Firethorn Chronicles, Tome 1: The Firethorn Crown

Chapter One

Ballgowns and mazes don’t mix.

Lily tiptoed down the center of the gravel path, pinching overgrown branches out of her way, listening for footsteps, broken twigs, whispering leaves; anything to warn of pursuit. She winced at every rock and root under her silk slippers. Her boots would have been noisier, but more practical. Too bad she hadn’t had time to change.

The junction ahead led to the exit. It wasn’t the shortest path, but it had the most escape routes. Bunching layers of peach taffeta in her hands, she stepped over a large root and edged past an alcove cut into the firethorn hedge, home to a life-sized weeping lady draped in blackberry brambles heavy with fruit.

At the midway point in the passageway, a glint caught her eye from among the leaves ahead. She crept a few more yards and saw the source, nestled deep among the branches: a mirror.

The gilt-framed intruder would have looked at home on top of her dressing table. Frowning, she glanced at the sky. Afternoon sun scrabbled through the overgrown canopy, falling at the wrong angle to hit the object. She stepped closer. Untrimmed branches surrounded the mirror, as if it had rested there for some time, but her reflection stared back, unmarred by dust or grime. She tucked a strand of shadow-dark hair behind her ear, and then gasped, holding her breath.

Leaning in close enough to feel the prickle of leaves on her cheek, she exhaled through pursed lips and stared over her reflection’s shoulder. The mirror was strange enough, but the image reflected behind her chilled her inside. A passageway, dark as midnight, stretched into the shadows, a misty circle of light shining from its depths.