Instead of shattering into a multitude of pieces as you expect, the mirror falls away from its frame, falls in two exact slices.
You lean forward. It feels like the right thing to do, as if there is a doorway where once were panes of glass, an entranceway appropriate to Alice in Wonderland, locating in secrecy and the back wall of the stables. Anticipation swells in your sternum and your gullet; even swallowing a thousand times does nothing to soothe the resistance you experience in every limb.
Nope. Actually, no doorway. Your head flumps against someone’s chest.
Broad shoulders, abdominal muscles that clench on instinct, a coat that sweeps the backs of knees…
You glance up, hoping he’s not as offended as you would be, having just been head-butted in the stomach by some crazy person. Instead, however, the prince’s expression mimics a decidedly mutual stance, like that of a Ken doll or something. Or a soldier.
No, you say to yourself as you straighten up, he would never trick me. After all, I could’ve walked away. Bye bye, prince, no smashy smashy. You offer him a wan smile, and hope it’s enough.
In fact, the prince is still navigating his way out of the mirror frame. Whilst it’s still hanging against the stable wall, the glass has split and fallen away from it. Yet, somehow, a thin line still decorates the wall. You frown, bite your lip in thought.
Okay, so that’s a thing. Back to the prince. He’s glancing back at the mirror—where the top-half shard hangs limply.
It swings in the breeze from the garden, but doesn’t topple. In fact, the entire half-pane of the mirror changes, as if it is a child forcing themselves away from a swing. It ripples, trembles, almost pulls away.
“What the—?” you exclaim.
A person. A prince.
Another one stretches his limbs, and forces his way out of the lower shaft of mirror-glance.
Identical in height, they brush themselves off and look at you.