The Snow Queen's Shadow (8 page)

“She loved me.”

“And your father did not? I don’t see you carrying his soul around in a sword.” The Duchess leaned closer. “My darklings did nothing but awaken the fairy magic already within your son’s blood. Judging by your mother’s trick with the hazel tree, I’d guess dryad magic, perhaps three or four generations removed. Your son is a rare creature indeed. One with the ability to manipulate both human and fairy magic. The only question was who would be first to sense that potential and try to steal it.”

“Impossible.” The anger in her voice startled her, but she didn’t try to suppress it. The idea that her mother, that she herself carried fairy blood . . . “Jakob is human. Snow examined him many times after we escaped your cave, and she never found anything unnatural.”

“What could be more natural than fairy magic?”

Danielle shook her head. “I would have known.”

“Is our kind so horrible? Rest your mind, Princess. You and your son are human in every way that matters. But, like your friend Talia, you’re also something more.”

“You knew.”

The Duchess spread her hands. “I suspected. Human blood dilutes our own. Even a fairy of the pure caste might not recognize one of our descendants after a few generations.”

“Why did you never—?” Danielle backed away. There were many reasons to keep such secrets. A better question was why the Duchess was telling her now. Was it simply a way to keep Danielle off-balance? “What do you want?”

“I can help you find Jakob. In exchange for that help, you will send him to me in Fairytown for six months of each year. I give you my word to raise him like my own son. He will be protected from all harm. Given everything you’ve said, he’ll be safer here than in your own palace.”

“You can’t be serious,” Danielle breathed.

“Isn’t this better than losing him altogether?” The Duchess softened her words, never losing her smile. “I can teach him to understand his fairy blood, to use his magic to protect himself.”

For Jakob’s sake, Danielle refrained from telling the Duchess what she could do with her bargain. “Choose another price.”

“Why ask me, Princess? Why not your friend Snow White?” Amusement danced in her eyes. “Could it be she has finally overreached herself, that she’s fallen prey to her own power?”

The Duchess knew Snow was behind Jakob’s kidnapping. It shouldn’t have surprised her. Febblekeck was the obvious candidate for the spy, but by now word had likely spread.

“As I understand the story,” the Duchess said, “Snow’s mother ordered her killed. She intended to dine upon her own daughter’s heart. Gruesome, but not unknown.”

Danielle kept silent, unsure where the Duchess was leading.

“Ancient wizards believed you could consume another’s magic in such ways. I hope whoever stole Jakob away doesn’t believe as Snow’s mother did. I hate to imagine him suffering such a fate because his own mother was too weak to protect him.”

“I won’t save him from one evil only to give him to another.”

“Very well.” The Duchess’ image began to fade. “When you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”

Danielle’s blade rang against the floor where the Duchess’ face had mocked her only a moment before. Her strike cut the carpet and gouged the tile below. She relaxed her grip, allowing the sword to fall to the floor.

The Duchess was fey; she would keep her word, protecting Jakob and raising him as her own son. Raising him to be fairy. Shaping him into God only knew what. Given the Duchess’ own magic, how difficult would it be to turn Jakob against his own kind?

She stepped to the window. Tiny flecks of silver and iron were worked into each pane of glass. Fairy glass, said to protect against magic, though only the weakest of charms would be repelled by such. The Duchess had answered Danielle’s summons easily enough.

A quiet squeak made her jump. A lone mouse stood in front of her wardrobe, balanced on his hind legs. The animals had always known her mood, coming to comfort her in the darkest times of her childhood. Danielle thought them friends sent by her mother’s spirit.

She dropped to one knee as the mouse darted closer. Drawn by friendship, or by some instinctive fairy allure? “The Duchess is right about one thing,” she whispered. “Every moment I waste, Snow takes my son farther from here.”

The mouse jumped back and waited, whiskers quivering. Its pose reminded her of a soldier awaiting orders.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid you can’t help me in this.” She grabbed her sword and headed for the chapel. Nobody stopped her as she crossed the courtyard. Perhaps something of her mood showed upon her face, because while several people started toward her, each one swiftly turned away.

She yanked open the chapel doors, taking in the scene in a single glance. Armand lay asleep on the altar. Gerta and Father Isaac had stopped talking in mid-sentence with Danielle’s arrival. “How is he?”

“Unchanged,” said Talia. She appeared disheveled, her hair a mess, her clothes rumpled and sweaty. A glance at the bench beside her explained why. A red cape, lined with wolfskin, sat in a pile on the bench. The cape had once belonged to the assassin known as the Lady of the Red Hood. Talia must have tried using the cape’s magic to track Snow and Jakob.

“Did you find anything?” Danielle asked.

Talia glanced at the cape. “Snow’s scent vanished from the workshop. I picked her up again near the main gate, but lost her outside the palace. I think she took a carriage, but I couldn’t say where she went.”

“Damn.”

Talia was studying Danielle’s face. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.” This wasn’t the time to talk about the Duchess’ revelations. Danielle marched past, toward the altar. Gerta took a step back. Was Danielle’s frustration so apparent? “What have you found?”

“Very little.” Gerta was clearly exhausted, her eyes red and shadowed. She had nearly frozen to death below the palace, and hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since . . . ever, really. “Neither exorcism nor summoning rituals have helped. Everything is coming from within the prince. As far as we can tell, the demon isn’t controlling him. It’s simply changing the way he sees the world. It’s fascinating, really.”

Father Isaac cleared his throat, and Gerta blushed. Her enthusiasm reminded Danielle of Snow. Her eyes shone with the same excitement when she talked about magic. “We have to remove the splinter from his body.”

“It moves each time we try to examine it,” said Father Isaac. He had unbuttoned the prince’s shirt, and pulled it open to show new bruises along the right side of Armand’s chest. “I’ve kept him asleep, but the splinter acts like a living thing. I’m afraid if we try to cut it from him, we’d only send it deeper into his body.”

“Where is it now?”

Gerta pointed to Armand’s lowest rib on the right side. In a soft voice, she said, “Had it remained in his arm, we might have been able to amputate.”

Danielle forced those images away. “Snow could destroy her mirrors at will, reducing them to powder. Can you crush this splinter?”

“Even if we did, the pieces might still carry the curse,” said Father Isaac.

Gerta chewed her lower lip as she studied the bruises on Armand’s side. “If we bled him as soon as the glass was crushed, we might be able to remove most of it. Like sucking poison from a wound.”

“Or we could spread the poison throughout his body,” Isaac countered.

Danielle turned away. “A single sliver took my husband from me. My father was a glassmaker, but never have I seen a mirror as large as Snow’s. What we’ve seen in the palace is only the start. We have to know if this infection can be cured.”

“There are others we could attempt to free,” Isaac said. “I could have one of the prisoners brought from the dungeon—”

“They’re not prisoners, they’re people. Friends. You mean to tell me their lives are less important than Armand’s? That their families will grieve less over their loss?”

“He means you don’t risk the Prince of Lorindar to unproven magic,” said Talia.

“I could trap it,” Gerta said suddenly. She brushed her fingers over Armand’s chest. “Crushing the splinter isn’t enough. I need to isolate it from the prince . . . bring me a pearl.”

“Why a pearl?” Danielle repeated.

“Pearls are formed to protect the oyster from irritation,” Gerta said. “If I can do the same to this splinter—”

“Sympathetic magic.” Father Isaac moved toward the prince. “Yes. We can use the pearl as a focus to encase the glass.”

“Assuming we can trust her,” Talia said sharply. “We don’t know what she is, and now you mean to let her work her magic on the prince?”

Gerta jerked back, her brow furrowed with unguarded hurt. “Have I lied to you, Talia? Tried to trick you in any way?” She turned to Danielle. “I don’t know how Snow created me, or why, but she’s my sister. She wouldn’t want this. Let me help you.”

Not for the first time, Danielle wished Beatrice were here. The queen had always been able to see through deception. She would have known whether Gerta could be trusted, whether they should allow her to help Armand. “How long would it take?”

“Armand is asleep. We’ve isolated the splinter. I could begin now.” Gerta shrugged. “Bring someone new, and it will take longer.”

“Snow’s magic has already robbed Lorindar of its prince. And every hour gives Snow more time to escape with my son.” She whispered a quick prayer to her mother, and to Beatrice. “Father Isaac will help you.”

Isaac stepped sideways, away from the altar. “Perhaps we should consult King Theodore first, just to be certain—”

“No,” whispered Danielle. “He’s already lost his wife. Would you burden him with this choice?”
Or with the consequences, should things go badly?
From Isaac’s expression, he heard her unspoken words. “Do what you can for Armand.”

CHAPTER 7

G
ERTA APPEARED OBLIVIOUS to everyone’s attention as she pored over Armand’s body, her face so close to his skin that the hairs on his chest brushed her nose. If Danielle was wrong about her, it would be so easy for her to kill Armand.

Danielle banished that thought, as she had so many others. Father Isaac stood beside Gerta, his expression intent as he split his attention between Gerta and the prince. Talia paced behind the altar, her face a mask of distrust.

What
was
Gerta? Could Snow really have created a true person, an individual with her own mind and soul? Snow had never hinted that she could cast such magic. Or was Gerta’s life mere imitation, perhaps a fragment of Snow herself, broken from the whole?

Danielle could see glimpses of Snow in Gerta. The way she whispered absently to herself as she traced runes onto Armand’s arm, the set of her lips when she concentrated, her obvious excitement over the workings of magic.

How many years had Snow spent imagining a sister, sculpting every last detail with her mind, trying to ease her loneliness? Gerta wasn’t quite as attractive as Snow, which made sense. Snow’s vanity wouldn’t allow her to imagine a more beautiful sister. Gerta was taller, with a more prominent nose. Her teeth were perfect, but slightly too large. Her eyes were a muddy brown, reminding Danielle not of Snow herself, but of Snow’s mother.

If they were unable to stop whatever demon had taken Snow, Gerta might be the closest Danielle ever got to seeing her friend again.

Gerta’s scream filled the chapel. Talia lunged to grab her arm, but Gerta shook her away.

“Let her work,” Isaac shouted. Danielle had never heard him yell before.

“What’s happening?” Danielle asked.

“Give me the pearl.” Gerta reached blindly toward the silver communion cup that held a single perfect pearl. Talia shoved it into her hand. Gerta began to chant in another tongue. Sweat beaded her nose and forehead. Danielle could hear the pearl rolling about, though Gerta held the cup perfectly still.

“The demon,” said Isaac. “As Gerta’s magic touches the mirror, she also touches Snow.” He took his crucifix in both hands and began to pray. Gray smoke billowed from the thuribles, the incense strong enough to make Danielle’s eyes water. His voice grew deeper, filling the church. “Depart. You are not welcome here.”

“She sees me.” Gerta was trembling.

Danielle stepped closer, putting her hand over Gerta’s on the cup. “Focus on the mirror. You can do this.”

Gerta grabbed a small jar of oil and poured a circle onto Armand’s chest around the freshest of the bruises. The skin turned pink where the oil touched. Gerta pressed her fingers into the center of the ring.

Danielle could see a tiny lump beneath Armand’s skin. “Is that it?”

Gerta took the pearl from the cup and pressed it onto the lump with her thumb. “She’s trying to break it. I can encase one sliver, but if it fragments further . . .”

Armand’s eyes opened. Talia jumped forward, catching his arm and pinning it to the altar. Danielle did the same on the other side, using her full weight to keep him from reaching Gerta. He was so strong, his fingers pinching and ripping the skin of Danielle’s arm as he struggled to break free. He kicked at Isaac, who stepped out of the way without interrupting his chant.

Isaac gestured with one hand, and Armand fell back, though he remained awake.

“I’ve almost got it,” said Gerta.

Armand’s eyes narrowed, and his lips drew together in a smile.

“Be careful,” Danielle warned.

The cracking sound was so quiet Danielle almost missed it. Gerta screamed and yanked her thumb back. The pearl had split in two, and blood beaded from the center of Armand’s chest.

Isaac caught Gerta’s wrist and reached out with his other hand. “Knife!”

Talia slapped a dagger into his hand. Isaac pressed the blade to Gerta’s thumb and cut a shallow line. Gerta shrieked again, but didn’t fight. Instead, she grabbed the dagger and pushed it deeper.

“The cup,” Gerta said.

Danielle grabbed the cup from the altar. Blood dripped from Gerta’s thumb, along with a sparkle of glass no larger than a grain of sand. “Is that—?”

“She broke the splinter in two.” Gerta stuck her bloody thumb into her mouth. Her whole body was shaking. “She tried to shove the other piece into me.”

As the pounding of Danielle’s heart slowly calmed, she noticed another sound: Armand, laughing softly to himself.

“I could feel her reaching for me,” said Gerta. “Like her magic was a weed, digging its roots into my veins. If Father Isaac hadn’t cut it free, she would have taken me as well. I’m sorry.” Gerta wiped her face as she turned to Talia. Isaac grabbed a cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. “She was surprised. She wasn’t expecting anyone to try to remove one of the slivers, but she’ll be prepared now. She’ll be watching for me to try again.”

Isaac set the cup and splinter onto a small shelf, whispering a quick blessing over them both before returning to the prince. He placed a hand on Armand’s chest and began to pray.

“Not even our mother could do such magic,” Gerta whispered. “Snow ripped through Isaac’s protections, threw off my spells, all through such a tiny fragment of glass.”

“You’re still here,” said Talia. “That’s what matters. We’ll find another way.”

Armand laughed again. A thin line of blood dripped down his stomach, staining the waist of his trousers. “Do you tell such lies to comfort yourself, Talia? Or are you foolish enough to believe them?”

Danielle stepped away from the altar. Armand hadn’t moved since that one aborted attempt to reach Gerta. “Father, will your magic hold him?”

“His body,” Isaac said, stepping away from the altar. “For now.”

Danielle gestured for the others to follow as she strode to the far side of the chapel. In a low voice, she said, “Thank you for trying, Gerta.”

Gerta managed a crooked smile. “So
now
do you trust me?”

Gerta might be a stranger, but she spoke with weary familiarity, so much like Snow that Danielle couldn’t help but smile in return. “It’s a start.”

“Will Snow come after you?” Talia asked.

“I don’t think so.” Gerta checked her thumb. Blood welled from the cut, and she wrapped it in the hem of her cloak. “She hid me from herself, ripping the memory from her own mind to protect me from the demon. She knows someone tried to free Armand, but she doesn’t know who I am.”

Danielle turned away. What had Snow intended for Gerta? Gerta wasn’t strong enough to fight a demon. Was she a merely a way for Snow to save some part of herself?

“What now?” asked Talia. “Half the palace is out hunting for Snow and the prince, but we don’t know where she intends to go next.”

“She’s at sea,” said Gerta.

They turned to face her.

“As Snow tried to take me, I . . . I think I glimpsed her as well. Her whereabouts and her thoughts. Like a nightmare, trying to swallow me into darkness, but I saw water, and I felt the shift of the deck.”

“She’s going home,” whispered Talia. “To Allesandria.”

“How do you know?” asked Gerta.

“She spoke of the pain of leaving your home. Of surrendering your birthright.” Talia stared at the floor. “‘Nobody forced you to flee, to turn your back on your throne.’ She was talking about me, but . . .”

“But herself as well,” Danielle finished. “If the winds are favorable, we might be able to intercept her before she reaches Allesandria.”

“Do you know how to stop a demon?” asked Gerta. “She took your son and swept through the palace as though neither guards nor wards even existed.”

“Accounts of such creatures are rare,” Isaac said, hooking his thumbs through his necklace as he paced. “The church teaches that demons are beasts of Hell. By their nature, they spread pain and chaos, and they do not stop until they are destroyed or returned to Hell.”

“There are theories that Hell is simply another world,” Gerta said. “Albeit one less hospitable to beings such as ourselves.”

“Perhaps.” Isaac turned to Danielle. “Like the devils of old, this one works through lies and deception. It seeks not to control Snow, but to corrupt her.”

“Snow’s mother bound it into the mirror,” said Danielle. “If we could do the same—”

“Once trapped, we could find a way to destroy it!” Gerta nodded eagerly. “There was a witch named Noita. She lived by the river near the winter palace in Kanustius. My mother went to her on occasion, when she required assistance with certain rituals.”

“Would she know how your mother controlled this demon?” asked Danielle.

“She might. Not even my mother could have worked such magic alone.”

“We’ll take the
Phillipa
,” said Danielle. “She’s the fastest ship in the Lorindar navy. If we can intercept Snow before she reaches Allesandria, we’ll try to rescue Jakob. If not, we find Noita.”

“How do you plan to steal Jakob away from her?” Talia demanded. “She took Jakob from the heart of the palace. When I faced her, I barely escaped with my soul intact.”

“So don’t face her,” Danielle snapped. “While we engage with Snow, you sneak onto her ship and find my son. Snow might be too powerful for us to stop, but you’ve had no trouble dealing with her other victims.”

Unspoken between them was the fact that they had no idea how to save Snow herself. Talia dug her nails into her palms, but nodded once. “The
Phillipa
was Bea’s ship. Captain Hephyra’s oath was to her, not to Lorindar. With the queen dead, she might already have left.”

“Not yet.” Danielle was already hurrying toward the door. “Her crew were men of Lorindar. She would need time to raise a new one. Pack your things. We leave at high tide today.”

Talia found Danielle in her quarters a short time later, stuffing clothes into a brass-studded carriage trunk. It was a measure of Danielle’s distress that she wasn’t bothering to fold them.

Talia coughed softly so as not to startle her. “I’ve asked the kitchen to search for some of that tea mix Snow used to make, to help your seasickness.”

“Thank you.” Danielle stifled a yawn as she shoved a jacket and a pair of boots into the trunk, followed by a thick brown cloak.

Talia glanced at the second trunk sitting beside the bed. “Armand?”

Danielle’s shoulders tensed. “Still in the chapel. Father Isaac will continue to search for ways to free him from the demon’s influence.”

Talia pressed the door shut behind her. “When I faced Snow, the things the demon said . . . you can’t parry words. To hear those taunts from the one you love lodges the barbs deeper.”

Danielle bowed her head. “Snow makes for Allesandria because, deep within her heart, some part of her longs to return home, to regain those dreams. That longing is real. What does that say of Armand’s heart? Deep down, did he choose me not for love, but for simplicity? Because I was
safe
?”

“Perhaps some part of him did.” Talia shrugged. “Just as a part of you wanted him because he could help you escape your stepmother and stepsisters.”

“I love him,” Danielle insisted, turning away from the trunk.

“I know.” Talia leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. “You love him now. What was it you loved that first night, when you knew nothing but his name, his looks, and the fact that he danced like a drunken ox?”

A smile tugged briefly at her lips. “He wasn’t that bad.”

“You should have seen him when he was learning. He nearly crippled three of his mother’s handmaidens.” Talia sighed and joined Danielle, helping to gather her things into the trunk.

Danielle was holding up thus far, keeping her emotions under control while she dealt with the crisis at hand. Talia had seen her like this before when Armand was kidnapped, and again a year later when Beatrice was attacked. But she didn’t know how long Danielle could keep going with both Armand and Jakob endangered. Danielle was exhausted, her body tight with the strain, as though the next blow might shatter what strength she had left.

“Danielle, are you certain about this? Whatever this demon is, it will fight us. Perhaps you should remain behind to keep Lorindar from falling apart. I know Theodore would appreciate the support.”

Danielle yanked a pair of trousers from Talia’s hands and refolded them. “She has Jakob.”

“So you would give her the future queen of Lorindar as well?” Talia kept her voice soft. “A single cut from her mirror and she’ll own you, just as she does Armand.”

“Then I’ll trust you to keep me safe, as always.” Danielle rose. In addition to her sword, she wore a long dagger on her belt. Talia nodded her approval. “Talia, I have to go. I can speak to the animals of the sea, ask them to help us.”

“What of your husband? If Jakob—If we can’t stop Snow . . . you and Armand—”

“I know what you’re not saying,” said Danielle. Her cheeks were wet. “I know my duty. Chancellor Crombie has already expressed his ‘concerns’ over this voyage. He feels as you do, that I should remain here while others search for my son. Should Jakob be lost, my responsibility is to bear another heir, to protect the Whiteshore line.”

Talia made a note to punch the chancellor in the face at the next opportunity. “You know how I feel about Jakob. I’ll do everything in my power to—”