Shadowfever (Fever #5)

by Karen Marie Moning

I could stay here and never have to face that my existence was empty, that emptiness was all my life had ever been about: dreams, seduction, glamour. Lies. All lies. But here I could forget. Come NOW. “Mac.” Jericho was shaking me. “Look at me.” I could see him distantly, through sparkling diamonds and ghosts of times past. And behind him, through the mirror, I could see the monstrous dark shape of the Unseelie King, as if he was casting Jericho as his shadow on the other side, on the white half of the room. I wondered if the concubine’s shadow was different, too, through the king’s Silver. Did she become like him on his half? Large and complex enough to mate with whatever the king was? Over there, in the blessed, comforting, sacred dark, what was she? What was I? “Mac, focus on me! Look at me, talk to me!” But I couldn’t look. I couldn’t focus, because whatever was beyond that mirror had been calling me all my life. I knew the Silver wouldn’t kill me. I knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” His hands tightened on my shoulders and tried to turn me away. “Walk away from it, Mac. Let it go. Some things don’t need to be known. Isn’t your life enough as it is?” I laughed. The man who always insisted I see things as they were was now urging me to hide? On the rug behind him, the concubine laughed, too. Her head arched, her chin tipped up, as if she was being kissed by an invisible lover. He had to be the king. I slid my hand down his arm, twined my fing...