves it at me. “We should take you to a ball.”
***
“THESE PEOPLE SUPPORT the emperor. So it’s best if you do not refer to him as the ‘Usurper.’” Rask leans over me to adjust the fall of my brown velvet cloak. “Also, you’re my ward, don’t forget that.”
“I remember.” I brush his hand away. “Stop. I know how to dress myself.”
“It appears not.” He slaps his leather gloves against his bare palm. “Based on the way you’ve pinned that cloak.”
I huff and stare out the window of the coach. We’re not flying this time and somehow Rask has produced a man outfitted in ebony and gold livery to drive the black horses. At least I assume it’s a man. Perhaps it is a transformed rat.
“Something amuses you?”
I shove my black net gloves against my lips to stifle my giggles.
“You’re supposed to wear those, not eat them.”
“I never wear gloves.”
“Which explains the condition of your hands when we first met. Never mind, just slip them on when we arrive.” Sten Rask looks me over. “You are quite lovely. I’m sure the young men will forgive a few peccadillos in someone so beautiful.”
“You do not?”
“My dear, I know your true nature, don’t I? And still, I enjoy your company, for reasons that escape me right now.”
“So, what am I to do about the dancing? All I know are country dances. Reels and such.”
“That’s another benefit of your new powers. Simply observe the other dancers for a few minutes and allow the knowledge to seep into you, right to the bone, and you will be able to waltz like a grand duchess.”
I stare at the manicured forest rising up on either side of the gravel road. We’ve entered the grounds of some great estate, owned by a family who support the Usurper.
No, Varna, these people would never call him that. You must say “emperor.” Remember, you are walking into the halls of the enemy. Be aware, be wary. Perhaps you can even learn something of value to share with the others ...
The others. I chew on the finger of one of my gloves. I wish Gerda could be here to celebrate me looking as beautiful as any lady in the land. I would love for her to see these fine traveling clothes, and admire the gorgeous gown resting in my trunk. I want her standing beside me when I make my entrance into the ballroom.
I press my forehead against the frame of the coach window. It’s likely I’ll never see my sister, or any of my friends, again.
“Varna, we’re almost there.” Sten Rask turns me to him, taking my face in his hands. “Do not lose sight of our mission. I have come to conduct some business—you are here to enjoy yourself and revel in the power of your new-found beauty. You may dance, flirt and collect admirers. Lead men on and break their hearts for all I care. But remember, it’s all a game.” He leans in until our foreheads are touching. “You can amuse yourself and learn how to make good use of your beauty, but do not fall in love. Never do that.”
I stay very still, clearing my head of the thoughts crowding my mind.
Rask lifts his head and stares deep into my eyes. “Be very careful. While I must associate with these people, they are not my friends. Enjoy yourself, but don’t expose our secrets. You are my ward, given into my care when your parents died unexpectedly. Stick to that story, smile, and find me if anything worries you.” His face displays a concern that looks oddly real.
God forgive me, I want him to kiss me. No, Varna, this is magic. He has spun some enchantment.
I twist the soft fabric of my cloak around my hands.
Rask releases me and sits back, calmly pulling on his gloves. He taps me on the wrist to remind me to put on mine. “We’ve arrived. Tidy your hair and straighten that cloak. It is time to dazzle them, my dear.”
