Carnades’s elegantly long-fingered hands were extended toward the mirror before him, his posture one of extreme concentration on his work. I muffled a snort. Carnades was looking at the mirror, but his concentration was more than likely aimed at how to screw us over, either before, during, or after we stepped through his mirror into a cave outside of Regor.

“Carnades can’t tap his magic while wearing those manacles, and he needs his magic to get us through the mirror,” I told Piaras. I shrugged. “Or obliterate us all, jump through the mirror, and run like hell.” My tone was joking, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard tried it.

“I think those gentlemen will have something to say about that,” said an amused voice from behind us. “As will I.”

As Guardian commander and paladin, Mychael Eiliesor was as ready as he could be to step through that mirror and into Regor. His usual armor was sleek, formfitting dark steel. What he wore now was still sleek, but matte black, and definitely not Guardian-issue. The two of us were going to stand out enough by being elves; Mychael didn’t want to announce that he was a Guardian, too. Of course, our goal was not to be seen at all. I didn’t let my mind dwell on how unlikely that was to go as planned.

Instead I let my mind dwell on, and my eyes enjoy, the scenery that was Mychael.

He must have felt me watching him.

Mychael looked down at me, his eyes darkening, his smile holding a hint of danger—the fun kind. “We don’t have time for that,” he teased.

“Time for what?” I asked, all innocence.

“Everything you’re thinking.”