Chapter 8: Night of Mirrors

"Twice married," I said. "So I get two of everything now?"

"Two of what?"

"I don't know. Two pianos. Two cooks."

"One cook is plenty," he said, and kissed me again, slower.

His thumb stroked along my jaw.

Down the hall, very faintly, Kyle was still yelling at the wallpaper.

The next three days were almost normal.

Kyle came out of the linen closet at breakfast with sheet creases on his face and didn't look at me.

Two more guests moved into the nursery. Then two more.

The cook started leaving a covered plate outside the nursery door every morning.

Ambrose's head stayed on for two hours at a time now, if I was the one who put it there.

Penny said it was the most romantic thing she'd ever seen, and also medically upsetting.

Then on the evening of night seven, a new card lay on the hall table.

"Tonight is Mirror Night. Do not look into a mirror. The one who looks belongs to the house."

Under it, a second line.

"The Master keeps the ballroom until dawn."

I read it twice. Then I went to find him.

He was already standing in the ballroom doorway with his head under his arm.

His face was gray.

"I can't leave this room tonight," he said. "Not one step. It's the oldest rule in the house."

"What happens on Mirror Night?"

"Every door turns into a mirror. Every window. Every polished floor."

"And if somebody looks?"

"They go in," he said. "And they don't come out."

The clock in the hall struck eleven.

Behind him, the door to the ballroom started to swing shut on its own.

"Daisy." He grabbed my hand. "The mirrors can't take you. You're the bride."

"What about everyone else?"

The door closed between us. His fingers slid out of mine.

I stood in the hall alone.

Down the corridor, every door was going silver.

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