Glass

by Alydia Rackham

  And indeed, he never has. And he holds no love in his heart for his lost parents, either, nor for anyone. He seems to hold the queen in high regard, but perhaps only because he believes she will “smooth his flaws,” as he says, and lift him out of the misery in which he finds himself.

  I now am coming to believe that there are two separate curses at work: one which keeps the kingdom bound in this icy thrall, and another which distorts the mind of the prince so that he believes these cruel lies about himself—enough that his despair drives him to murder himself if the queen is not nearby.

  Do tell me if the masters have any insights about how I ought to proceed. At the moment, I am attempting to persuade him that they are in fact lies, by simply acting as a true friend should, with no expectation and without fear. But I do not know how much can be achieved if the curse is not broken entirely.

  Thank you, Daisy,

  Rose

  Chapter Twenty

  But the Queen’s Arm Was Long

  Rose lay beneath her covers, deeply asleep, at half past midnight. The moon veiled itself. The fire in the hearth dimmed.

  And cold invaded her chamber.

  Darkness swirled into her mind. She rose out of slumber, but couldn’t open her eyes—and she couldn’t move. Panic grabbed her.

  And suddenly—

  A beautiful white face, as if it loomed from the surface of a mirror, dominated her vision.

  It was the Snow Queen—her white hair tossing about her head as if caught by a winter gale. Her icy eyes blazed, and her voice shook Rose’s bones.

  “I see where it is you lie, Curse-Breaker—I have found you in your bed,” the queen hissed. “And I see what you play at with my prince, for each surface of the palace is mine, and my gaze penetrates every wall of glass.” The face pressed closer, so that Rose felt ice upon her own cheeks.

  “Beware, Curse-Breaker,” the queen warned. “I do not tarry long, and when I return you will deplore the day you were born. Flee Spegel before I come for your head, and never return as long as you live—or I shall flay you alive and feed you to my wolves.”

  With that, a terrible chill washed over Rose’s skin and plunged into her heart.

  And for a horrifying instant, it stopped.

  Then, darkness fell—and Rose’s eyes flew open. Her body broke into a shivering fever, her stomach turned over…

  And she lay, nearly paralyzed and terribly sick, all the rest of the night.

  Rose lay in bed well into the morning. The fire crackled feebly, and the roses seemed to retreat in on themselves. Clouds guarded the sun, turning her room grey and listless.

  Her bones ached, her muscles felt weak, and even turning over in her bed felt like a titanic effort. She knew she ought to get up and at least drink something…

  But she couldn’t summon the strength. Instead, she just covered her face with her hand, trying to battle back the horrific image of the Snow Queen snarling into the wind.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “Yes, Elfrid?” Rose called hoarsely.

  “Madam Healer?” he answered through the door. “I was told to tell you that the prince has gone to the Great Mirror Room should you wish to join him later.”

  “Thank you, Elfrid, but I’m not feeling well,” Rose managed.

  “Oh?” he replied. “Can I fetch you anything?”

  “No, thank you, Elfrid,” she replied faintly.

  “Very well, Madam,” he answered, and she heard his footsteps trail off. Rose closed her eyes, listening to the wind moan around the outside of her room. Her heart beat slow and heavy. And she felt, if she allowed it, that tears could easily start running down her face.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Rose opened her eyes.

  Tap, tap, tap, tap!

  Light, but insistent clacking, against the pane of her window.

  She didn’t move. Couldn’t make herself get up. In fact, she thought about pulling the covers over her head—if only her whole arm did not hurt.

  Then, the tapping transformed into a strange, scraping sound. She frowned dully as she listened, wondering what…

  The next moment, a piece of paper slipped through the crack by the hinge of the window and darted into the room. It immediately skidded over to the bed and flapped itself open in front of Rose’s face.

  Feebly, she caught at it, halfway lifted her head, and made herself focus on the words.

  Dear Rose,

  This may be a great deal more grave than even Reola and Effrain imagined. It is very important that you discover the history of that empty frame you found, and that you do so immediately.

  Also, Effrain advises that you lay a protective spell around your room every single night, lest the queen try to frighten you with dreams, make you sick, or put a Melancholy spell upon you that will keep you from wanting to get out of bed. (The remedy for that is hot tea with Source water, by the way—and mountain honey. I didn’t know that.)

  Write back the instant you find out about that frame. The masters tell me it’s devilishly important.

  Daisy

  “Ugh!” Rose groaned, wiping away the streams of involuntary tears. “I am such an idiot!” She made herself sit up, push off the covers, and stand to her feet. “All right then. Hot tea, hot tea…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Prince Found a Puzzle

  Rose got up and straightened her clothes, catching her breath after that wild pitch down the slide. She put a hand to her head and paused, glancing around the vast, dim chamber in the basement of the Ember Keep, where that huge, dark chandelier hung.

  Feeling slightly better after breakfast and tea—her head clearer, anyhow—Rose had dressed herself warmly and ventured out. But not without first building up the fire and setting up a protective spell around her room, just as Effrain had said. She had quickly found her way to the slide labeled “Ember Keep,” and had swung down into it.

  Now, she listened, hoping she had comprehended Captain Elfrid correctly when he’d referred her to “the Great Mirror Room.”

  Taking a bracing breath, she stepped out onto the frost-coated floor, and skated off to her left, toward that long, narrow corridor that led to the double doors. The blue lights flickered against the wet-looking walls, lighting her way just enough. Her booted feet swished against the ice, the sound echoing up and down. At the far end, both doors hung open now, and the cold light seemed to have risen.

  Rose approached the threshold and paused, peering inside the huge, oval room. A few of the wall sconces were lit, their low sapphire flame muttering. They illuminated enough of the lower half of the room for her to see the sprays of mirror glass lying everywhere, winking in the firelight. And in the dead center of the room, Prince Nikolas squatted down, one hand extended, as he arranged pieces of broken mirror with his fingertips. He wore a dark, high-collared navy-blue coat trimmed in silver, with a black neckerchief, trousers and boots. The pieces of glass clicked against each other as he moved them. Rose took a breath.

  “Good morning,” she said quietly.

  Her voice resounded through the vast, cathedral space. He didn’t look at her.

  “Hello,” he murmured.

  Rose stepped inside.

  His hand flew up.

  “Stop.”

  She instantly backpedaled.

  “Why? What is it?”

  He heaved a sharp sigh, then raked his hand through his curls.

  “I’ve been trying since early this morning to rearrange these pieces back to the way they ought to be,” he muttered. “I don’t need you fouling them up any further.”

  Rose’s eyebrows went up, and she glanced through the room.

  “You’re…trying to put this back together?” she said. “There must be more than a billion pieces!”

  “Indeed,” Nikolas murmured, moving three pieces around and setting them against each other.

  “What happened to it?” Rose asked, peering through the dimness to the center of the ceiling. “How
did it break?”

  “I don’t know,” Nikolas replied. “It’s been this way all my life. I never thought about it till now.”

  Rose brought her attention down and frowned at him.

  “Really?” she said quietly. “Why?”

  “I had a dream last night,” he said, bringing both hands down to work with the pieces. Rose’s attention sharpened.

  “The same one?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “This was quite clear—and I saw pieces of this mirror coming back together, re-forging as if it had never been broken. I came to see if that were possible.”

  Rose laughed lightly, casting her gaze around the room again.

  “It doesn’t appear to be,” she said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Nikolas said flatly. But he kept moving the bits of mirror. Rose shifted, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “There’s another mirror down here,” she ventured. “I saw it in a room, down another corridor. A broken mirror, with a black frame.”

  Nikolas’ hands stopped. And without lifting his head, he looked up at her. A faint, eerie smile touched his mouth.

  A chill ran through her.

  “The Bani Looking Glass,” Nikolas murmured—each word deliberate. “What did you think of it?”

  Rose gazed back at him, and shook her head.

  “I wasn’t overly-fond.”

  Nikolas snorted, and slowly rose to his feet. He swept his gaze up and down the huge floor, setting his hands on his hips. But he spoke.

  “It’s an old story—one I was told by the captain of the guard when I was just a child and I’d stumbled upon the frame myself,” he began. “Apparently, when I’d just been born, my parents received a gift from a faraway kingdom: a beautiful mirror in a black frame. It was given to the head glassmaker in Spegel, and he took it home to adorn his house. But all at once, he wouldn’t come out, even when summoned by my father. When his family and friends came looking for him, they found him captive to the mirror, just sitting in front of it. Not eating or drinking or sleeping. He would protest and become violent if anyone tried to drag him away. And then, suddenly…” Nikolas looked up at her, lifted his eyebrows and smiled wryly. “He threw himself out his third-story window.”

  Rose stared at him. He shrugged, and glanced across the room.

  “The men sent to retrieve the mirror did the same thing: sat staring at it until they went mad, and then offed themselves. So, my father had soldiers with blindfolds go into the house, cover it with cloth, and bring it to the court to be studied by the healers and magic-makers. But as they entered the audience chamber, the mirror writhed free of their grasp of its own accord, fell to the floor, and smashed.” Nikolas met her gaze again. “Which is why even the frame is hidden from everyone in the palace, and no one has touched it since.”

  “Do you know where it came from?” Rose pressed intently. “Which kingdom?”

  Nikolas turned from her and sighed frankly.

  “I do not,” he said. “I’ve never taken much interest in mirrors.”

  “Except this one?” Rose said. He nodded slowly.

  “Except this one.”

  Rose canted her head.

  “What do you think would happen…” she ventured. “If you did fix it?”

  Nikolas’ gaze grew distant, his brow furrowing as he stared down at the countless jagged splinters all around him.

  “I have no idea,” he muttered. “Nevertheless…I am keenly interested in knowing.”

  Rose watched him for a moment—but he said nothing more; just carefully knelt back down, and began arranging the pieces again. Rose lifted her chin.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Mm,” he grunted. “Bring my dinner to my chambers at four o’clock this afternoon. And don’t forget my breakfast tomorrow—unless you want me to starve like I’m doing today.”

  “Oh!” Rose cried. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I didn’t feel well and I forgot…”

  Nikolas gave her a sideways look—and the smallest of smiles. Rose stopped. He turned back to his work.

  “See that you don’t forget again,” he said quietly.

  “I shan’t,” Rose assured him. “Thank you.”

  And with a quick curtsey, she backed away from the door and hurried back up the corridor.

  She had to write back to Daisy.

  It wasn’t even two o’clock yet when Daisy’s letter came careening into the window. Rose jumped up from the bed where she’d been reading a book and opened the pane—the letter blundered straight into her chest and flapped itself open before she had a chance to do it herself. Scrambling, she grabbed it out of the air and forced it to go still so she could read it.

  Rose,

  As soon as I read your letter I went instantly and told Effrain, Clanahan and Reola about this. And we have finally realized what is happening:

  These are two different spells.

  One spell is causing the kingdom of Spegel to live in an eternal winter. It is very possible that the even deeper magic of the realm itself is trying to reach its monarch through dreams. The blood rulers of kingdoms and their realms can share that type of bond if the bloodline has been uninterrupted for several centuries. Nightmares come from curses, but visions such as the one the prince had usually come from kinder enchantments. Which makes the masters believe that if the prince can put the mirror in the Great Mirror Room back together, then the curse of winter will break. We are confident that the Snow Queen put this spell in place because she wants to live there, and can’t abide summertime. And we are absolutely confident she broke the mirror, since the glass of Spegel is unbreakable except by magic.

  The next thing the masters strongly suspect is that the silver piece in Prince Nikolas’ eye is a bit of glass that came from the Bani Looking Glass. Effrain and Reola have heard of it, and what it did to people who looked into it. They say that it turned every reflection into a poisonous mix of horrifying and fascinating—that it showed the beholder’s worst faults to him, it brought his ugliness and flaws to the forefront, and yet would never allow him to look away until he hated himself so much that he wanted to die. Reola and Effrain think that when the mirror broke in court, a piece blew into Prince Nikolas’ eye. They suspect that the Snow Queen sent it, hoping that when it broke, a bit or two would come into contact with a baby boy or a little boy, and she might finally find her mate. The silvery bit you see is actually the back of the mirror—the reflective bit is facing inward, toward him. So, part of him is always looking at that reflection, and the curse on that mirror causes him to constantly see wretchedness, hatefulness and ugliness in himself. By the time he’d grown enough to know himself, the Snow Queen then sensed a kindred spirit in him, and sought to unite with him once he was a man—for if he had been constantly filled with that kind of venom, no love could ever blossom in his heart, and it would be safe for her to take him to herself.

  But Effrain and Reola confess that they don’t know how to break that curse—save from putting out his eye. (Clanahan suggested that one—maybe that’s why Stormcrane wanted this job…) But of course I told them that taking a handsome prince and putting out his eye because he feels wickedly about himself would not improve the situation at all! We are still debating amongst ourselves, but of course we are here and you are there, and you have a far better perspective than we do. The masters trust you to do the wisest thing possible with the information we give you.

  But Reola commands that you are under no circumstances to remain there when the queen returns. Effrain says that the queen will certainly make good on her threats and will not hesitate to kill you. If you believe you cannot break this curse before she returns, then you are ordered to flee. You must promise us that you will do that. Please, Rose—do not overstay. Breaking this curse is not worth your life.

  Our thoughts remain with you always.

  Daisy

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  An Unexpected Gift Was Given

  Rose ventured down several levels
in a Jetta, twisting her gloved hands as the lift’s gears swished smoothly. She bit the inside of her cheek, her stomach tight as she turned Daisy’s words—and her masters’ command—over and over in her mind…

  The doors opened. She stepped outside into the corridor, and headed down the steps toward the entrance to Hoarfrost Hall. Both great double doors hung open…

  Rose frowned.

  Servants and courtiers bundled in and out of these doors, and bustling noise echoed from inside. She picked up her pace, swept around two servants carrying splendid white chairs, and leaned inside…

  She stopped, her eyes going wide.

  The hanging snowflakes had vanished, replaced by suspended showers of twinkling lights—like frozen starlight. Servants had removed the long tables, and usurped them with two sections of clear glass chairs padded with white fur. Down the center lay a long, narrow silver carpet that shimmered like the surface of a stream. From the center of the ceiling hung a new chandelier—a slowly-turning, self-contained blizzard that burned a sharp light from within. At the far end, instead of the thrones, stood a towering crystal altar draped in snowy fabric that glittered with diamonds. Servants hurried back and forth all throughout the hall, arranging chairs, setting standing lanterns, unfurling banners and hanging garlands of glass icicles.

  “Madam Healer!”

  She jumped, and turned to her left to see Captain Elfrid approach her and bow at the waist. She smiled at him.

  “Hello, Captain, how are you?”

  “Quite well, ma’am,” he replied. “And you?”

  “I’m…” Rose took a breath and made herself nod again. “I’m well. What’s…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “What’s the cause for the redecoration?”