Through a Dark Glass. Barb Hendee

      

      Cover Copy

      On her seventeenth birthday, Megan of Chaumont discovers she’ll be sold as a bride to the brutish Volodane family—within hours. Her father grants only that she may choose which one of the ruthless, grasping lord’s three sons she weds:

      ~ Rolf, the eldest: stern, ambitious, and loyal?

      ~ Sebastian, the second son: sympathetic, sly, and rebellious?

      ~ Or Kai, the youngest: bitter, brooding, and proud?

      As shy, horrified Megan flees the welcome dinner for her in-laws-to-be, she finds an enchanted mirror that will display how her life unrolls with each man, as if she were living it out in a breath. But there is no smooth “happily ever after” in her choices.

      Deaths and honors, joys and agonies, intrigues and escapes await her in a remote, ramshackle keep, where these rough but complex men reveal one side and then another of their jagged characters—and bring forth new aspects of Megan, too. But the decisions of one teenaged marriage-pawn reverberate much further than any of them have guessed . . .

      THROUGH A DARK GLASS

      New York Times bestselling author Barb Hendee spins a tale of castles and assassins, ambition and envy, toil and desire, as one woman lives out three very different lives . . .

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      Through a Dark Glass

      Barb Hendee

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      Copyright © 2018 by Barb Hendee

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      First Electronic Edition: January 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-63573-000-5

      eISBN-10: 1-63573-000-7

      First Print Edition: January 2018

      ISBN-13: 978-1-63573-000-5

      ISBN-10: 1-63573-000-7

      Printed in the United States of America

      Prologue

      Late in my life, at a gathering of friends, I heard a story that caused me to sit down and tremble.

      It meant nothing to the others who were listening, but it meant something to me. I simply couldn’t remember what.

      The story went like this . . .

      Long ago, a vain lord enslaved a young witch so that he might force her to use her powers to keep himself handsome and youthful. His most prized possession was an ornate three-paneled mirror via which he could see himself from several angles. He loved to gaze in its panels and admire his own beauty.

      Seeking revenge on him, the young witch began secretly imbuing this mirror with power, planning to trap him in the reflection of the three panels where he would view different outcomes of his useless life over and over. He would see himself growing old and unwanted and alone.

      Though the young witch had once been kind and generous, her thirst for vengeance began to twist her nature into something else.

      Unknown to her, as she continued to cast power into the mirror, it came to gain a will and awareness of its own.

      One night, the lord caught her as she worked her magic, and he realized she was attempting to enchant his beloved mirror. In a rage, he drew a dagger and killed her. But her spirit fled into the mirror, seeking escape, and there she was once again enslaved . . . this time by the mirror itself.

      It whispered to her that it would protect her and use the power she’d given it for tasks more important than punishing a petty, vain lord. Together they would seek out those facing difficult decisions and show them outcomes to their choices.

      “Wait!” she cried, inside the mirror. “What does that mean?”

      The mirror then vanished from the lord’s room.

      Where would it appear again?

      Chapter 1

      I was trapped, and I knew it. Worse, it came as a shock on my seventeenth birthday, the same day my elder sister died.

      Daughters of the nobility are mere tools for their families, so in truth, what transpired shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, but I’d been trained and honed as a different type of tool than my sister, Helena.

      She was beautiful, tall and well figured with ivory skin, green eyes, and a mass of silken red hair. She was quick-witted and skilled in the art of conversation. When she walked into a room, all heads turned. She expected everything in life to come to her just as she wished, and as a result, it usually did. Our father had always intended to profit from her by way of a great marriage to improve our family’s fortune.

      In contrast, I was small and slight, with light brown eyes and dark blond hair. Although I was much better read than Helena, my prowess in circles of social conversation normally amounted to nodding and appearing attentive to those more proficient than myself.

      Helena was the shining star of our family.

      Yet, on my seventeenth birthday, I stood over her bed, wringing my hands as she lay dying. Her once ivory face had gone sickly white, and her green eyes were closed as she struggled to breathe, each attempt resulting in a gasp followed by a rattle.

      My mother stood beside me, looking down at the bed, her face unreadable.

      “She may yet recover,” I said by way of attempted comfort. “She has always been strong.”

      I shouldn’t have bothered.

      My mother glanced at me in contempt. Like Helena, she was tall with red hair, and she had no patience for offers of false comfort.

      Only three days ago, Helena had complained of feeling warm at our midday meal. Shortly after, she’d been helped to her bed by several of the household servants, and within hours, the fever had taken hold. In a panic, my father had called upon our physician, who had done what he could—which in my opinion hadn’t been much. The illness settled quickly into Helena’s lungs.

      Although