by Jim C. Hines
“I’m ready.” Gerta stepped back from a hole just wide enough to squeeze through. “It probably won’t stay open for long.”
Talia retrieved her knife and pushed past. To the darkling, she snapped, “Aren’t you supposed to be a spear?”
Between one step and the next, a white-furred arm shot out and seized the darkling by the throat, dragging it inside. Talia swore and climbed after them.
The darkling was doing its best to hold off a trollshaped creature with claws of ice. Darklings were quick and agile, but the troll held it fast. One white hand crushed the darkling’s neck while the other slammed its head against the ice wall. The darkling tried to shift its form, but the troll wouldn’t let go.
Talia flung her knife into the side of the troll’s neck. When that did nothing, she reached back through the hole to take Gerta’s knife, which she used to stab the back of the troll’s leg. She ducked as it swiped at her with one hand.
That distraction was enough for the darkling to seize the troll’s other arm. Ice and fur fell away, and the flesh beneath withered. The troll roared, but the darkling clung tight. Dust fell from its fingers, and the limb dropped away. There was no blood.
The darkling sprang, one arm wrapping around the troll’s head, the other grabbing Talia’s dagger, still lodged in the troll’s neck. Talia grimaced as the darkling yanked the knife free and slashed the troll’s throat.
“Are you all right?” Danielle asked.
Talia nodded, watching the darkling as it tossed the knife to the ground and backed away. It had fought as fiercely as a wild beast, but that final blow had been artistic in its precision.
Gerta had dropped to one knee, brushing snow from the floor to reveal the frozen surface of the lake. The ice was clear as glass, showing only blackness below, and reflecting the tall, curved hallway around them. Green and blue light flickered within the walls, like slow flames trapped in the ice.
Gerta wiped away more snow. White cracks were spread through the ice in a pattern too regular to be natural. Like tiles, if every tile were a plate-sized puzzle piece, no two identical. “Something’s wrong.”
“You don’t say,” Talia muttered.
“The mirror . . . it’s tainted.” She glanced back at the wall. “When we entered the palace, we passed into a magical circle.”
That couldn’t be good. “What kind of circle?” asked Talia.
“A line of blood, traced just below the surface of the ice. I think it’s for a summoning.”
“Remember what she said back in Kanustius,” Danielle said, her voice tight. “She doesn’t mean to rule Allesandria. She means to destroy it.”
A summoning circle the size of a palace. Just like Snow’s mother had used. “Can one demon summon others?”
“I’m not sure. With Snow’s help . . .” Gerta trailed off.
“It’s a mirror.” Talia crouched beside her. “Snow could always shatter her mirrors at will. Can’t you do the same to this? Crack the circle enough to disrupt its power?”
“But not enough to drop us all into the lake, please,” Danielle added.
“Mirror, mirror, cold and bleak—” But even as Gerta spoke, frost spread over the ice. She swore and yanked her hand away. “It’s Snow’s mirror, not mine. The mirror, the traps, the entire palace is attuned to her.” She gave a weak smile. “In a way, it’s comforting. The fact that the palace rejects my control proves I was more than just a piece of my sister. That I was my own person.”
Talia’s jaw tensed at the word “was.” She straightened. “Stay behind me. There will be other traps.”
“We don’t have the time.” Gerta extended a hand to Talia. “I can get us through.”
“How?” Talia asked.
“Snow and the demon have been trying to reclaim me ever since she learned what I was. It’s time to let her.”
“No.” The word slipped out before Talia could stop it. Gerta had made her choice back in the fairy mines, but this was too soon. There had to be another way.
Gerta took her hand. “I’ll hold on as long as I can.” The tightness of Gerta’s grip and the cold sweat of her palm belied her calm tone. “Hopefully, as she starts to pull me back into herself, it will be enough to make the palace accept me. I should be able to control it for a short time, before I lose myself to her.”
Talia glanced down the hallway. “How long?”
“That’s hard to say.” Gerta managed a halfhearted smile. “I’ve never done this before.”
It was the kind of thing Snow would have said, only Snow would have hidden her fear better. Talia blinked. “Fight it.”
“Snow tried to fight the demon, too,” Gerta said, her fingers squeezing Talia’s palm. “She couldn’t—”
“Snow was alone when this thing took her. You’re not. Listen to my voice. Stay with us.”
“She’s always been stronger.” Gerta smiled, her eyes momentarily lost in memories. “I’m ready.”
You’re all I have left of her. Talia held her tongue, knowing the words would only hurt.
Gerta began to whisper.
“What are you doing?” asked Danielle.
“Removing Veleris’ spell on myself.” She knelt and slid her fingers along one of the cracks in the ice. Blood welled from her fingertips. For an instant, Talia spotted a glint of ice in the cut, and then it was gone. Gerta’s body tightened, and she squeezed Talia’s hand hard enough to bruise. “She’s so strong.”
“So are you,” said Talia.
Gerta clung to Talia’s arm as though she would fall without support. “It’s like balancing on the edge of a cliff, trying to lean out without falling.”
“I’ve got you,” said Talia.
“So does she.” Gerta shuddered. “This way. Quickly.”
Talia helped her down the hallway into a small, circular room. Coffins of ice were laid out in a circle. Danielle rubbed her hand on the closest, clearing the frost.
“Members of the Nobles’ Circle,” said Gerta, her voice strained. “Dead. She used their blood to form the circle.”
Gerta started across the room, but bumped into one of the coffins. “You’ll need to help me, Talia. One of the mirror shards is in her eye. It blinds me. I see what she sees. I can feel her. Them. Snow and the demon both tugging me toward them.”
Danielle peered into the far hall. “It looks clear.”
“It’s not,” said Gerta. “The floor thins here so she can drop unwanted visitors into the lake. But I can get us through. The palace recognizes me now.”
Meaning Gerta was fading. Talia held her arm, helping her through the doorway. The air was colder here, making her shiver even through the heavy furs.
Gerta stumbled. “It feels like she’s trying to drown me.”
“Stay with us.” Talia began to sing an old Arathean song about a queen’s journey into the desert to rescue her lover from a deev. She kept her voice low, pitched for Gerta’s ears alone.
“I thought . . . you hated to sing.”
“I do.” Talia gave a gentle pull, guiding Gerta onward. “Does it help?”
“It’s beautiful.”
One tortured step at a time, they made their way down the hallway. Three more times Gerta stopped, and each time Talia feared they had lost her. If the demon took Gerta now, it could attack them all through her, and everything they had done would be for nothing. But each time, Gerta pushed herself onward, leading them through one trap after another until they reached the door.
It opened at Gerta’s touch, swinging inward to reveal a broad, domed room. Snowdrifts edged the floor, blending seamlessly with the walls and giving the illusion of an endless white plain.
“Welcome home, Sister.” Snow White sat upon a white throne in the center of the room. Blocks of ice formed a dais, a miniature glacier atop the frozen lake. Jakob sat to Snow’s left, shivering and playing with shards of ice. He didn’t appear to notice them.
“Jakob!” Danielle started forward.
“Wait.” Only
the sharpness of Talia’s tone halted Danielle’s rush toward her son.
“Thank you for returning her to me,” said Snow. She wore a sleeveless white gown. Her skin was even paler than usual, and her lips had lost their color. Both of her eyes were open, but one was scarred and sallow. Even the strands of white in her hair blended almost invisibly into her surroundings, as if the palace were slowly consuming her. A crown of ice circled her brow, every spike gleaming like glass. She rose, and the edges of her gown clinked as she stepped down beside Jakob.
“Don’t touch him,” Danielle warned, short sword in hand. But it was twenty paces to Snow’s throne. The demon would strike them all down before anyone could reach her.
“What was your plan?” Snow asked. “I know you won’t kill me. Danielle clings to the hope that I might yet be saved, and Talia lacks the strength to murder the woman she loves. You’re welcome to try, of course. You wouldn’t be the first to betray me.”
There was nothing of Snow White in her voice. Her body was taut, reminding Talia of a reptile poised to strike. She frowned, and sunlight shone from her crown, piercing the darkling and pinning it to the wall. It squealed and fought, but couldn’t break free.
“What was yours?” Talia countered. “To murder the people who tried to save you? To burn your homeland and entomb its nobles the same way your mother once did to you? To loose demons upon the world and watch it fall into ruin?”
“Not to burn, but to cleanse. Oh, Talia, you don’t understand what it’s like to finally see. The spirits you call demons will purge the lies and the corruption from this world.”
“What of joy?” Danielle asked. “Will you purge that, too?”
Snow tapped a foot to the floor. Her reflection shivered, and for a moment Talia saw not the demon but Snow White, unscarred and trapped within the icy mirror. “Your friend’s spirit survives, you know,” she said lightly. “It was Jakob who found that lingering shred of humanity, thinking it could save him. Kill me and you kill what remains of her as well.”
Talia stepped forward. As if that were a signal, cold winds swirled to life. She tried to cling to Gerta’s hand, but the wind ripped Talia away and flung her against the wall. Ice and snow all but blinded her, turning the others to mere shadows.
“Not that I mean to give you the chance,” Snow added.
“Talia!” She could hear Gerta’s cry, but couldn’t see her. And then the wind weakened enough for Talia to push away.
Gerta clung to Danielle’s arm for support. Her eyes were squeezed shut, fists knotted.
“You’re trying to possess a demon?” There was no strain in Snow’s voice. She sounded delighted, as though a pet had just learned an unexpected trick. “Not even Snow White was bold enough to try that.”
Gerta crumpled to the ground. She turned toward Talia. “Please . . .”
“I won’t let her take you,” Talia promised. Tears froze on her cheeks.
Snow’s voice hardened. “She was mine from the moment I created her.”
Gerta’s lips moved in unison with Snow’s. Her face had gone slack. Whatever magic she had used to try to control the demon—to try to protect Talia—had merely opened her to the demon’s power.
Talia lunged to the side, stepping between Snow and the darkling. The sunlight was warm, but didn’t burn human flesh the way it did the fairy. The darkling dropped to all fours behind her. “Do it,” Talia snapped.
The darkling scrambled forward, its body smoldering from Snow’s attack. Snow’s crown flared with light, but Talia kept herself ahead of the darkling, protecting it as it crawled not toward Snow, but to Gerta. It tugged her onto her back, then pressed a single finger to Gerta’s left eye.
A scream filled the palace, shared by Snow and Gerta alike. The winds died, and the sunlight blinked away. Talia raced to Gerta. “Are you—”
Gerta rolled onto her side, clutching her ruined eye. White dust trailed from her fingers. “I can feel her pain, and her fury.”
Talia hesitated.
Gerta pushed her away. “Go, damn it!”
Danielle was already running toward Jakob. Talia tore herself from Gerta and ran after Snow. She reached into her jacket, pulling out the magic-inhibiting chain they had taken from the palace. She had braided rope handles through the end links the night before, while the others slept. She grabbed one handle in each hand, tugging the chain taut.
Snow held one hand to her eye. In her other, she had created a sword of ice. She blinked her good eye, as if trying to focus. Talia ran faster, nearly slipping on the ice. She had to strike while the demon was disoriented.
Ice swirled around Snow’s body, forming armor that resembled clouded plates of quartz. She stabbed her blade into the floor and waved a hand at Talia. Danielle cried a warning as the shards Jakob had been playing with tore from his grasp and flew through the air. Two struck Talia, but the giant’s magic protected her. The darkling was less fortunate. Three shards pierced its chest, and it fell, blackness seeping over the ice.
Snow snatched up her sword. Talia dropped into a slide, kicking Snow’s legs and sending her face-first to the ice. Talia slammed into the edge of the dais and pushed herself to her feet. As Snow rose, Talia kicked the sword from her hand and swung the chain like a whip, looping it around Snow’s neck. Talia grabbed the other end and pulled tight, crossing the links to form a circle that dug into the ice protecting Snow’s throat.
Icy claws bloodied Talia’s forearms. The demon was too strong, pushing herself up even as Talia tried to hold her. Talia kicked the back of Snow’s knees, trying to keep her off-balance.
Snow lurched backward, slamming them both onto the dais. From the sharp pain in Talia’s side, the impact had either bruised or broken a rib. She twisted the rope handles together, clutching them in one hand, and drew her knife.
“Go ahead,” Snow said, her voice harsh. “Murder the woman you love. You’ll be killing Gerta as well. How long will you survive with those deaths upon your heart?”
In the edge of her vision, Talia saw more of the white monsters enter the room. She couldn’t feel her fingers anymore. Blood covered her arms, dripping toward her hands.
Snow’s elbow cracked the back of Talia’s hand, and the knife fell away. Snow bucked, and it was all Talia could do to hold on to the chain.
She could hear Danielle shouting to her son, telling him she was sorry. Sorry for what, Talia didn’t know. Gerta lay unmoving on the ice, ignored by the creatures that spread to surround the throne. Talia pulled harder, but the armor kept the links from cutting off Snow’s breath.
And then Danielle was there, clutching her sword in both hands. Blood trickled down the edge, though Talia hadn’t seen her stab anyone with it. Perhaps Danielle had used it against one of the monsters.
No . . . it wasn’t their blood. It was Jakob’s blood. Fairy blood. Jakob was huddled behind the throne, and his left hand was bleeding.
Snow saw, too, and she stopped struggling. When she spoke next, she sounded almost like herself. “Danielle. You were my friend.”
“I always will be.” Danielle raised the sword.
Talia buried her face in Snow’s hair. She could feel the impact as Danielle drove the sword into Snow’s side. Snow grunted. Her armor cracked and began to fall away.
Gerta screamed. Talia could see her clutching her side.
“Gerta could still live,” Snow wheezed. “Release the chain. I give you my word Gerta will survive.”
“Don’t let go,” Gerta yelled.
Danielle had turned to face Snow’s creatures. She held her sword in one hand, and picked up Snow’s ice blade with her other. Danielle wasn’t the best student, but her years of practice with Talia had paid off. Despite the odds, Danielle stood in a low, balanced stance, her body relaxed. It wouldn’t be enough, but Talia had no doubt she would take several of the creatures with her.
They didn’t attack. Over the pounding of her blood, Talia made out the sound of Gerta chanting a spell. Her voice was weak b
ut determined.
“I know what you left behind, Talia,” Snow whispered. “Your throne. Your lover. Your children. You could have them all back again.”
“You wouldn’t want them,” said Danielle. “You’d look upon your home and see only ugliness. Your children would be repulsive to your sight.”
“Shut up. Both of you.” Talia closed her eyes. Snow’s hair was damp with sweat and melted ice. Her body was so cold, making Talia want to pull her closer, to share her own warmth.
“Took you long enough to get here.”
Talia’s eyes snapped open. The voice was Snow’s, but without the bitter edge of the demon. It had come from within the ice. In the blood-smeared reflection, she saw herself clutching the necklace around Snow White’s throat, but in that reflection Snow had turned around to face her, a weary smile on her face.
“Snow?” Talia whispered.
“I tried, Talia. As soon as the mirror cracked, I felt it reaching for me. I realized what my mother had done. I tried to fight it—”
“It’s not your fault.” Talia’s voice broke. A part of her wondered if this was the demon’s doing, a trick to get her to release the chain. If so, she didn’t care.
“It is.” Snow’s smile fell. “I tried to cheat death. I couldn’t let go of Beatrice. I’m sorry, Talia.”
“Beatrice? What does—” Talia frowned, remembering Snow’s behavior after Bea’s death. Snow had created Gerta, a fully formed woman, from nothingness. It would have taken months to prepare such a spell . . . a spell to create a new body, one which could receive the spirit of another. “Oh, Snow.”
“I couldn’t let the demon escape. I knew Gerta would figure it out. In my daydreams, she was almost as clever as me.” Snow’s smile was full of mischief, even as her words grew faint. “Tell Danielle to make sure Jakob gets a good teacher. He’s a gifted one.”
“I will.” Talia almost let go, wanting only to touch the reflection in the ice. “The mirror wouldn’t have held forever. If not you, someone else would have broken the glass. Someone less able to fight this thing.”
