The Snow Queen's Shadow (31 page)

Talia raised her bottle, drinking deeply and concentrating only on the smooth, smoky taste of the wine. She returned the bottle to the table and used her thumbnail to pick at a bit of wax that clung to the side of the mouth. She had spent far more time with Snow than either of them, but a part of her wanted to keep those memories, to protect them and lock them away.

Talia glanced at Gerta’s eye patch. Talia had lost so much, but Gerta . . . she had never even known her sister. Not really.

Talia stared at her reflection in the glass. “Snow once made it rain urine in Prince Armand’s bedroom.”

Both Danielle and Gerta gaped. Gerta’s eye was wide, and Danielle’s mouth opened and shut several times before she finally asked, “How did this come about?”

Talia shrugged one shoulder. “It was two months after I arrived in Lorindar. I don’t know what Armand said, but Snow took it personally. Beatrice realized something was wrong when Snow kept sneaking off to get more to drink.”

“More to . . . ah,” Gerta said, nodding. “Sympathetic magic. She would have needed to cast that spell from a privy. How long did she manage to keep it going?”

“More than an hour.” Talia took another drink, remembering Beatrice’s expression as she ordered Snow to clean up the mess, all the while fighting to keep from laughing. “The smell lingered for a month.”

“I’ll talk to Armand tonight,” Danielle said, smiling. “I have to know what he said to earn such retribution.”

“The best part came later.” Talia pushed her chair back, staring at the window. “Beatrice demanded to know what good could come of such pranks. Snow looked her in the eye and said, ‘I wanted the prince to know what it felt like to be a peon.’ ”

There was a pause, and then the groans came in unison. Danielle grabbed a piece of bread from the platter and threw it at Talia. “That’s terrible!”

Talia caught the bread and took a bite. “I told Beatrice that whatever punishment she assigned, it should be doubled for that pun.”

Her throat was tight. Even that single bite of bread hurt to swallow. She washed it down with more wine as Danielle started talking about a time Snow had flirted her way onto a ship suspected to be carrying smuggled silks. Talia had been along for that mission, and remembered Snow’s unabashed enjoyment.

That
was who Snow had been. That was who Talia wanted to remember. Even now, memories of Snow bleeding onto the ice threatened to suffocate her. She pushed them back, clinging to the laughter. The joy in Snow’s eyes.

Danielle was watching her as she talked. Talia scowled. “This
was
your idea, wasn’t it?”

Danielle shrugged. “Gerta suggested the wine. I merely gave her my blessing to drag you here by whatever means necessary. After two hours with Trittibar and Febblekeck, I needed the break.”

Talia wadded a bit of bread into a ball and flicked it across the table, bouncing it off the center of Danielle’s forehead. Danielle stuck out her tongue. Gerta simply laughed.

Danielle grabbed an apple from the platter. “Tell her how Snow and Beatrice found you.”

Talia groaned. “It’s embarrassing.”

Danielle grinned. “I know.”

Talia threw more bread, but she told Gerta how she had hidden away in a ship, hoping to slip unnoticed into Lorindar. How Beatrice and Snow had discovered her . . . and how Snow had used magic to knock her senseless.

At some point during the evening, servants quietly carried in a dinner of roast pork and mushrooms, and a pot of chilled strawberry soup. Talia hadn’t had much of an appetite since returning to Lorindar, but tonight she found herself devouring the meal.

Many of the stories she shared made her smile, remembering arguments and antics she hadn’t thought about for years. Others brought tears. It was hours after sunset when Danielle finally stood to excuse herself. Her face was red, her hair loose and disheveled. She hugged Talia from behind. “Make sure Gerta doesn’t drink too much.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Talia.

“Thank you.” Danielle kissed her on the cheek, then moved to embrace Gerta as well.

Once she had gone, Talia turned to Gerta. “You owe me a door.”

“Your door is fine. Mostly.” Gerta stifled a yawn.

Talia stood. “I can clean up here, if you need to sleep.”

“Sit down.” Gerta smiled. “We’ve almost an entire bottle left, and I haven’t even told you about the time Snow snuck out to hunt a unicorn.”

“A unicorn?” Talia raised her eyebrows. “How did she plan to hold one?”

“I don’t know that you could call it a ‘plan,’ really . . .”

Talia sank back into her chair to watch Gerta talk. In her mind, she heard Snow teasing her, asking again why she hadn’t yet kissed Gerta.

Hush
, Talia said silently. There would be time to sort such things out later. For now, this was what she needed. A friend who could help Talia to remember and celebrate Snow’s life. It didn’t change the pain in Talia’s chest whenever she thought of her death, but it provided a buffer, something to help her through that pain.

The sun had risen when Talia finally escorted Gerta back to her room, one hand on her elbow to keep her steady. Gerta stopped in the doorway, scowling at Talia with mock anger. “Have you made your choice yet?”

Talia blinked. “My choice?”

“Whether or not you’re going to leave.” Gerta kept her voice steady, but Talia could see the way her face tightened as she braced herself.

Oh. Talia stepped back. “Someone has to keep an eye on you and Danielle. Snow would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”

Relief suffused Gerta’s face. She jumped forward, throwing her arms around Talia’s neck and kissing her cheek. “Good.”

She slipped into her room and shut her door, leaving Talia alone in the hallway. Talia touched her cheek with her fingertips. With her other hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled a single sharpened steel snowflake from its flat leather sheath. She turned it until she could see her reflection.

“Yes,” she said softly, remembering her final exchange with Snow. “I’ve made my choice.”

CHAPTER 25

S
IX MONTHS FROM THE DAY DANIELLE brought Jakob home, she strode through the courtyard toward the chapel. Talia and Gerta were already waiting outside the door. Talia was armed, a curved sword on one hip, her zaraq whip on the other. Heaven knew what else was tucked away beneath her red cape.

Danielle wore only her glass sword and the dagger Talia had given her years ago.

“You think those will be necessary?” Gerta asked.

“Always,” Talia said before Danielle could respond.

The others waited inside. Father Isaac stood before the altar, looking troubled. Trittibar sat beside Armand, who rose to greet Danielle with a quick kiss.

“Jakob?” she asked.

“In his room. Isaac has warded it to the best of his ability. He’s as safe there as he is anywhere in Lorindar.”

“Thank you.” Armand’s words weren’t as reassuring as she might have hoped. “I’m sorry.”

He waved the apology away. He had been angry when he first heard of Danielle’s bargain, and angrier still when he learned of the Duchess’ warning from years before, which Danielle had kept from him. They had fought three times, each worse than the last. Looking back, Danielle realized now how much of that anger had come from grief and fear.

Today she fought to keep that fear under control. If this didn’t work—She kissed him, perhaps a bit harder than was considered proper, but Danielle didn’t particularly care. She held him close, allowing herself another moment of comfort before turning to Father Isaac to ask, “The chapel is prepared?”

“I’ve opened the wards to allow you to speak with the Duchess,” Isaac said. “If things go wrong, I’ll do my best to protect you all, but I can make no promises.”

“I understand.” Danielle drew a deep breath. “I’ve already made my promise.”

“Good luck,” said Armand.

Danielle walked to the front of the church, rested a hand on her sword, and spoke the Duchess’ name three times.

The wooden floor warped and split, boards appearing to fall into endless shadow. The Duchess appeared soon after. “Greetings, Your Majesty. My congratulations on your coronation.”

Danielle gave a slight bow. Theodore had stepped down four months after the death of his wife. He remained in the palace, but now spent his time advising his son and spoiling his grandson. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“To King Armand as well,” the Duchess added. “Given your new responsibilities, I’m flattered you remembered your obligation to a lowly fairy such as myself.”

How could she forget, when she had thought about her oath every day since making it? “What was your plan for Jakob? To enchant him as you once did Armand? Or to force him to swear loyalty to you, to enslave him as you did the fairies of Speas Elan?”

“It was your stepsisters who attempted to steal your husband,” the Duchess corrected. “As for my plans, I’m afraid they’re none of your concern. Unless you’d care to bargain for that knowledge?” When Danielle said nothing, she laughed softly. “Once Jakob passes through this portal, he will be safe. Safer than he would be anywhere else in this world. You have my word. Six months from today he will return to you unharmed.”

Six months . . .
that
was the loophole Trittibar had discovered. So long as only six months passed in the mortal world, the Duchess would have kept her part of the bargain. Danielle knew the stories of mortals who passed into a fairy hill and were lost in their realm. They could wander for years and return to find only a single day had passed. To manipulate time was difficult, but within the Duchess’ power. Jakob would return in half a year’s time, but he might have aged years. And after so long in the Duchess’ care, he would have little or no memory of his human life.

“I remember our terms.” Danielle folded her arms. “You’ve expressed so much interest in my son. I wanted you to be among the first to hear the news.”

“What news?” Wariness sharpened her question.

“Yesterday evening, in this church, my son Jakob was wed to Princess Rose Gertrude Curtana of Allesandria.”

Gerta stepped forward and raised her hand, flashing a gold wedding band where all could see.

“An . . . interesting match,” said the Duchess. “Though his father was equally daring in his choice of bride. Had I known, I would have sent the boy a gift.”

“Man, not boy.” Danielle glanced at Armand, who nodded. “Under the laws of Lorindar, once married, my son is officially a man. As our bargain was only until Jakob came of age, that bargain is now ended. Lorindar thanks you for your aid.”

The chill that followed was so palpable Danielle expected to see frost rising from the hole. She and Armand had spent many long hours discussing this move with Febblekeck and Trittibar. Both agreed with this interpretation of fairy and human law, but there was no way to guess how the Duchess would react. Danielle glanced at Talia, who slipped her hands into her sleeves. If things went badly, silver-bladed knives would be flying into the hole before anyone else could blink.

The Duchess simply reached out, fingers spread as if searching for something unseen. According to Trittibar, had they been within the bounds of Fairytown, the Duchess would have sensed the instant the bargain was fulfilled. But Jakob had been wed in human lands, shielded by Father Isaac’s magic.

The Duchess tilted her head in salute. “Well done, Queen Danielle. Perhaps your fairy blood is stronger than I realized.”

“Perhaps,” Danielle said evenly.

“Be wary. One day Jakob will leave the safety of your palace, and who knows what he might encounter. Your stories tell of those lured by the beauty of fairy magic, men who abandon the colorless mundanity of your world to join ours.”

“Is that a threat?” Armand asked softly.

“Not at all, King Armand. Merely a warning. You yourself have known our hospitality. If you could not resist, what chance will he have?” She paused briefly before adding, “I could teach him to protect himself . . .”

Gerta stepped to the edge of the hole. “I’m more than capable of protecting my husband.”

The Duchess laughed. “Child, you flatter yourself if you think you’ve the means to keep him from my reach. Your power is but a shadow of Snow White’s.”

Gerta matched her smile. She reached into the pocket of her gown and produced a silk-wrapped bundle. She carefully unwrapped the silk to reveal a rose of mirrored glass. The petals were thin as foil, just beginning to open. Every thorn was sharp enough to draw blood. Colored light from the windows of the chapel flashed over the rose’s surface. “Not a shadow. A reflection.”

“You sheltered my stepsisters when they kidnapped my husband,” Danielle said. “Your darklings tried to help them steal my child. You aided Arathea against us, resulting in the death of my stepsister.”

“My darkling saved your lives in Allesandria,” the Duchess countered.

“And we are grateful for its help and sacrifice.” She took the rose from Gerta and held it lightly in her hands. The glass was warm to the touch. “Just as we are grateful to Speas Elan for their aid. But you have never answered for your crimes against Lorindar, and I will not allow you to threaten my family again.”

The Duchess had opened this portal expecting to receive Prince Jakob. When Danielle dropped the rose into the hole, it passed from the chapel into the Duchess’ realm. She reacted at once, clapping her hands loudly enough to make Danielle flinch. The rose shattered.

“That was a mistake,” Gerta whispered.

Light poured from the broken glass, bathing the Duchess in orange and red. “What is this?”

“A sunrise, Your Grace,” said Danielle. “Captured within the mirror by Gerta’s magic, and released by your own hand.”

The Duchess froze.

“Six hundred twenty-four mortal years ago, the rulers of Fairytown sentenced you to death for your crimes.” Trittibar spoke more formally than Danielle had ever heard. “That sentence has never been lifted, though the king promised to postpone your death until the day you witnessed one final sunrise as a free woman. That oath is now fulfilled and witnessed.”

The Duchess’ fury burned away any trace of humanity in her face. Her white hair swirled as though in a maelstrom. Smoke and flame danced over her skin. The floor shifted, as though the entire chapel would be sucked through.The Duchess reached up,fingers curled—

The hole in the floor vanished. Father Isaac kissed the crucifix on his necklace. “I take it your conversation was ended?”

Danielle stepped back and grabbed Armand’s arm for support. He appeared almost as shaken as she felt. His face was pale, and she could feel his pulse pounding even through his sleeve.

“I’ve already sent orders to increase the guards,” Talia said. “Gerta and Isaac should strengthen the wards around the palace as well.”

“Prudent precautions,” Trittibar agreed. “But I suspect the Duchess will have more pressing concerns than vengeance. The Lord and Lady of Fairytown agree on few things, but the Duchess tricked and humiliated them both. I’ve no doubt they sensed the termination of that centuries-old bargain.” He bowed to Danielle and Armand. “Fairytown will be in your debt.”

“As they will be in yours,” Danielle said, smiling. Whether that debt would be enough to earn Trittibar his former place as ambassador, she couldn’t say, but she intended to push Fairytown to do so. It was just one of many topics she planned to discuss, along with revisiting Malindar’s Treaty and sending Jakob to visit the fairy courts to learn their ways when he was older . . . and the Duchess was no longer a threat.

She watched Trittibar depart, then turned to Father Isaac. “Now remind me, please. What are the formalities for annulling a marriage?”

Palace business kept Danielle occupied for the rest of the day. It was well after dark before she was able to slip away to help her husband herd Jakob into bed. Nicolette had gotten him ready, but ever since his return from Allesandria, he had insisted on seeing his mother and father before settling down to sleep. It was a demand Danielle was happy to oblige, especially on this night.

Once Jakob was finally tucked away, she slipped quietly into the hall with Armand.

He offered an arm. “How goes your day, Queen Danielle?”

“Very long, King Armand.” Danielle managed a weary smile as she slipped her hand through his arm. “I’ve mediated a dispute between the Fairy Church and the Church of the Iron Cross, met with Lord Garbarin of Eastpointe over the upcoming marriage of his daughter—”

“Isn’t she the one who ran off with a dwarf?”

“The same,” Danielle said. “And then I had to stop at the gardens to lecture the rabbits. They’ve been driving poor Leonard to distraction.” She shook her head. “Your parents did this job for more than twenty years?”

“You heard my father when I accepted the crown. I’ve rarely heard such an evil laugh.”

She kissed him. “Have you seen Talia or Gerta? There’s one final matter I need to take care of tonight.”

“Try the southwest tower.”

She should have guessed. Gerta enjoyed the view from the towers. She often snuck away to the western towers to watch the sun set. Danielle started to leave, but Armand tugged her back. He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and said, “Don’t be too long.”

Smiling, she made her way through the palace, doing her best to greet and acknowledge all she passed while fending off further requests for her time. By the time she finally reached the tower, she was seriously considering asking Gerta to cast some sort of illusion or disguise that would allow her to move about in peace.

She found them standing atop the tower, looking out over the waist-high walls toward the ocean and arguing about Fairytown. Danielle leaned against the door. “Aren’t there supposed to be guards up here?”

“I sent them away,” said Talia. “Will you please tell Gerta how many times Fairytown has used loopholes in the treaty to—”

“It’s in their nature,” Gerta countered. “Might as well ask a bird not to fly, or an Arathean not to be so stubborn.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t reexamine the treaty,” Talia said. “Only that our first priority has to be the protection of our people.”

“Most fairies have never raised a hand against humans. Would you imprison them all to protect us from the threat of a few?”

“Fairytown is hardly a prison,” Talia shot back.

Danielle cleared her throat. “Speaking of threats . . .”

Both of them turned to face her. Danielle suppressed a smile when she saw how close they stood to one another. She started to speak, but stopped to stifle a yawn.

Gerta and Talia exchanged knowing looks.

“A rough day, Your Majesty?” asked Gerta.

“The hardships of royalty,” said Talia.

Gerta clucked her tongue. “It must be difficult, having your every meal prepared by an expert chef, your gowns handmade by the best tailors in Lorindar, your room tended, with servants hovering about to fulfill your every wish.”

“Be fair,” Talia said. “The kingdom’s treasury isn’t endless. Why, I doubt she could buy more than half of Lorindar, at most. She’s practically living in poverty.”

“The poor thing.”

Danielle gave them both a decidedly unqueenlike gesture, earning a delighted laugh from Gerta. Even Talia grinned.