“Are you coming back?” he said, gruffly. “Why?” She couldn’t stop herself from being on the defensive. In the mirror, she saw Thorn’s reflection frowning hard enough to distort his scar. “Thanks to your ability to travel through mirrors, you could keep me informed of the situation at Clairdelune. And,” he added more quietly, taking a sudden interest in his shoes, “I think I’m starting to get used to you.” He had said this last sentence in the neutral tone of an accountant, but Ophelia started to shake. Her head was spinning. Her vision was blurred. He didn’t have the right.
