Mirror, Mirror

2.01 Runaway

It's funny how hard I've worked to get where I am now, only to find out I'm going to die.

❖

The King's eyes found Starla's, and his joyous expression melted away like snowflakes swallowed by dark water. They locked eyes for what felt like an eternity. The entrance was dead silent. The guards had seen Starla too.

For possibly the first time in Starla's life, she was speechless. Not for long though.

"What do you mean the Ice Princess has been found," she hissed. The storm had quieted as suddenly as it had started, and her voice carried through the air, ragged like broken glass.

"Starla, we'll talk about this," the King said, stepping toward her. "We'll figure this out. I know this seems bad, but—"

"This doesn't make any sense," Starla said, her mind whirling. "If this is about my magic coming in late, I know I can figure it out, I promise—"

"I'm so sorry, Starla, but you're not the Ice Princess," the King said in an utterly exhausted voice. "Someone else is, and we finally found her." He gestured toward the woman who was standing stiffly beside him, eyes lowered. "I'm sorry."

"I am the Ice Princess," Starla said, her voice growing frantic, "and I command that this imposter be thrown in the dungeon at once for trying to impersonate me. And... I command everyone that assisted in this lunacy be locked up as well!" The guards exchanged uncertain looks, but no one moved. The mysterious woman continued staring at the ground, a small flurry of snowflakes flitting around her nervously.

"Starla," the King said gently, reaching for her.

"No," Starla said, jerking away from him. "No! I don't accept this! I'm the Ice Princess, and— I'm the Ice Princess! Don't touch me." The feral part of Starla, the bottomless well of rage that she kept so meticulously hidden beneath her icy facade, burst forth. She batted away guards as they reached for her. Everyone became the enemy. She hit, and she kicked.

Then, she pulled a knife, and everyone gasped.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" she snarled, brandishing the blade as the guards backed away from her. Everyone knew exactly what she could do with this thing. The guards reached for their swords, looking to the King for guidance. The King gave a quick shake of his head, and the guards stopped, but their hands lingered over their hilts. Starla growled in frustration. She wanted to hurt someone, but she and the King both knew she would only attack in self-defense. She would never strike first. Starla suddenly felt dizzyingly trapped.

So, she did the one thing she could think of. She ran.

She ran past the wild woman with dark hair, whom guards stepped around protectively. In the second that Starla passed her, she felt undeniable cold energy radiating from her. Time slowed as they locked eyes. Brown eyes met Starla's own steel gray. Then, time caught up again and she was taking off into the snowy night.

She half expected someone—anyone to chase her. But the guards that the King came with stayed with him, and the other guards she passed at various entry ways were trained to keep people out, not stop people from leaving.

She ran down the entrance stairs. She ran into the gardens, through the palace, through the front entrance and reached the gates. She didn't wait for someone to open the gates. She scrambled up and over it, her winter coat almost snagging in the process. She landed gracefully on the other side, taking care not to twist her ankle.

She kept running. She thought she heard someone call her name, but she didn't look back. Her hair had fallen loose at some point, and it now streamed behind her in a white mass.

Maybe if she kept running, she wouldn't cry. Or maybe the truth wouldn't catch up to her. Her throat burned, almost as much as her skin from the cold, and she couldn't tell if it was from running or from the emotion threatening to claw its way out of her chest.

She ran through the near empty streets. People just starting their day shouted at her, "Watch where you're going!" She didn't care.

She ran and ran and ran until she reached the icy waterfall at the west edge of the city. She collapsed at the edge of a cliff near it, ankles throbbing from running in her snow boots. She heaved for breath, and it came dangerously close to sobbing. She refused to cry. She refused to.

Panicked, she scooped up snow and pressed it against her face, the way she was taught, to force herself calm. It wasn't working.

"I won't cry, I won't cry," she muttered.

She didn't.

Instead, she screamed, letting the crash of white water drown out her voice.