The Snow Queen's Shadow (28 page)

“Oh, Danielle. You should have let them go.” Snow’s creatures moved in unison, marching toward the shore.

Danielle had always believed her ability to summon animals to be another of her mother’s gifts, but perhaps the Duchess was right. Perhaps it was merely the result of her own fairy blood. Whatever its origins, Danielle drew upon that gift now as never before.

Rats, doves, horses, and more had always answered her pleas for help. They had aided her in her chores. They had fought and died to protect her. Even the horses of the Wild Hunt had listened to her commands.

The darkling moved forward, putting itself between her and Snow’s forces. Danielle had seen the damage darklings could do, but Snow had faced them before and won. The darkling wouldn’t be enough.

She called again, forgoing words, projecting her summons as far as she could reach. Ignoring the monsters crossing the ice, the demon within those walls. Ignoring everything save her
need
.

“Are they coming?” asked Gerta.

Danielle made a face. “It’s not like the animals talk back to me.” She searched the woods for movement.

A pair of white egrets responded first, streaking overhead like angels and swooping down to stab dagger beaks into one of Snow’s monsters. Crows followed, their harsh cries filling the air. Hawks and owls burst from the trees, and then the ground itself began to vibrate underfoot.

A herd of reindeer exploded from the woods, charging past so closely Danielle could have reached out and brushed their sides. One of the largest stopped and bowed his head to Danielle. He was slightly smaller than a horse, with antlers that curved like gnarled oak. She climbed onto the reindeer. “My friends, too, please.”

Two more reindeer stopped. Gerta shook her head as she mounted the nearest. “Strangest army I’ve ever heard of.”

“Things are about to get stranger.” Talia turned to the darkling. “What are the limits of your shapechanging powers?”

The darkling spread his hands.

Talia sheathed her dagger. “I could use a better weapon.”

The darkling grew taller and thinner. Talia leaned forward, tugging the reindeer’s head to guide him, then snatching the darkling up in one mittened hand. Moments later, she held a lance of pure blackness.

“Reins would be helpful,” Gerta commented, clinging to her reindeer’s mane.

“Just keep your head down and hold on,” said Danielle. “Don’t try to fight. Stay close to Talia.”

She had gained some measure of skill on horseback, but the reindeer was a smaller animal, and the back was built differently, with a bit of a hump near the neck. Not to mention the lack of a saddle. The darkling must have used magic to smooth its gait while in this form, because now that she rode a true reindeer, it was all she could do to keep from falling off.

More animals soon joined their battle. A pack of wolves charged across the lake to her right. A lone fox darted underfoot, weaving past the reindeer. A family of bears lumbered onto the ice on her left.

“Punch through their line and make for the palace,” Talia shouted. “Danielle, try to get those wolves to guard our flanks. Once we pierce the line, have them follow us through and spread out to keep the demon’s monsters from following.”

Danielle did her best to relay the commands. Everything was happening so quickly. Snow’s creatures roared as they fought back against the birds. Animals and monsters alike struggled for footing as they clashed. The winged snake snapped an owl from the air, crushing it in its jaws. Moments later, a wolf sank its teeth into one of the snake’s wings.

“Stay low,” Talia yelled. Wasps swarmed over the palace wall, glittering orange in the sunlight. Some struck the animals, but most flew directly at Danielle and her friends.

She pressed her face close to her reindeer’s neck as the stingers ripped through her clothes to jab her skin, but they failed to pierce Veleris’ magic. She grabbed one that had become tangled in her hair. Unlike the other wasps Danielle had seen, this one had a stinger made entirely of ice, which continued to stab futilely even as it melted from the warmth of her hand.

Wolves closed in around them, forming a spearpoint. Talia thrust her black spear to either side, every hit earning howls of pain. The darkling weapon soon dripped blood that was all too human.

Gerta shrieked as a white-spined ape swiped her leg. Talia turned, but Gerta was already gesturing at her attacker. The ape’s feet slipped out from beneath it. When it fell, its head struck the ice hard enough to make Danielle wince in sympathy.

Between the wasps and the monsters, Danielle could barely even see the palace. She stayed low, wanting to urge her reindeer to greater speed, but unwilling to risk a fall. Blood and bodies made the footing more treacherous, and she could feel her reindeer struggling to maintain his balance on the ice.

So many animals lay dead or dying. Snow’s monsters, too. Monsters who had once been human. More birds swooped down, and when she looked behind, she saw other animals continuing to charge forth from the woods. But Snow had also sent reinforcements. Danielle could hear their cries closing in from either side.

The animals forced their way forward, even as the creatures tried to surround them. If they slowed, Danielle doubted they would be able to fight their way free. Wolves threw themselves at Snow’s guardians, snarling and snapping. A brown bear reared up and struck a sixlegged lizard that looked vaguely like a dragon. Talia’s spear knocked a giant porcupine aside, and then they were through.

The wolves followed, spreading out in a thin line behind Danielle and her friends. More animals joined them, a wall of claws and teeth against the frozen creatures who tried to reach them. Talia jumped from her reindeer, clutching her spear in one hand as she tossed her pack to the base of the wall. She stabbed the spear into the snow and grabbed a coil of rope. “Gerta, I need another knife. Danielle, give me a boost.”

Gerta tossed her dagger to Talia. Danielle braced herself. Talia climbed Danielle’s body as easily as a spider until she stood balanced upon Danielle’s shoulders. Danielle grimaced and did her best not to move. Her legs were weak after two days’ hard riding, but she held firm as Talia rammed the blade into the ice. She had to strike three times to get it to hold. She pulled herself up and stabbed her hunting knife into the ice with her other hand.

Danielle picked up the darkling spear and moved to join the animals. She stabbed past the line at the twisted creatures beyond, doing what she could to help and trying to ignore the cold, sickly feeling of the darkling in her hands.

“This isn’t going to be fast enough,” said Gerta. She whispered a quick spell. The next time Talia struck, her blade sank deeper into the ice, and Danielle saw steam emerge.

Danielle backed toward the wall, their defensive line shrinking into a tighter and tighter arc as one wolf after another fell to Snow’s monsters.

“I’m ready!” Talia shouted from atop the wall. One end of the rope dropped to the ice.

Danielle didn’t turn. “Gerta, get moving.”

Gerta hurried up the wall, and then Talia was yelling for Danielle.

Danielle flung the spear straight into the air. Talia snatched it and set it down beside her. Danielle hesitated only long enough to thank the animals for their help. Then, tears blurring her eyes, she grabbed the rope and climbed. She was halfway up when she spotted a white shape streaking along the top of the wall toward Talia. “To your left!”

“I see it.” Talia flung her darkling spear, catching the monster in the side. It howled and toppled away, out of sight. Talia reached down with her free hand.

Danielle climbed faster, ignoring the burning of her muscles and the cramps in her fingers until she was able to reach up and grasp Talia’s hand.

There was a short clearing on the opposite side, about ten paces between the wall and the palace itself. Gerta stood at the base of the wall below, dagger in one hand as she searched the snowy courtyard, but Danielle didn’t spot any of Snow’s monsters here save the one Talia had struck with her spear. It lay dead in the snow, the darkling standing beside it.

The palace was relatively small, perhaps half the size of Whiteshore Palace. It was a thing of spires, like three narrow mountaintops pressed together in a tight triangle. Icicles as long as spears lined every visible edge.

“How do I get down?” Danielle asked.

Talia gave her a wicked grin and pushed. Danielle bit back a shriek as the air rushed past. She had just enough time to hope the drifted snow was enough to cushion her fall, and then cold arms caught her body. The darkling set her gently upon her feet.

“She did that to me, too,” said Gerta. She had tied her scarf around the wound on her leg. “I say we feed her to the wolves.”

Danielle backed away from the darkling. “Sounds good to me.”

Talia landed on all fours in the snow. The impact looked solid enough to make Danielle wince, but Talia shook it off.

“I know this place,” Gerta whispered. “She built it from our daydreams, back when we were children. It’s been so long I’d forgotten. The palace of the Snow Queen, the true ruler of all Allesandria, who would use her magic to fix all that was wrong in the world. She’ll be in the throne room at the center.”

As would Jakob. Danielle stopped herself from calling out to her son. “Can you get us to Snow?”

Gerta limped toward the palace. Snowflakes swirled around her, and more of the ice wasps circled overhead. They merely watched, no longer trying to sting. Gerta stopped before a door of frosted ice. She held out one hand, and Talia slapped the hunting knife into it without a word. Gerta jammed the thick blade as deep as it would go.

Danielle shivered. The sun was setting, and the wind had picked up. “Whatever happens, I want you both to know how much—”

“Shut up,” said Talia. “We know.” She jabbed a finger at the darkling. “You. I need my spear back.”

“Gerta . . .”

Gerta managed a one-shouldered shrug, but her fear was easy to see. “This is what I was made for.”

“Thank you.” The words were inadequate, but they were all she had. And then a blur of white leaped from atop the palace, and there was no time for words.

CHAPTER 22

T
ALIA JUMPED BACK AS THE MONSTER dropped into the snow. The darkling hadn’t finished changing back into its spear form, so she grabbed it by one spindly arm and flung it directly into the monster’s face. The darkling clung like an insect, and the monster roared from shock and pain. Talia slammed into it from the side, trying to force it away from Gerta.

She needn’t have bothered. The darkling’s touch had done its job, and the monster soon stopped moving. Talia grimaced and looked away, trying to shut out the image of mummified flesh and dry bone.

Snow’s next attack was magical in nature. Three of the icicles overhead cracked and dropped like spears. Talia yanked Gerta back as the ice shattered on the ground, close enough that smaller shards jabbed her legs. “What other sort of protections did Snow daydream about?”

“Mostly traps that would protect us from our mother.” Gerta ran the knife around the edge of the hole she had created, widening it with every touch. “Bottomless pits. Passages that seal behind you. Things like that.”

“Is that all?” Talia grimaced.

“No.” Gerta forced a smile. “But we don’t have time to list all the ways we dreamed about stopping her.”

Talia glanced at Danielle, who appeared unfazed by the traps. She looked ready to carve her way through every wall in the palace if that was what it took. Talia hoped her determination wouldn’t get her killed.

“I’m ready.” Gerta stepped back from a hole just wide enough to squeeze through. “It probably won’t stay open for long.”

Talia retrieved her knife and pushed past. To the darkling, she snapped, “Aren’t you supposed to be a spear?”

Between one step and the next, a white-furred arm shot out and seized the darkling by the throat, dragging it inside. Talia swore and climbed after them.

The darkling was doing its best to hold off a trollshaped creature with claws of ice. Darklings were quick and agile, but the troll held it fast. One white hand crushed the darkling’s neck while the other slammed its head against the ice wall. The darkling tried to shift its form, but the troll wouldn’t let go.

Talia flung her knife into the side of the troll’s neck. When that did nothing, she reached back through the hole to take Gerta’s knife, which she used to stab the back of the troll’s leg. She ducked as it swiped at her with one hand.

That distraction was enough for the darkling to seize the troll’s other arm. Ice and fur fell away, and the flesh beneath withered. The troll roared, but the darkling clung tight. Dust fell from its fingers, and the limb dropped away. There was no blood.

The darkling sprang, one arm wrapping around the troll’s head, the other grabbing Talia’s dagger, still lodged in the troll’s neck. Talia grimaced as the darkling yanked the knife free and slashed the troll’s throat.

“Are you all right?” Danielle asked.

Talia nodded, watching the darkling as it tossed the knife to the ground and backed away. It had fought as fiercely as a wild beast, but that final blow had been artistic in its precision.

Gerta had dropped to one knee, brushing snow from the floor to reveal the frozen surface of the lake. The ice was clear as glass, showing only blackness below, and reflecting the tall, curved hallway around them. Green and blue light flickered within the walls, like slow flames trapped in the ice.

Gerta wiped away more snow. White cracks were spread through the ice in a pattern too regular to be natural. Like tiles, if every tile were a plate-sized puzzle piece, no two identical. “Something’s wrong.”

“You don’t say,” Talia muttered.

“The mirror . . . it’s tainted.” She glanced back at the wall. “When we entered the palace, we passed into a magical circle.”

That couldn’t be good. “What kind of circle?” asked Talia.

“A line of blood, traced just below the surface of the ice. I think it’s for a summoning.”

“Remember what she said back in Kanustius,” Danielle said, her voice tight. “She doesn’t mean to rule Allesandria. She means to destroy it.”

A summoning circle the size of a palace. Just like Snow’s mother had used. “Can one demon summon others?”

“I’m not sure. With Snow’s help . . .” Gerta trailed off.

“It’s a mirror.” Talia crouched beside her. “Snow could always shatter her mirrors at will. Can’t you do the same to this? Crack the circle enough to disrupt its power?”

“But not enough to drop us all into the lake, please,” Danielle added.

“Mirror, mirror, cold and bleak—” But even as Gerta spoke, frost spread over the ice. She swore and yanked her hand away. “It’s Snow’s mirror, not mine. The mirror, the traps, the entire palace is attuned to her.” She gave a weak smile. “In a way, it’s comforting. The fact that the palace rejects my control proves I was more than just a piece of my sister. That I was my own person.”

Talia’s jaw tensed at the word “was.” She straightened. “Stay behind me. There will be other traps.”

“We don’t have the time.” Gerta extended a hand to Talia. “I can get us through.”

“How?” Talia asked.

“Snow and the demon have been trying to reclaim me ever since she learned what I was. It’s time to let her.”

“No.” The word slipped out before Talia could stop it. Gerta had made her choice back in the fairy mines, but this was too soon. There had to be another way.

Gerta took her hand. “I’ll hold on as long as I can.” The tightness of Gerta’s grip and the cold sweat of her palm belied her calm tone. “Hopefully, as she starts to pull me back into herself, it will be enough to make the palace accept me. I should be able to control it for a short time, before I lose myself to her.”

Talia glanced down the hallway. “How long?”

“That’s hard to say.” Gerta managed a halfhearted smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

It was the kind of thing Snow would have said, only Snow would have hidden her fear better. Talia blinked. “Fight it.”

“Snow tried to fight the demon, too,” Gerta said, her fingers squeezing Talia’s palm. “She couldn’t—”

“Snow was alone when this thing took her. You’re not. Listen to my voice. Stay with us.”

“She’s always been stronger.” Gerta smiled, her eyes momentarily lost in memories. “I’m ready.”

You’re all I have left of her.
Talia held her tongue, knowing the words would only hurt.

Gerta began to whisper.

“What are you doing?” asked Danielle.

“Removing Veleris’ spell on myself.” She knelt and slid her fingers along one of the cracks in the ice. Blood welled from her fingertips. For an instant, Talia spotted a glint of ice in the cut, and then it was gone. Gerta’s body tightened, and she squeezed Talia’s hand hard enough to bruise. “She’s so strong.”

“So are you,” said Talia.

Gerta clung to Talia’s arm as though she would fall without support. “It’s like balancing on the edge of a cliff, trying to lean out without falling.”

“I’ve got you,” said Talia.

“So does she.” Gerta shuddered. “This way. Quickly.”

Talia helped her down the hallway into a small, circular room. Coffins of ice were laid out in a circle. Danielle rubbed her hand on the closest, clearing the frost.

“Members of the Nobles’ Circle,” said Gerta, her voice strained. “Dead. She used their blood to form the circle.”

Gerta started across the room, but bumped into one of the coffins. “You’ll need to help me, Talia. One of the mirror shards is in her eye. It blinds me. I see what she sees. I can feel her. Them. Snow and the demon both tugging me toward them.”

Danielle peered into the far hall. “It looks clear.”

“It’s not,” said Gerta. “The floor thins here so she can drop unwanted visitors into the lake. But I can get us through. The palace recognizes me now.”

Meaning Gerta was fading. Talia held her arm, helping her through the doorway. The air was colder here, making her shiver even through the heavy furs.

Gerta stumbled. “It feels like she’s trying to drown me.”

“Stay with us.” Talia began to sing an old Arathean song about a queen’s journey into the desert to rescue her lover from a deev. She kept her voice low, pitched for Gerta’s ears alone.

“I thought . . . you hated to sing.”

“I do.” Talia gave a gentle pull, guiding Gerta onward. “Does it help?”

“It’s beautiful.”

One tortured step at a time, they made their way down the hallway. Three more times Gerta stopped, and each time Talia feared they had lost her. If the demon took Gerta now, it could attack them all through her, and everything they had done would be for nothing. But each time, Gerta pushed herself onward, leading them through one trap after another until they reached the door.

It opened at Gerta’s touch, swinging inward to reveal a broad, domed room. Snowdrifts edged the floor, blending seamlessly with the walls and giving the illusion of an endless white plain.

“Welcome home, Sister.” Snow White sat upon a white throne in the center of the room. Blocks of ice formed a dais, a miniature glacier atop the frozen lake. Jakob sat to Snow’s left, shivering and playing with shards of ice. He didn’t appear to notice them.

“Jakob!” Danielle started forward.

“
Wait.”
Only the sharpness of Talia’s tone halted Danielle’s rush toward her son.

“Thank you for returning her to me,” said Snow. She wore a sleeveless white gown. Her skin was even paler than usual, and her lips had lost their color. Both of her eyes were open, but one was scarred and sallow. Even the strands of white in her hair blended almost invisibly into her surroundings, as if the palace were slowly consuming her. A crown of ice circled her brow, every spike gleaming like glass. She rose, and the edges of her gown clinked as she stepped down beside Jakob.

“Don’t touch him,” Danielle warned, short sword in hand. But it was twenty paces to Snow’s throne. The demon would strike them all down before anyone could reach her.

“What was your plan?” Snow asked. “I know you won’t kill me. Danielle clings to the hope that I might yet be saved, and Talia lacks the strength to murder the woman she loves. You’re welcome to try, of course. You wouldn’t be the first to betray me.”

There was nothing of Snow White in her voice. Her body was taut, reminding Talia of a reptile poised to strike. She frowned, and sunlight shone from her crown, piercing the darkling and pinning it to the wall. It squealed and fought, but couldn’t break free.

“What was yours?” Talia countered. “To murder the people who tried to save you? To burn your homeland and entomb its nobles the same way your mother once did to you? To loose demons upon the world and watch it fall into ruin?”

“Not to burn, but to cleanse. Oh, Talia, you don’t understand what it’s like to finally
see
. The spirits you call demons will purge the lies and the corruption from this world.”

“What of joy?” Danielle asked. “Will you purge that, too?”

Snow tapped a foot to the floor. Her reflection shivered, and for a moment Talia saw not the demon but Snow White, unscarred and trapped within the icy mirror. “Your friend’s spirit survives, you know,” she said lightly. “It was Jakob who found that lingering shred of humanity, thinking it could save him. Kill me and you kill what remains of her as well.”

Talia stepped forward. As if that were a signal, cold winds swirled to life. She tried to cling to Gerta’s hand, but the wind ripped Talia away and flung her against the wall. Ice and snow all but blinded her, turning the others to mere shadows.

“Not that I mean to give you the chance,” Snow added.

“Talia!” She could hear Gerta’s cry, but couldn’t see her. And then the wind weakened enough for Talia to push away.

Gerta clung to Danielle’s arm for support. Her eyes were squeezed shut, fists knotted.

“You’re trying to possess a demon?” There was no strain in Snow’s voice. She sounded delighted, as though a pet had just learned an unexpected trick. “Not even Snow White was bold enough to try that.”

Gerta crumpled to the ground. She turned toward Talia. “Please . . .”

“I won’t let her take you,” Talia promised. Tears froze on her cheeks.

Snow’s voice hardened. “She was mine from the moment I created her.”

Gerta’s lips moved in unison with Snow’s. Her face had gone slack. Whatever magic she had used to try to control the demon—to try to protect Talia—had merely opened her to the demon’s power.

Talia lunged to the side, stepping between Snow and the darkling. The sunlight was warm, but didn’t burn human flesh the way it did the fairy. The darkling dropped to all fours behind her. “Do it,” Talia snapped.

The darkling scrambled forward, its body smoldering from Snow’s attack. Snow’s crown flared with light, but Talia kept herself ahead of the darkling, protecting it as it crawled not toward Snow, but to Gerta. It tugged her onto her back, then pressed a single finger to Gerta’s left eye.

A scream filled the palace, shared by Snow and Gerta alike. The winds died, and the sunlight blinked away. Talia raced to Gerta. “Are you—”

Gerta rolled onto her side, clutching her ruined eye. White dust trailed from her fingers. “I can feel her pain, and her fury.”

Talia hesitated.

Gerta pushed her away. “Go, damn it!”