by Jim C. Hines
Gerta rubbed her eyes. “I know. I can’t either. She’s my sister.”
The cold was seeping deeper into Talia’s body, making her shiver. “So what do you plan to do with me?”
“What will you do if I free you?”
“I can talk to Bellum and Veleris. Well, to Veleris, anyway. Assuming they don’t kill us on sight. There has to be another way to-”
Gerta put a hand on her lips. “If there were, don’t you think we’d have found it already? Noita, Laurence, Father Isaac… Veleris is right. I’m the key.”
Talia sighed. “I have to save her. But if there’s any way to do so without hurting you, I promise I’ll do it.”
“Thank you.” Gerta stretched out beside her on the bridge, the warmth of her body pressing against Talia’s side. She moved her hand over Talia’s arm. The ice cracked and broke. Talia started to sit up.
“I’ll go back with you,” said Gerta. “But please let me have this.”
Talia bent her arm, causing bits of ice to flake away from her sleeve. Pain shot through her elbow. She did her best to shut it out as she gently wrapped her arm around Gerta’s shoulders and lay back, closing her eyes. Gerta rested beside her, using her free hand to remove the remaining ice.
“What if one of those dragons comes back?” Talia asked.
She could feel Gerta’s smile. “Let the dragon find its own woman.”
CHAPTER 20
The snow-and-ice walls of the palace swallowed the sounds of Snow’s footsteps as she prepared to greet her visitors. Tiny frozen servants scurried about, buffing every imperfection from the surface of the frozen lake. They swarmed behind her feet, a tiny cloud erasing all evidence of her passing. The room was empty of furnishings, save for a throne of ice in the very center. Simple, uncluttered… this was the closest she had felt to comfort since leaving Lorindar.
Prince Jakob sat beside the throne, manipulating the ice shards Snow had given him. He had managed to fit three pieces together, forming an irregular shape roughly the size of a hand mirror. The longer he worked with the shards, the more the edges scratched his palms, and the more his blood and power seeped into the ice.
The polished floor let her see everything that took place within the palace. She watched impatiently as white-furred mounts that had once been human stepped out of the woods, carrying the six nobles who had accepted Snow’s offer.
They had left their weapons behind, but none were truly unprotected. Two had taken potions to strengthen their magic. Another had swallowed a pearl to help him resist mental control. Nor were their magics purely defensive. Snow could see the charms on one man’s fingers, the nails sharp and hard as talons, and coated in some sort of magical toxin.
She gathered her cloak around herself as her creatures escorted the men into her throne room. One of the men stepped forward and knelt. “Queen Ermillina. I am Stevan Tirill, Lord of Kettunen.” His companions followed suit. “I was there when your cousin claimed your throne. I spoke against him, but the Nobles’ Circle chose to grant the crown to Laurence.”
Snow didn’t bother to conceal her revulsion. Tirill was a yellowed husk of a man, a minor noble whose ambition had always exceeded his ability. He dressed in the gaudiest of fashions, silk and silver clashing with his foxskin jacket. Greed and fear spilled from his words, soiling all who heard them.
Like the others, he wore powerful magic. His protective spells had been tattooed onto the bone of his skull. It was a painful and archaic process, once performed upon noble children when they were first born. He was well guarded against outside influence or attack, but the skull shifted as it grew, introducing imperfections into the spell. Snow studied his magic through the mirror until she found those flaws.
“Your Majesty, Allesandria will soon fall into civil war.” He paused for effect, then shook his head. “No, war is too neat a term for the chaos spreading through this land. Laurence means to disband the Circle and give the crown to you. Half the provinces have already spoken out against him.”
“Only half?” Snow asked.
Tirill stumbled. “Your Majesty, Allesandria has seen your power. Word has spread that Queen Ermillina is returned to her homeland to take the crown from her cousin the usurper. I would offer my allegiance.”
“The rest of you would do the same?” Snow approached, her eyes lidded as she continued to examine their magic through the mirror of her lake. “You would swear to me. Yet you each swore an oath to King Laurence when he took the throne.”
“King Laurence now serves you,” said Tirill. “By doing the same, I fulfill my oath to obey him.”
Snow smiled. The man knew full well Laurence was not himself, but this deception served his greed and ambition. “Tell me, Stevan. What will you do if I refuse this… offer?”
He spread his hands, the picture of false modesty. “Without the Lords, I’m afraid you’ll never consolidate your hold over Allesandria. Even your mother knew this nation was too large for any one person to control alone.”
Snow watched his wrinkled face as she strode closer, enjoying his battle between arrogance and fear. “My mother believed in control.” She flexed her hand, feeling the stiffness of healing cuts on her palm. “Answer me one question, and I’ll accept your oath.”
He rose and took an eager step closer. “What question is that, Your Majesty?”
“After my mother died, when the Circle called for my execution, to whom did you lend your voice and support?” When he didn’t respond, Snow began to pace around him. “Those loyal to my mother sought to punish me for her death. Others saw it as a chance to free Allesandria from the rule of Curtana, to put a new family on the throne. Not even Beatrice would fight for my birthright.”
He blinked. “Beatrice, Your Majesty?”
“How did you vote, Stevan?”
He bowed low. “I had seen Queen Curtana’s cruelty, both to her people and to her daughter. You acted to protect yourself. I said you were innocent of wrongdoing. Alas, the Circle would not listen to my arguments.”
The lies were foul as spoiled milk. The man wore his greed like a crown. His fat tongue flicked hungrily over cracked lips. Even as he lowered his head, he stared lustfully through his lashes. His gaze crawled over her skin, and the raw desire made her shudder. Desire both for her body and for her power.
“Thank you for coming.” Snow offered her hand. He took it eagerly, his sweaty fingers tight as he kissed her knuckles. Snow concentrated, casting a minor variation of a familiar spell that slipped through the cracks in his defenses. “I remember you well, and had hoped you would accept my invitation.”
Stevan risked a smile, even as he flexed his hand. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He frowned and shook his fingers. “I’m glad to see you returned home at last. Under your wise rule…”
Snow backed away. “I am not my mother, Stevan. Flattery is but another lie, and I’ve no tolerance for such. Nor for groveling cowards who care for nothing but their own fortunes.”
Stevan cried out and clutched his arm. The other nobles backed away. Several whispered warding spells, but none yet dared to act against Snow.
“You say you knew her cruelty, yet you did nothing to stop her?” Snow returned to her throne, settling herself on the ice. “You stood by as she tortured those who displeased her? Burned their bodies to ash while their loved ones looked on?”
He fell, whimpering. By now the blood in his arm had frozen solid. Chunks of ice would be breaking away, flowing through his veins toward his heart. He would be dead long before the rest of his body froze.
Snow turned her attention to the other nobles. “And what of you? How many of you watched and did nothing?”
One man stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I know not what my father did, but he died only two years past. I never knew your mother. Nor did we know you yet lived.”
“Are you hoping to convince me of your loyalty?” Snow asked. “Your honesty? Yet you also took an oath to serve King Laurence, and now you’ve come to me. Or d
id you accept my invitation in order to discover my location and destroy me? You think I’ve not noticed your failed telepathic attempts to summon help?”
He attacked without warning, but the others were quick to follow. There was little artistry to their magic. A simple spell of flame, a curse to destroy her senses, another to make her sleep… one woman did attempt a rather unusual form of teleportation, trying to transport parts of Snow’s body to different locations. Snow wondered briefly where she had learned that particular trick.
Their spells never touched her. Snow stood upon the largest magical mirror ever created. It absorbed their attacks, reflecting them back not at the casters, who would presumably know how to counter their own spells, but at their companions.
Within seconds, three more nobles had fallen. Snow’s guardians, men twisted into creatures of fur and fang and claw, closed in to deal with the remaining two.
“Take the bodies to the edge of the palace. Spill their blood in an unbroken ring.” Noble blood, full of magic. “I will not be alone, my dear Stevan.”
A flicker of magic tugged her attention to the child. Jakob had finally managed to conjure an image within his makeshift mirror. He sat with his back to the carnage, his shoulders shaking. Snow walked over and tugged the bloody ice from his hands.
When she saw what he had done, she nearly dropped it. Within the ice was Snow herself. Not as she was, but as she had been: her face unscarred, her smile one of genuine merriment. The reflection wore a green jacket, and was sucking frosting from her fingers. This was a memory, from Jakob’s birthday celebration earlier this year. “I’d expected you to summon up your mother or father.”
“Aunt Snow will fight you.”
“She tried.” A flick of her finger should have banished the image. Instead, the reflection turned to stick out her tongue.
Snow yanked the image from the small mirror and transferred it into the ice at her feet. For a moment, that tug echoed within her, giving her the key. Jakob might have instinctively summoned a comforting memory from the mirror, but even with his fairy blood, he couldn’t have given that memory life.
“Much better.” The reflection stretched, then turned to look at Jakob. “He’s smarter than you realize.”
“He’s a child. He might even appreciate being a part of my mirror. Instead of a too-brief mortal life, he’ll live on for all eternity.”
“Eternity?” Snow grinned from the ice. “I’ll wager a hundred crowns you don’t survive the month.”
By now, the last of the nobles had been dragged away, leaving only the sheen of blood to mark their fall. “I know what you’ve done. Cutting out a part of your soul, blotting her from your memories to hide her from me. Using her to protect a fragment of your own soul. Clever, but I’ll have Gerta back soon enough.”
“Just like you had her in Kanustius?”
“That was you.” She thought back to Kanustius, to her confusion. Her weakness. She had intended to order Danielle and Talia killed, and Gerta placed into magical hibernation until she could be studied. “Gerta’s magic drew you out, gave you strength enough to save your friends’ life. You realize those same friends mean to kill us?”
“They mean to kill you.” The reflection folded her arms. “But I hate waiting.”
The ice cracked beneath Snow’s feet. She jumped back with a curse. Magic pulled at her legs, trying to drag her through, but it was human magic, weak and easily turned away. A wave of her hand sealed the surface of the ice, trapping the reflection within. The next spell it cast was turned back, and the reflection screamed in pain.
Jakob had done her a favor. Whatever remained of Snow’s humanity was now trapped and powerless within the ice. Better to keep it there, where it couldn’t influence her the way it had back in Kanustius.
Satisfied, she turned to study the boy again. Perhaps there was a way to hurry Gerta’s destruction along. “It’s time to find your mother, child.”
Jakob deliberately avoided looking at the puddles and smears of blood on the far side of the room.
“She’s in danger, but fairy magic hides her from me. You have the power to find her. She needs your help.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Jakob spoke so meekly she barely heard, but there was no uncertainty in his words.
The reflection gave a weary chuckle. “Told you he was smart.”
“It doesn’t matter.” To Jakob, she said, “She’s in danger nonetheless. This might be your last chance to see her alive.”
She turned her attention to the ice, showing him the chaos spreading through Allesandria. A hurricane battered one city, courtesy of a possessed weather mage. Another was a blackened ruin, with flickers of green flame still dancing over the wreckage left by her rogue Stormcrows. Hundreds of her servants had been killed, but more than a thousand fought on. With Laurence fallen under her control-
“First Allesandria, then the world?” her reflection asked, sounding bored. “How unoriginal.”
She scowled. “Find me one ruler worthy of their throne. Show me a single nation not founded on lies and bloodshed.” She turned toward Jakob. He was watching the destruction as well, his eyes round. “Your mother is trapped in this madness, Jakob. I could save her. Find her for me, and I give you my word she will be spared this.”
“The word of a demon,” Snow repeated from the ice. “I’ve got a word for you. How about-”
A wave of her hand silenced the reflection. She approached Jakob. “You are clever. Clever enough to know what I’ll do to your mother, and to you, if you refuse me, right?”
Jakob bit his lip and nodded.
“Very good.” She bent down, planting a cold kiss on the top of the boy’s head. “Find her.”
Deep in the ice, the reflection raised one hand in an obscene gesture.
Don’t show fear. It was the first rule of fairy diplomacy, but as Bellum roared her fury, Danielle was less worried about diplomacy and more concerned with avoiding those ham-sized fists. Bellum had already smashed one barrel, spilling paper-wrapped blocks of cheese across the floor. Stand proudly. In a society where a creature who resembles a child’s doll can command ogres, size means nothing.
“We invited you into our home,” Bellum shouted. “Offered you shelter. In return, your pet witch unleashed yet another spell. She tried to-”
Danielle straightened. Confidence is everything. As if she were correcting her son, she said in a mild voice, “Will you please stop whining?”
Two sets of eyes blinked in shock.
“Were you or anyone else injured by Gerta’s spell?”
“Every spell makes it more likely someone from the surface will find us,” Bellum argued. “She might have killed us all!”
“She was frightened.” Danielle pointed to the shelves. “She could have filled this room with fire, but your scrolls are untouched. She singed your curtain, blackened a few parts of the floor.”
“My hair-”
“Will grow back.” Half of Speas Elan had to be able to hear Bellum’s rage. She lowered her voice, forcing Bellum to do the same in order to hear. “You have my word there will be no further magic, nor attacks against you or anyone else in Speas Elan.”
“The word of a human isn’t worth the breath it takes to speak it,” Bellum scoffed. “If Allesandria discovers us as a result of her carelessness-”
“The humans of Allesandria are a little busy right now. Anyone with magical ability is more worried about fighting this demon than they are about finding you.” She sat and grabbed one of the blocks of cheese. “Besides, if you punish Gerta, you risk all of Speas Elan learning how a human girl and her magic got the best of you.”
The giant had quieted somewhat, which was a good sign. Bellum scowled and looked to the door. “Your friends are likely dead anyway, depending on where they ran off to. There’s a nest of feral kobolds in the deeper tunnels, not to mention the dragons, a few poisonous snakes, and a one-armed centaur. Poor bastard lost his arm to fairy hunters sixty years ago, but eve
n left-handed, he can throw a spear hard enough to crack rock.”
“Talia has faced worse. I trust them to take care of themselves.” Danielle unwrapped the cheese and took a bite. Her eyes widened, and she coughed. The cheese had a hard, crusty rind, and that single bite filled her head with an overpowering taste that reminded her of dandelions and onions, with a strange nutty aftertaste. “What-” She hurried to the water barrel in the corner and snatched the copper dipper, drinking deeply. “What is that?”
“You’re happier not knowing.” Bellum took a large bite and grinned. “Humans. So delicate. Try this.” She tossed Danielle a strip of smoked meat.
Danielle nibbled warily. The meat had a peppery taste, but was positively mild compared to the cheese. “Thank you.”
Bellum and Veleris sighed in unison as they surveyed their home before sitting down across from Danielle. “The least you could do is tell the Duchess’ coldhearted slave there to clean up the mess.”
Danielle glanced at the darkling, who moved to obey. She and the giant ate in silence for a time. Food appeared to calm Bellum’s temper. Danielle slipped into the role of servant girl, fetching food and drink for them both until the giant sat back and belched from both mouths.
Danielle folded her arms, studying Bellum closely. “So what did the Duchess promise you?”
Both faces stilled. “What do you mean?”
“She sent us here, expecting you to help us,” said Danielle. “The Duchess is the most calculating person, human or fairy, I’ve ever met. Her darkling knew the way to Speas Elan. She knew you wouldn’t attack us or turn us away. Which means she had already arranged things with you.”
“Fairy politics is a maze of bargains, oaths, and obligations.” Bellum’s face wrinkled with distaste.
“And the wise ruler seeks not to escape the maze, but to rule it from its heart,” Danielle said, recognizing the quote.
Veleris’ eyes brightened. “You’ve studied the Eightfold Path?”
“I’ve read it,” Danielle said. Part of it, at any rate. She had flung the book away after only a few incomprehensible chapters. “What bargain did you and the Duchess reach?”
