Feyre didn't know what had happened. One moment she was tucking a random strand of hair behind her ear, looking into the small silver mirror and in the next moment, she was no longer looking at herself.
Through the cracks in the mirror she could see a room that she did not recognize from any court. The crown moldings and the tapestry that she could just make out weren't of anything she had ever seen before. Feyre held completely still, barely breathing. Amren had said that the mirrors could be used to communicate, and Mor had actually gotten the mirror to work on Starfall.
Amren had studied the Book of Breathings day and night for weeks, pouring over every page, cracking every code, and the only mention of them described using the names of the mirrors to call on their mates, whatever that meant.
The sound of shuffling feet sounded through the mirror's bond.
Knowing she was about to miss her chance, Feyre finally spoke, "Hello?"
There was more shuffling, but the sounds were farther off, and then a high-pitched voice said, "Who are you?"
Something hitched in Feyre's heart, she knew she had to do something.
"Please don't run. We need your help," she said. "Please"
The shuffling stopped, and Feyre continued, "My name is Feyre Archeron, and I need your help."
There were no sounds for a few minutes, and a sadness gripped Feyre's heart tightly. Deep down, she knew that this mirror would lead her and her friends back to Azriel.
"Please," Feyre whispered once more before placing the mirror on the table before her.
But this time there was an answer to her plea.
A hesitant feminine voice said, "Hello."
Feyre's hand shot for the mirror, and there she was. A young girl, probably in her late teens, staring back at her through the mirror. She had white-blonde hair and blue eyes that reminded Feyre very much of the High Lord of Winter. Her face was broken apart by the shards of mirror, but Feyre could tell she was beautiful yet conflicted.
"Hello," she said again, more quietly.
Breathlessly, Feyre answered, "Hello."
"My name is Aidan Meara Ashyrver Havilliard."
"Feyre Archeron. I would shake your hand, but the mirror and all," Feyre's uneasiness translated through with humor.
The girl smiled widely, and Feyre continued, "Where are you?"
"Well, I'm in the Fae kingdom of Doranelle at the moment, but I'm from the continent of Erilea," Aidan answered, somewhat uncomfortably.
"I've never heard of Doranelle or Erilea. Who is your High Lord?" Feyre asked, scrunching her nose.
"Doranelle doesn't have a High Lord, other than that grumpy blond male we picked up out of the woods. It's ruled by Queen Aelin Ashrvyer Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn. And Erilea is ruled by several different kings and queens," the girl answered, but Feyre was no longer listening.
Grump blond male. Grumpy blond male High Lord. Tamlin. Tamlin and Azriel. Azriel.
"I'm sorry, Aidan," she interrupeted. "Did you say you picked up a blond male in the woods?"
Aidan nodded, slightly confused about her question.
Feyre burst out, "Did he have another male with him? One with dark hair and wings!"
The girl went quiet and looked away from the mirror for a time. Feyre saw something in her eyes that wasn't there before as she wrung her hands.
Aidan asked quietly, "You mean Azriel, don't you?"
The sadness in the girl's voice turned Feyre's excitement into quiet panic. Was he dead? Wounded?
The girl nodded and continued, "Azriel is here somewhere. So is Tamlin. You're from Prythian, aren't you?"
Feyre nodded, speechless. Weeks. It had been weeks without any news of Azriel or Tamlin. Weeks of worry and fear and guilt at putting them in danger, and here she was, this young girl telling her that they were both alive and in the Fae kingdom of Doranelle.
"Would you like to speak to him?" Aidan asked through the broken mirror. Feyre nodded again.
"Okay, just give me a few minutes. This palace is very large, and I don't know where he is."
"Thank you so much, Aidan," Feyre said and noticed that the girl's surroundings were changing.
Feyre only caught short glimpses of the palace that Aidan was living in. She could hear the girl's soft footfalls on the floor and could tell that it was night, strangely opposite of Prythian's day. Off in the distance through the mirror, Feyre could hear water running and every now and then, she saw a glimpse of the sky through the open windows.
Finally, she heard the sounds of a piano echoing through the seemingly empty halls, but instead of getting louder as they approached, the sound grew fainter and fainter.
Panicking as she realized the connection was about to break, Feyre shouted, "Aidan! The name! What's the name of your mirror!"
And just as the mirror once again returned to her own reflection, Feyre thought she heard the words guard her whispered down the mirror's bond.
Aidan rubbed the word inscribed onto the mirror's handle and whispered, "Gwaredor" as her own blue eyes once again stared back at her.
She stood there in the hallway stunned. She had just talked to someone from different realm. Through a mirror. How was that even possible? She wondered if she was dreaming.
The notes of the piano shook her out of her stupor. Thinking it was Aelin and needing to tell her aunt about what had just happened, Aidan pushed into the room where the music came from.
It was not Aelin who sat in front of the beautifully crafted instrument. Azriel's fingers danced over the keys in a slow melody, and Aidan was mesmerized. Her feet moved by themselves as they took her to sit on the bench beside his massive figure.
He didn't look up at her as he continued to play, but one of his wings came down to wrap around her shoulders, and she leaned into him slightly. The melody was sad and happy all at once. Aidan could hear Azriel's life story mixed into it, and when the song finally ended, she thought her heart was going to burst.
When the song was done, he moved his wing away and closed his eyes.
Hoarsely, Aidan said, "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."
A small smile played across the Illyrian's lips as he said, "Thank you. Do you know how to play?"
Aidan laughed and shook her head, she had learned a little before she had become sick, but just like dance, she'd given up on it as the sickness progressed.
Azriel gazed into her eyes intently and asked, "Would you like to learn?"
She nodded excitedly. The two of them sat in front of the piano, him teaching her the basics, her dutifully following his instructions, until the sun came up the next morning. Aidan thoroughly forgot about the mirror and Feyre until she caught Azriel watching the moon finally set in morning sky.
"Azriel," Aidan said cautiously. The male turned and smiled at her.
"Yes?"
"Is Feyre your mate?"
Immediately after she said it, different conflicted emotions played across the male's face. Some she recognized. Hurt. Excitement. Love. And others, she was at a loss for.
Finally, he said hoarsely, his face slightly pained, "Feyre isn't my mate."
Aidan let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, "Oh. Okay."
"How do you know about Feyre, Aidan?" Azriel continued. She picked up the mirror she had sat on the floor when she sat on the piano bench and offered it to him, explaining what it did.
"I'm so sorry, Azriel. I should have walked more quickly. I was on my way to find you when the connection broke. I'm so sorry," Aidan finished, looking down at her hands.
He didn't say anything but gripped one of her hands in both of his and watched the sunrise over the horizon.
Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait for this chapter! I just wanted to thank you all for reading and apologize for how long it took to post this. I'll probably post another chapter later tonight to make up for it!