Mother made me stay in the study until I had eaten every crumb Azalea had brought me and had drunk the last drop of my tea. I excused myself to my room then, claiming that I was exhausted and in need of rest. She walks me all the way back and tries to dissuade me along the way.

"It's not too late to talk to your father again," she says once we arrive at my door and my hand settles against the knob. "You don't have to do this."

"Would you have me sleep in a different room?" I ask, pinning her with a glare. Her nagging has run me quite ragged, and I'm ready for a moment alone. "The mirror will follow me. That's how it came to be mine. Father is right; this is something I must do." I heft the little chess box and swing open the door.

Mother catches my wrist. "Kyren," she whispers. "I love you. Don't be rash. You know spirits are not to be trusted."

I wrinkle my nose. "If you love me, you have a funny way of showing it. Why don't you try trusting me first?"

Hurt flits across her expression. If she has more to say, I don't give her a chance. I slip free of her grasp and shut the door before shuffling to my bed. I fall onto it, face in the blankets, and let out a deep sigh as I slide off and onto my knees. Huddled on the floor beside my bed, I skim my fingers over the smooth wood of the chess set.

The ring on my thumb gleams, and a face appears with it—a distorted version of my own that slowly melts into Arcene's. Her tiny reflection smiles. I startle, and the heavy box drops onto my toes. Hissing through my teeth, I bring my injured foot in and press my forehead to my knee. First, my side. Now, my foot. If I'm not careful, I'll break myself in no time.

I see you've found a game, Arcene's rich voice whispers like the wind, brushing past my ear. The ring shimmers again, guiding my gaze up. She stands in the mirror, hands folded neatly in front of her. Her white dress is crisp and clean. Nothing like my dirty, unkempt appearance that I see the hazy outline of in the glass.

"I gave it a lot of thought."

Her silver gaze slides to the door. "You have a difficult family. Your mother especially."

"They did raise a concerning point." I shift so that my legs are crossed and place the chess box in my lap, leaning against it with my elbows. My side aches again. "How long was I in the mirror with you?"

"Until the game concluded. If you wish to blame me for your wasting away, it isn't the fault of our matching game. You were already like that. Don't you remember?"

My lips pinch in a frown. I stare into the mirror. How many times have I done that? And the mirror stares into me. How long had I done that? How many times had I left my room looking sick and awful? Ever since coming here, he's... different. I didn't feel different, but I certainly looked different. I was a shell of Kyren. I wasn't sure how much longer I would be Kyren at all.

Sometimes I fear that if I cannot drive out Arcene, I will be silver when I look at myself. Not just my eyes. I'll be covered entirely, and all I will do is reflect someone else. My silvering will be so flawless that Kyren will be lost.

But it will never come to that because I will win my three games.

Perhaps then I will find merit in becoming Arcene's sigil bearer.

When I look at her face, taking in her smile, the otherworldly glint in her eyes, I can't suppress the fear that runs through me. I imagine becoming her sigil bearer, cutting her mark into my flesh, and being bound to her forever. She would haunt me in new ways. I would never rest again.

As if she can sense my unease, her countenance softens. "Our game will be better if you are rested beforehand. Sleep now. When you wake, we will play."

I scrutinize her, but she disappears before I can argue, leaving behind only myself in the mirror. Even the ring, which once hummed with power against my finger, now sits still. Confused and exhausted, I climb into my bed, but I barely have time to ponder her request before my head hits the pillow and sleep claims me.

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