The Snow Queen's shadow

CHAPTER 13

Danielle had grown up within sight of Whiteshore Palace. She had visited most of Lorindar, as well as four other nations, since her marriage to Armand. But Kanustius was easily twice the size of any city she had seen.

From the hills she could just make out the palace at the center. The architecture was similar to the palaces of Hilad, a design that always reminded Danielle of oversized toadstools pressed together. Every domed roof shone like gold. Given Allesandria’s wealth, it wouldn’t have surprised her to learn it really was gold.

The burning city wall blocked her view as they approached. Back home, small homes and businesses had sprung up outside of the city, crowded most closely at the gates, but here the clearing was empty. The snow had melted, turning the ground to mud. Steam rose from the earth nearest the wall. She could see stone towers positioned beyond the flames, little more than dark shadows. There would be lookouts watching the roads from within, no doubt. “How do we get inside? There’s no gate.”

“There is, but we can’t reach it unless the Stormcrows decide to let us through.” Gerta pointed to where the road met the fire. “You can see it behind the flames.”

Danielle pushed back her hood and wiped sweat from her brow. She squinted until she spied the rectangular framework in the flames. “You said the fire could be used as a weapon against intruders?”

“They say the wizard who founded Kanustius slew a hundred dragons by magic. He buried their skulls in a ring around the city, binding them to protect all who lived within.” Gerta watched the flames as if entranced. “I remember Mother ordering the fires raised once, when we were young. We were returning from the mountains, and she had heard rumors of a Morovan assassin. I remember thinking how pretty the sparks were. Snow used her magic to call one to our carriage, thinking to keep it as a pet. She burned a hole in her cushion.”

“What will it take to persuade them to admit us?” asked Talia. Her gaze flicked from one tower to the next as they left the protection of the trees. “They’ll have been watching us ever since we crested that last hill.”

Talia’s horse whinnied and stepped sideways. Eyes wide, tail compressed against her hindquarters, the mare backed away from the wall, ignoring Talia’s commands.

“Easy,” Danielle whispered. She stroked her own horse’s neck. She didn’t blame them for being afraid. If the heat was this intense, how much worse would it become when they tried to pass into the city? Only Gerta appeared unaffected, her hands tucked into her sleeves for warmth as she stared at the wall.

“We can walk from here.” Gerta dismounted and stepped away from her horse.

“Wait here, please,” Danielle said to the horses as she and Talia followed suit.

They started toward the gate, but made it only a short distance further before the heat grew too intense. Talia grimaced and said, “Subtle they’re not.”

“You thought we’d simply waltz into the city to request an audience with the king?” asked Danielle.

“You did tell him we were coming, didn’t you?” Talia cupped her hands to her mouth, then froze.

“What’s wrong?” asked Danielle.

Talia tilted her head to one side and sniffed the air. “Magic.”

Gerta laughed. “The three-story wall of blue fire gave it away, did it?”

Talia didn’t smile. She turned around, squinting at the trees behind them. She reached under her cape.

Gerta’s smile vanished as she grabbed Talia’s wrist. “Are you mad? Draw weapons here, in full view of the towers, and you’re dead. Not even you can dodge the Stormcrows’ magic.”

Talia scowled, but withdrew her hand. “So what would you suggest we do about them?” She pointed to the woods.

These wasps were bigger than the ones Danielle remembered, their buzz lower in pitch. She counted seven streaking from the trees. “Get as close to the wall as you can. They won’t like the heat.”

The horses ignored her. Between Talia, the wall, and the wasps, it was all too much. They nickered and galloped away, fleeing toward the woods. Danielle did nothing to stop them. The wasps didn’t appear to care about the animals. The horses were probably safer in the woods than they would be if they stayed here.

Talia snarled and jerked her sword free of its sheath. “The Stormcrows can’t kill us for defending ourselves.”

“They can, actually,” said Gerta, but she drew a dagger of her own.

Sweat stung Danielle’s eyes as she backed toward the flames. The wasps flew at chest height, fast as sling stones. They split into two groups to attack from both sides. Danielle ducked as they buzzed over her head and circled back away from the fire.

Gerta jumped back, yanking her cloak away from her body. A wasp clung to the material, its mirrored stinger tearing one hole after another.

“Don’t move,” said Talia. Her sword smashed the wasp to the ground.

Gerta yelped. One hand went to her ear, as if checking to make sure Talia hadn’t severed it. Talia simply grinned and swung at another wasp.

“You said the wall would allow Snow to pass, because she was of royal blood?” Danielle asked. “You’re her sister. Will the wall recognize you?”

Gerta bit her lip, her face pale. “I… I don’t know. If I’m truly Snow’s sister-”

“Do it.” Danielle shoved her away. “They can’t follow you into the flames. Stay within it as long as you can, until they’re gone.”

Gerta hadn’t quite reached the wall when the wasps regrouped for a second attack. Danielle braced herself.

Blue fire crackled through the air like the breath of a dragon. Smoke and steam exploded from the earth. Four of the wasps vanished in an eyeblink, blasted to vapor. The rest tumbled to the ground, their wings dripping to nothing.

Talia swore. Fire flickered on the edge of her cape. She threw herself into the mud, rolling back and forth until the flame was completely smothered.

The column of fire continued to burn a few moments longer, roaring almost as loudly as a living dragon. It originated from the top of the wall, arcing outward like water from a fountain. It died in much the same fashion, thinning to a trickle that fell back into the wall. Danielle jumped to the side to avoid small bits of flame that splashed down.

“Are you all right?” Talia asked.

Danielle nodded. Talia appeared unhurt, as did Gerta, who stood frozen at the wall as if uncertain what to do next.

“Snow knows we’re here.” Talia brushed mud from her cape, a futile gesture that only spread the dirt. “If she didn’t before, she does now.”

“You think her wasps were following us?” Danielle asked.

“More likely she sent them here as scouts. If she’d known where we were, she would have attacked already.” Talia peered up at the wall. “I want to know why Snow never built us something like this back in Lorindar.”

“She couldn’t,” said Gerta. “The raw materials alone would cost more than your kingdom is worth. The fence is made of-” She jumped back as a man stepped through the wall beside her. The fire splattered from his body like rain, hissing where the individual flames touched the earth.

He was clearly one of the city’s wizards, but he didn’t look like any wizard Danielle had seen before. For one thing, he was wearing armor. The mail appeared to be made of gold and steel, the individual rings little thicker than wire. The gold links wove a swirling pattern like snakes converging toward his heart. His only weapon was an ebony-handled athame at his hip. He wore a black half-cape and matching trousers tucked into fur-lined boots.

He doffed a metal helm and gave a slight bow of greeting. He was slender and bald, his brown scalp shining in the firelight. Even his eyebrows had been shaved. He studied them each in turn, but kept most of his attention on Gerta. When he spoke, his words were calm, but firm.

“He’s warning us, ever so politely, that we’ll be killed should we attempt to fight or flee,” Talia said, never taking her eyes from the wizard. “His fellow Stormcrows listen from the towers. He wants to know who Gerta is and how she approached so close to the wall.”

“Be careful what you say.” Danielle glanced at the puddle where one of the wasps had fallen. A sliver of glass lay half-buried in the mud. “They may not be the only ones listening.”

Talia continued to translate as Gerta said, “My friends and I need to enter the city.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Stormcrow. “Those things that attacked you, this isn’t the first time we’ve fought them. They possess their victims. At least four Stormcrows have been turned, along with gods know how many civilians. We’re working to track them down, but we can’t risk letting more inside.”

“So you’re saying your magic can’t even show whether or not we’re infected?” Talia asked.

He almost smiled. “I sense no evil in you, but it’s the height of arrogance to assume none are powerful enough to conceal their spells from me. We prefer not to take the risk.”

“So instead you’ll wait for the next swarm to fly over the wall and attack your people?”

This time, his smile broke free. “They’ve tried three times. The flames stretch up as well as out.”

Gerta folded her arms. “Unless things have changed since my last visit, that cape marks you as an officer. You can communicate directly with the king, and he with you?”

“If the need arises, yes.”

“Good.” Gerta kicked mud over the exposed slivers of glass, then stepped past him and plunged her hands into the flame before he could stop her. In a low voice that barely carried over the sound of the fire, she said, “Please let Laurence know that his cousin, Princess Rose Gertrude Curtana, wishes to speak with him.”

The Stormcrows moved with impressive speed. Gerta barely had time to remove her hands from the wall before two more armored Stormcrows stepped through to seize her arms.

Talia dropped into a low stance. One hand went to her sword. The remaining Stormcrow, the officer, raised his hands and spread his fingers in response. Talia’s lips pulled back, and her heart beat faster. She should have no problem taking him out before he could cast a spell, but his companions were another matter.

“Don’t,” Danielle said softly. “It’s not like we can fight our way through this wall.”

“How will you know unless you try?” But Talia forced herself to relax.

The Stormcrow lowered his hands, though he kept a wary eye on Talia. “The king says to bring them in.” To Danielle, he said, “My name is Forssel, Captain of the northern wing of the King’s Stormcrows. These are Colville and Vachel. We’ll be escorting you to the palace.”

Talia relayed the man’s introduction, as well as Danielle’s thanks. The Stormcrows didn’t bother to take their weapons. Given the way Colville and Vachel were eyeing them, Talia didn’t believe for a moment the Stormcrows trusted their guests, which meant they didn’t think weapons would matter. She glanced at the scorched starburst on the ground where blue fire had incinerated Snow’s wasps. They were probably right.

“Take my hand as we pass through the wall,” said Forssel. “Keep your heads low, and let me go first. Otherwise, your bodies will be little more than charcoal when you tumble out the other side. There’s no air, so don’t try to breathe. Colville will remain here to retrieve the remains of those creatures.”

One by one, the Stormcrows led them into the city. Talia was the last to grip Forssel’s hand and approach the blue flames. The heat was almost unbearable, emanating as much from Forssel’s armor as the fire itself. When he neared the wall, fire leaped to meet him, dancing over his helm and through his armor. Sparks followed the gold patterns in his mail, jumping to the ground when they reached the bottom.

Talia had prepared herself for the light and the heat, but not the wind. Her hair rose, and her cape flapped as the air rushed upward past her body. Sparks burst from the edges of the cape as the wolf’s enchantments interacted with the dragon fire. The wall was thicker than she had realized. It was four paces before she emerged on the other side.

She stepped away from the flames, blinking the dryness from her eyes. The others were waiting, and appeared unharmed.

“Welcome to Kanustius,” said Forssel, backing to what was considered a polite distance in Allesandria. Still close enough for Talia to reach him with her sword, if necessary.

The streets were paved in red-tinged stone, cutting tight paths between low, blocky buildings. Smoke rose from most of the chimneys. Painted knot work, mostly in blues and whites, trimmed the doors and the narrow windows.

The air was far too quiet for a city of this size. Talia could see people watching through cracked shutters. Those on the streets moved quickly, looking straight ahead.

“This is how things felt when my mother ruled,” Gerta said softly. She stared like a newcomer, her forehead wrinkled as she took in her surroundings. “Smothered by fear. No one was allowed in the streets after dark without a permit.”

“The curfew was overturned years ago,” said Forssel. “The blue wall serves as a warning to the people as well as a defense. They keep to their homes, trusting the king to deal with the threat. But the wall has been raised for several days now, and tensions are growing.”

“How did it begin?” asked Danielle.

“Every city is under heightened alert,” he said. “We’ve been hunting Snow White ever since the murder of Lord Ollear.”

“Yet she remains free,” Talia observed.

Forssel didn’t appear to take offense. “Allesandria is well protected against invasion. Whole armies have entered our woods, never to emerge. Lyskar once attempted to expand their borders. The king of Allesandria turned the very mountains against them. But Snow knows the land, and she travels alone.

“Alone?” Danielle repeated sharply.

“She’s scattered her followers. They move singly, or in small groups.” His face tightened. “Yesterday, a seer from the university dreamed a silver cloud raced inland from the harbor. King Lawrence sent a full unit of Stormcrows to intercept the cloud.”

“What happened?” asked Gerta.

“It wasn’t a cloud, but a swarm. Hundreds of those damned things racing toward the capital. The Stormcrows’ spells were reflected back upon those who cast them. Six were killed instantly by their own magic.”

“The mirrors.”

His face tightened. “Exactly. Much like the protective charms Queen Curtana would wear to guard herself from attack.” He glanced at the other Stormcrows. “The rest were stung. We’ve been forced to kill three of our own people today.” He touched his hand to his heart and whispered three names, presumably those of the fallen Stormcrows.

“I’m sorry.” Gerta repeated the names. “The palace is north of here. Where are you taking us?”

“There’s a quicker way, and safer, if any of Snow White’s slaves have infiltrated the city and are watching.” He pointed to a stone building at the end of a street lined with inns and bars.

“An icehouse?” Gerta asked. The building was squat, not even a full story high. “I don’t understand.”

“Could this be a trick?” Danielle asked softly. Talia wasn’t sure whether the Stormcrows spoke the tongue of Lorindar, but neither of them reacted.

“A little late for that question.” Talia shook her head. “Nothing’s certain, but if they wanted us dead or captured, there are easier ways to go about it.”

Vachel unlocked the icehouse door. It was twice as thick as a normal door. Fog spilled into the street, and Talia glimpsed large blocks of ice stacked against the walls inside. Straw lined the stone walls and carpeted the floor, save for a wooden trapdoor in the center of the room.

“Watch the steps,” Forssel said as he led them inside and hauled open the trapdoor, revealing a narrow staircase.

“You’re not worried about people discovering your secret way into the palace?” asked Talia.

Forssel grinned. “Anyone watching saw a group of workers coming in for ice. A charm of suggestion, not true illusion. It dampens curiosity, and as they wander away, their minds will convince them they saw us emerge hauling a block back to a nearby tavern.”

Candlelight flickered to life from Forssel’s fingertips. Vachel hauled the door shut. There were no windows, and the single flame didn’t provide much light. Talia stepped carefully, testing each step as she descended after Forssel. Inside, the air stank of magic.

Downstairs was even colder. She pulled her cape tight, but couldn’t block the icy air that snuck through the layers to chill her skin. The floor was crushed gravel. Larger blocks of ice lined three walls. A variety of hammers and chisels hung from the fourth.

“In summer, this room is filled and sealed off,” said Forssel. “But for winter, the people move smaller blocks upstairs for easier access. Runoff from the streets, magically purified, feeds into this room through the pipes in the corners.”

“I see no passageway or tunnel.” Talia kept her hands in her sleeves.

“It’s here.” Gerta squinted at the ice. “The enchantment isn’t in the ice, but in the pipes.”

Forssel frowned. “That’s right.” He stepped past Gerta and pressed his hands to the ice, which began to melt at an unnatural rate. Water poured down, splashing and disappearing into the gravel. When he stepped back, the outline of a doorway remained, perfectly carved in the ice. “If you’re truly who you say, this will take you to the palace.”

“What if we’re not?” Talia asked.

Vachel chuckled. “In that case, it will take you… somewhere else.” He and Forssel backed toward the stairs, not so subtly blocking the only other way out.

Danielle straightened. “Thank you.” She touched a hand to the ice. Cold water dripped down her palm and trickled along her wrist.

Talia caught her shoulder. “I’m going first.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t a trap,” Danielle said.

“I did.” Talia touched the doorway. The door opened inward, revealing a dark tunnel through the ice. “I’ve been wrong before.”

Talia stepped into the darkness. She had taken only two steps when a voice spoke from behind.

“You know, you’re much prettier when you smile.”

Talia spun. The ice room had vanished, replaced by old ruins and desert sand. Her friends were gone, as were the Stormcrows. In Forssel’s place stood Snow White, dressed in a yellow Kha’iida robe, her headscarf hanging loose from her neck.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Snow continued. “The smoldering look works for you, but I’ve always preferred your laughter.”

Talia’s sword shook in her hand. Snow’s face showed no sign of scars or cuts. Her hair was pure black, as it had been when they first met. Her eyes were wide, full of amusement, but it was the untainted joy in her laughter that convinced Talia to lower her weapon. “This is Arathea.”

Snow shrugged. “We had to leave in such a hurry the last time. We didn’t even have time for a proper tour of your homeland. This is the palace where you grew up, isn’t it?”

Talia turned about. The last time she was here, she had fought a fairy army. As if conjured by the thought, the sound of hoofbeats chilled her skin. Her sword snapped into a guard position. Howling filled the air, followed by screams. “The Wild Hunt?”

“They’re dreams, nothing more.”

Talia tried to calm her breathing, fighting memories of the destruction the Hunt had left in its wake. They were victims of an ancient fairy curse, twisted into the very embodiment of chaos and death. “So they can’t hurt us.”

“I never said that.” Snow’s lips quirked. “Dreams have power. You should know this.”

Talia snorted. “And you should know it’s been a while since I’ve dreamed.”

Snow acknowledged the point with a tilt of her head. “It’s a shame, really.” She stepped closer, sliding a hand up Talia’s arm. “Dreams can be quite… invigorating.”

Talia shivered. She was dressed similarly to Snow, in a jade robe and matching head scarf. Her red cape was gone, and with it her best hope of fighting the Wild Hunt.

“Don’t worry,” Snow said, tugging Talia’s scarf free. Real head scarves were thick, woven to protect the wearer from the desert sun. This one floated away like silk. “They’re not coming for you this time.”

Talia forced herself to pull away. “Are you real? Or is this some trick, an illusion cast by the demon?”

“If so, then you’re already lost,” Snow said matter-of-factly. “You might as well enjoy it.”

The Hunt was closer now. Talia could see the growing dust storm that marked their approach. “You said they weren’t coming for me. Who-?”

Snow gestured past Talia, to where Danielle and Gerta sat upon a crumbled wall, sharing some kind of green melon. Talia tried to shout a warning, but no words emerged. She started to run. Her feet sank into the sand, deeper with each step.

“You can’t protect us all,” said Snow.

“Watch me.” Talia snarled and turned to face the Wild Hunt. Dream or no, she still owed the Hunt for the things they had done in Arathea.

Lips brushed her cheek, but when she spun around, Snow was gone. The thunder of the Wild Hunt fell silent. Light faded, and cold air embraced her. She took a step, and the sand beneath her feet changed to wood.

Magic jolted her body, so sharp she felt as though her heart momentarily stopped beating. She found herself in a small, finely furnished sitting room. The floor was patterned wood tiles, alternating triangles of light-and dark-stained oak that made the shapes appear to rise from the floor. Gerta was already here, sitting in one of the blue high-backed chairs spread around a low table. There were no windows, though the painted vines and trees on the wall gave the illusion of being in the woods.

“Danielle should arrive shortly,” Gerta said.

“Thank you.” Talia was unsurprised to see only unbroken wall behind her. There was only a single door on the opposite side of the room. She tried the handle and found it locked. She heard nothing beyond. “That dream. What was it?”

“You think the king would allow strangers into his home without first examining their minds and motives?”

“He saw that, did he?” Talia retained both her weapons and the red cape. She pulled the latter tight, feeling exposed. “What happens if he doesn’t like what he sees?”

“In my mother’s day, they said you would emerge… elsewhere. Some say she had hundreds of rooms built into the foundation of the palace, coffin-sized chambers with no light and no way out. Nothing but darkness, too cramped even to move as you slowly starved to death.” She cocked her head. “Though I don’t know if my mother would trap you somewhere she couldn’t question you. Somewhere she couldn’t listen to your screams.”

Talia studied the portraits on the walls while she tried to squelch the need to tear out the throat of the king of Allesandria. A central painting in an arched, gold frame showed King Laurence and Queen Odelia. Smaller paintings to either side depicted their two children. The girl looked about five years old. The boy was closer to Jakob’s age. Both children were painted in the stiff, full-body pose that was popular these days.

She wondered how the king and queen had kept their children still long enough for the artist to paint them. She still remembered the trouble Danielle and Armand had gone to. In the end, Danielle had simply dressed a tailor’s dummy in Jakob’s clothes. The artist had added Jakob’s face and hands later.

Danielle emerged then, stumbling through an opening in the wall that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She clutched her sword in both hands, swinging downward at an unreal foe. The tip gouged the floor.

Talia darted forward and caught Danielle’s wrist, tugging the sword from her hand.

“I’m sorry,” said Danielle. She crouched to run a finger over the damage to the wooden tile. “Glasspaper should smooth out the damage, but it will need to be restained.” Her hands shook, giving the lie to her calm words.

Slowly and deliberately, Talia rested the tip of Danielle’s sword on the floor and leaned on the hilt.

“We’re guests here,” Danielle reminded her.

“You don’t greet ‘guests’ with visions of-” Talia swallowed, then handed the sword back to Danielle. “Are you all right?”

“We were back at the palace,” Danielle said. “Jakob was playing another of his hiding games. Armand and Snow were both there. Beatrice too, I think. But we couldn’t find him.”

“The king will be here soon,” said Gerta. “I can feel him studying me.” She pointed to the stained wood trim along the walls, like an intricately carved chair rail, only at chest height. “That runs unbroken through the entire palace, allowing the king and queen magical access to every room. My mother ordered it made, to better spy on her guests and servants.”

She seemed calm, almost bored, making Talia wonder what she had seen as she entered the room.

“I was running,” Gerta said, answering Talia’s unspoken question. “I couldn’t see whether it was Snow chasing me or something else, but then I recognized the dream magic.”

“What did you do?” asked Talia.

Gerta smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I stopped playing.”

The door opened, and a man in his late twenties entered. “She tried to pull me into the dream with her.”

“King Laurence.” Danielle’s nod was rather less than the formal greeting of one noble to another, but the king didn’t appear to notice.

He was a heavyset man with pale skin and jet-black hair too perfect to be natural. A gold sash crossed his formal, thigh-length white jacket. Gleaming black boots came to the middle of his shins. He carried a scepter, a gold rod slightly shorter than a cane, topped with a simple circle of gold. He spoke the language of Lorindar with only the slightest accent. “Welcome to Allesandria, Princess Whiteshore. I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion into your minds.”

“You can hope,” Talia muttered.

Danielle shot a warning glare at Talia. “I trust you saw enough to confirm our identities, Your Majesty?”

“I saw that, and more.” He turned his attention to Gerta. “Forssel relayed your actions at the wall. Combined with your attempt to disrupt my dreamspell-”

“Attempt?” Gerta repeated.

The king seemed tired, but his wry smile reminded Talia a little of Snow. “It’s not every day a cousin I’ve never met enters the palace, accompanied by the Princess of Lorindar and the Lady of the Red Hood.”

“Talia’s not-” Danielle began.

“Here to kill anyone,” Talia finished. If he wanted to believe she was a legendary assassin, who was she to argue with a king? Laurence had certainly prepared as if she were the Lady of the Red Hood. Talia could smell the protective spells that encased him like dwarf-forged mail.

“You’re not the one I was worried about, Talia.” Laurence watched Gerta closely. “Everything I saw in your dreams suggests you’re who you claim, but I find it difficult to believe even Rose Curtana could have hidden you so thoroughly.”

“Long-lost heirs show up all the time,” Talia said.

“Not in Allesandria.” He gestured to the chairs. Both Danielle and Gerta sat, but Talia refused. It was another violation of Allesandrian manners, one which forced even a king to remain standing. “I saw your fears as well, Gerta. Like your friends, you fear for Ermillina. But there’s something more. You’re afraid of being reclaimed.”

“I was formed from her essence,” Gerta said.

“Meaning I’ve welcomed a part of Ermillina Curtana into my palace.” Laurence massaged his brow.

“I would never-” Gerta started.

“I know.” He raised a hand. “Had I seen anything in your dream to suggest you were a threat, you never would have emerged. But the fact that you wouldn’t knowingly act against Allesandria means little. Should Ermillina find a way to act through you-”

“She doesn’t know who… what I am,” Gerta said softly. “She burned my memory from her mind, and Talia’s cape shields us from her vision.”

“For now.” Laurence began to pace. “Years ago, Queen Beatrice promised me Ermillina would never return to this land. I’m familiar with Beatrice’s gifts, crude and untrained though they were. She gave me her word. Yet my cousin has murdered at least two members of the Nobles’ Circle. Her spells have enslaved hundreds.”

“Beatrice told the truth,” Gerta said. “Sight such as hers was often unreliable, even more so when one tries to see beyond one’s death.” She bit her lip at that, looking suddenly vulnerable.

“I trusted her.” Laurence’s knuckles were white around his scepter. “How many of my people are dead today because I allowed your queen to talk me into helping Ermillina escape?”

The beat of Talia’s blood threatened to drown out the king’s words. “Her mother tried to murder her,” she snapped. “You ‘helped’ her by stealing her throne for yourself.”

The room fell still. Danielle cleared her throat. “Talia, you’re not helping.”

Laurence no longer bothered to hide his anger. “Allesandria never would have allowed Rose’s daughter to-”

“How many people are dead today because you were too weak or afraid to stand up for a young girl whose only crime was to protect herself from a murderer?” Talia finished.

“I could have argued on her behalf,” Laurence admitted. “I could have defied the Circle, lent my voice to Ermillina Curtana… and I would have been shouted down, sent back to the eastern provinces while another claimed the throne. One less willing to allow the daughter of Rose Curtana to live, even in exile.”

“You should tell her that when she arrives,” said Talia. “I’m sure she’ll be very interested in your excuses.”

Danielle stood. “I must have misunderstood the plan.” She matched Talia’s stare. “I thought we had come to search for the means Rose Curtana used to imprison this demon. Not to provoke an incident between Lorindar and Allesandria.”

Talia’s blood pounded hot in her veins. She opened her mouth to respond.

“Which is more important?” Danielle asked mildly. “Venting your anger, or helping Snow?”

Talia clamped her jaw and slowly lowered herself into her chair.

“What is right is not always what is possible or practical,” said Laurence. “I wish every story ended as neatly as that of Cinderella-”

Danielle raised an eyebrow.

“-but we live in a world where fear and greed overrule justice. A world where a mother tries to murder her own daughter out of jealousy. I received the birds with their warning, thank you. We’ve taken precautions, but… that mirror never should have left Allesandria. If it had been destroyed-”

“Then the demon would have escaped even sooner,” said Gerta.

“This is where Rose Curtana captured it.” Danielle gestured at the walls. “Did she have a study or a laboratory, a place she might have used for such summonings?”

“My people searched every room when I took power. Four were killed by traps my aunt had left behind. Seven others were injured or driven mad. Believe me, we’ve examined this palace quite thoroughly. There is no such summoning chamber.”

“There has to be,” said Talia.

Laurence rubbed his eyes, and for a moment, the royal mask fell away to reveal worry and fatigue. “Who told you of this chamber?”

“Her name is Noita.” Gerta raised her chin. “She’s the one who helped my mother prepare it.”

“The flower witch?” Laurence gave a bitter laugh. “We hunted down most of Rose Curtana’s companions. Noita appeared harmless.”

“She’s not. I was there.” Gerta hesitated. “Snow was, I mean. We saw-She saw Noita helping our mother.”

“I will have the Stormcrows search again,” said Laurence. “But there is another possibility we must pursue. Your connection to Ermillina could give us the means to act against her.”

“We’ve tried to find Snow through Gerta,” said Danielle. “Our people-”

“Are not Allesandrian.” Laurence twisted his scepter in his hands. “When it comes to magic, Allesandria is second to none. If Gerta is who and what she appears to be, we can use her against my cousin.”

“Without harming her?” Danielle demanded.

Laurence hesitated ever so slightly. “We will do everything in our power to preserve her.”

Talia stepped between Gerta and the king.

“That’s why you allowed me to enter,” Gerta said.

“The Stormcrows advised against it,” Laurence admitted. “They feared you could be a trap. But Ermillina has avoided capture for too long. If we can strike at her through you, then I felt it worth the risk.”

“She’s a person,” said Talia, struggling to keep the wolf under control. “Not a weapon.”

Laurence started to answer, then stiffened. “Forgive me,” he said, stepping toward the wall. He pressed his fingertips to the wood trim circling the room. He rapped the end of his scepter against the wood, and a low hum filled the room. “In Allesandria, the distinction is often slim. As it turns out, the argument may be moot.”

“What do you mean?” asked Talia.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. The door opened inward to reveal a woman in the silver mail of a Stormcrow. She bowed, speaking too softly for even Talia to overhear. Laurence clasped her arm and said, “Double the guards, and order the halls cleared.”

“What is it?” Danielle asked.

“My Stormcrows have captured Snow White. They’re bringing her to the palace now.”