Miras - Nora Roberts -

Caleb let out a slow breath. Then he took the locket from her hands, closed it, and pressed it into her palm. “Then let’s go find her,” he said. “Together.”

Mira’s throat went tight. “You believe me?” Miras - Nora Roberts

The first time it happened, she was seven. She’d toddled into her grandmother’s dusty attic, drawn by the scent of lavender and old paper. A full-length mirror stood in the corner, its silver backing tarnished into swirling constellations. When she looked into it, her own reflection smiled back. But behind that reflection, like a ghost in a photograph, stood a boy in a blue coat. He was crying. And Mira felt the cold knot of his fear settle in her own belly. Caleb let out a slow breath