Spiders had been busy up here, she noted, and mice were likely making cozy nests inside the unfinished walls. It needed to be swept out. Traps should be set. This was good, practical storage space going to waste.
She remembered what it had been like filled with blue mist, and a cold that chilled to the bone.
Better, she reminded herself, to remember there had been victory here. Nevertheless, she walked to the window and shoved it open to let the chilly evening air chase the musty smell away.
Being up here, alone, was a major step, she decided. Not only a kind of reclamation but proof to herself that she wouldn't be blocked by fear. Next time, she promised herself, she would bring a broom, a dust cloth, and a scrub bucket. But for now she could take the time to look through what had been left behind and see what could be kept and used, and what needed to be hauled away.
There was an old birdcage that could be cleaned up and painted. She would find a use for that. And the metal pole lamp, the lopsided end table. The books were likely full of silverfish, so she made a mental note to take a look, box up whatever was too far gone, and cart it away herself to spare Dana the distress.
She found an ancient Raggedy Ann doll with a torn shoulder. Someone had loved it once, she thought. Maybe with a good wash and a few stitches someone would love it again. She tucked it in the crook of her arm as she pushed through boxes, shoved pieces of furniture out of the way.
She considered the long oval mirror with beveled edges a treasure. Yes, it needed resilvering, but it was a really nice shape. They could hang it from a ribbon in the central area or, better yet, use it in place of the medicine cabinet in the powder room on the main floor.
With the doll still resting in her arm, she tilted the mirror against the wall and stepped back to visualize.
She saw herself in the flyspecked glass, standing in the hard, unfiltered light, dust in her hair, on her cheek, with a wounded rag doll cradled in her arm.
Like the mirror, like the doll, she mused, she wasn't anything special to look at, at the moment. But potential was the important thing. She was looking a little tired around the eyes, but that was nothing a ten-minute break with cucumber eye pads wouldn't fix. She knew how to buff herself up, appearance wise. That was just routine, and a few tricks of the trade.
And she knew how to keep herself in tune inside, too. As long as she considered herself a work in progress, she wouldn't stop trying to learn, to become, to make more of herself.
She wasn't a sad Raggedy Ann who needed to be tended to. She knew, very well, how to tend to herself and those who needed her.
Kyna needed her, she thought. Kyna and her sisters needed her to find the last key to unlock their prison. She couldn't, wouldn't, give up until she'd done everything possible.
"Whatever it takes," she said aloud. "I won't walk away."
The glass misted as she
watched, a thin sparkle dancing over the pocked surface. Through it she saw herself. Then it was no longer her but a tall, slim young woman in green robes, a puppy in the crook of her arm and a sword at her side.
Fascinated, she stepped forward, reached up to touch her fingers to the mirror. And watched them slide into the glass. Shocked, she snatched them back, fisted her hand over her speeding heart.
The image in the glass remained, looking back at her. Waiting.
She wanted to bolt, could feel her legs tense for the rush to the door and away. But hadn't she just promised? Whatever it takes. Closing her eyes for a moment, she struggled to steady herself. What Malory had told her about Brad applied to just about everything there was in life, didn't it? You just did what came next.
Zoe gathered her courage, clutched the doll for comfort, and walked into the mirror.
She stood with her sisters under the bright wash of sunlight with the scent of the garden rioting in the air. Birds sang in a kind of desperate joy that lifted her heart.
In her arm, the puppy wriggled and twisted himself to lick her jaw. She set him down to romp for a bit and joined her laughter with her sisters'.
"We should teach him to dance." Venora fluttered her fingers over the strings of her harp while the puppy leaped clumsily at a passing butterfly.
"What he'll do is dig in the garden." Bending, Niniane petted the pup's head. "And be in constant trouble, just as he should. I'm so glad you found him, Kyna."
"He looked like he was waiting for me." Madly in love already, she crouched, tickling the pup's soft, fat belly. "Sitting on the path of the forest as if saying, 'It's about time you got here to take me home.'"
"Poor little thing. I wonder how he got lost."
Kyna glanced at Venora. "I don't think he was lost. I think he was found." She lifted him up, stood to turn in a circle while he yipped and wriggled with joy. "We'll take care of you, and protect you. And you'll grow big and strong."
"Then he'll protect us," Niniane said and reached out to give the puppy's tail a gentle tug.
"We have more than enough guards already." Rubbing her cheek against the pup's head, Kyna turned to look back across the garden to the two figures who embraced under the blossoms of a tree. "Rowena and Pitte are either watching us, or watching each other."
"Our father worries too much." Niniane set down her quill and lifted her face to the sky. A perfect bowl of blue. "How could we be safer than here, in the heart of the kingdom?"