"Guard her. Guard her," Feyre said to her reflection, shaking the mirror when the girl, Aidan's, face did not appear between the shattered fragments.
The moment she had lost the connection between her own mirror and Aidan's Feyre had winnowed onto the steps leading up to Amren's apartment.
Before she could knock, the short, dark-haired female flung the door open and looked her up and down, gesturing her into the apartment behind her. Although Amren had given up her true self to the Cauldron, Feyre had come to realize she was still one to be trifled with. She had maintained her position as Feyre and Rhysand's Second and political advisor.
"What can I do for you, High Lady?" Amren asked, taking a seat on the sleek sofa in the middle of the room. Feyre sat on a chair that was the matching set to Amren's couch.
"You said that we needed to know the name of the mirror's mate to make contact with it," Feyre said.
Amren played with the set of black pearls that adorned her neck as she replied, "Yes, I did say that."
"Well, it won't work," Feyre said, thrusting the silver mirror into Amren's hands in frustration. "The name of the other mirror is guard her or sounds something similar."
Amren ran her fingers along the engraving in the mirror's handle, "And our own mirror's name is ddistryor. I'm sure that the word that we need is in the same language as this. I have mastered more languages that you have even heard of Feyre, and still I do not recognize this one."
"You should ask Morrigan what she said before to get the mirror to work," Amren continued.
"She told us what she said," Feyre sighed. "She was saying sorry to Azriel, saying she should have been there to save him from whatever happened to him. Not that she could have."
"And there was no one on the other end when it connected?" Feyre shook her head.
"Then it had to be what Morrigan said. There is no other way that the mirror would be able to open otherwise."
A few minutes later, Amren and Feyre were sitting across the kitchen table from Morrigan, staring at her as she talked to herself in the mirror.
Rolling her eyes as she spoke the words a third time, Mor said, "Azriel. I'm so sorry. I should have been there to save you."
The three of them waited as nothing happened. Amren grunted and threw her hands up into the air.
"I don't know what else to do," Mor spat at the impatient immortal. "I'm saying the exact same thing I did at Starfall, I swear."
"Well, then it's the way you're saying it," Amren spat back.
As they bickered, Feyre wished Rhys was in Velaris, waiting for her at the townhouse. There was a fluttering in her stomach at the thought of his name. Instead, he was making his much needed appearance in the Court of Nightmares, feeling for anyone who might know how Azriel and Tamlin had ended up in the Fae kingdom of Doranelle.
"Both of you, stop," Feyre said. Her voice was quiet, but she spoke with the authority of a High Lady.
"Amren, go back to your apartment. Try and find something useful about the mirror or the language or something. Mor, you keep the mirror for tonight. You're the only one who's gotten it to work so far, so try and figure out what you did the first time."
"And where are you going, Lady?" Amren asked. Amren did not like taking orders, but she was loyal to the Night Court and the chain of command. She would do as she was told.
"I'm taking a short trip to the lovely land of Spring," Feyre said, frowning. "And before you try and argue, I am your High Lady. I do what I want. And don't go tattling to Rhys. I'll know."
Neither of them looked happy about it, but Feyre was happy to finally be doing something useful.
An hour later, Feyre was setting up a snare in grove of birch trees, a dead chicken at her feet. She felt a twang of guilt as she looked at it but continued with her work. She was just about to slink off into the shadows when a ragged voice spoke from behind her.
The Suriel said, "You do not need to trap us, Feyre Cursebreaker. We have seen the compassion in your heart and soul for a creature that many would rather kill. We know what you have done for our fallen brother, and it is our honor to aid you, though the Cauldron limits how much we may divulge."
Feyre took in the Suriel's apppearance. Nothing had changed since she had last seen one.
"You have come to learn about what is happening within your world and the next."
Feyre nodded and added, "Specifically about how to get Azriel back."
"Little one, how do you know he wants to come back?"
"Why wouldn't he want to come back to his family, his home?" Feyre asked, confused.
"Well, he has found his mate, of course. Would that not stop you from returning to your family?" the Suriel asked in return.
Feyre did not answer.
"More things are changing than you could ever realize, child. There was a prophecy long ago, written before even the High Fae roamed this world, of a young warrior, divided inside, both fire and ice, light and dark. She would not be born of this realm but would have to choose freely to enter our world and sacrifice herself to save a realm that was not her own. She is how Azriel will return."
"But what would she need to save us from. Hybern is dead. His generals are dead. There is nothing left," Feyre replied, knowing deep down that it was a lie. There was something on the island of Hybern, something evil and secretive brewing.
"What she will face will be far worse than Hybern. Already, the Ancient One stirs, growing more powerful with every breath. Can you feel her, her dark caress?" the Suriel whispered, lifting his face to the sky in jubilation.
"Who is the warrior? How can we help her if she's not in Prythian?" Feyre begged.
"Your mirrors are two sides of the same coin, are they not? One for the light and one for the dark. A savior and a destroyer. Gwaredor and Ddistroyer. Lovely words in a language far older than the Leshon Hakodesh. The mirrors prefer you speak their true names, in the language used at the time of their creation, but they accept what they are now called but only for short periods of time."
Feyre was speechless. The reason the mirrors had worked was merely by chance. With Morrigan's crying on Starfall, the mirror must have heard 'savior' instead of 'save you.' Feyre bowed her head in silent thanks to the Suriel and turned to leave.
"And the other thing on your mind, Feyre Archeron."
Feyre inhaled sharply, turning to face the grotesque figure before her.
"The Cauldron has blessed you with the High Lord's child."
As promised, here is Chapter 29. Thank you so much for reading and commenting. Please don't forget to vote if you liked this chapter! I appreciate it so much!