Of Giants and Ice (Ever Afters, The)

by Bach, Shelby

  On one side of the ledge was a glass wall, just like the one in the office. On the other side was a maze of crisscrossing panes of glass, full of rooms and corridors and hallways. I sincerely hoped we wouldn’t have to go down there. We might never find our way back.

  Chase’s eyes traced the maze too. “I wonder where all the people are.”

  “What people?”

  “She’s supposed to have, like, a hundred servants,” Chase said.

  Then with every step, I worried that someone was going to appear behind us.

  Every fifteen feet, a portrait of the Snow Queen hung from the railing above the maze. I only examined the first one closely. The Queen was in profile, so pale that she looked like she was covered in frost. She looked a lot younger than I expected her to be, not much older than Rapunzel. She held her chin high, defiantly, as if she saw an army coming for her just beyond the frame. In each portrait, her crown changed—one with towering icicles, one covered in delicate filigree like airy snowflakes, another brilliant with diamonds, but her position and her expression didn’t. She always looked beautiful and cruel.

  She also looked like Rapunzel’s carving.

  The ledge curved, and the maze of glass panes gave way to one enormous room, bigger even than the giants’ kitchen. It was bare, except for the long glass table that ran from one end to the other and the trolls and wolves standing like guards at the edge of the room.

  “I guess we know why the maze was empty,” Chase whispered.

  He hadn’t noticed the two figures at the end of the table closest to us, a hundred feet below.

  The railing was glass too—we couldn’t hide behind it—so I ducked behind the closest portrait and dragged Chase down with me. I pointed out the two figures—Jack seated at the head of the table and the young woman pouring something yellow and syrupy into his goblet. Her back was to us.

  “Fey honey mead,” Chase whispered in disgust. “How did she know?”

  “Know what?”

  “My dad’s allergic to it or something. It affects him in a weird way,” Chase said. “He doesn’t always remember what happens when he has it.”

  “Then maybe he won’t drink it,” I said, but then Jack reached for the glass and threw his head back carelessly. It didn’t seem like this was his first serving.

  “He loves that stuff.” Chase looked furious. “Don’t ask me why. It tastes like dirt, honey, and grape juice gone sour.”

  “Delicious,” we heard Jack say. “Can’t get mead like this just anywhere.”

  “I can see how you might find my prison pleasant,” said the cold musical voice we had heard in the office. It came from the woman with the pitcher. “But it wouldn’t feel so luxurious if you couldn’t walk through those doors whenever you chose.”

  She turned, and I recognized her. She was the girl I had seen in Ms. White’s mirror. She was the Snow Queen.

  Her portrait didn’t do her justice. She was very beautiful, but it was a dangerous kind of beauty, like ice glittering in the sun, dazzling you while you slowly froze to death.

  Jack certainly seemed a little dazzled anyway.

  Chase wrinkled his nose. “Thawed isn’t a good look for her. See how yellow she is? And her hands are puffy.”

  “It does get terribly lonely here,” the Snow Queen said. “Surrounded by guards and servants. I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you came to visit. It’s such a delight to have someone to talk to.”

  Jack didn’t say anything, but he looked flattered. He held his empty glass up to her.

  She refilled his glass with a smile, bending her head elegantly. Her shadow fell across him, and I knew something terrible was going to happen.

  From the frozen look of horror on his face, I was pretty sure Chase felt the same way.

  “I’m allowed so few comforts.” The Snow Queen sighed. “Perhaps a nice bottle here and there. A vase of flowers from an old friend. But nothing the slightest bit magical. No magic mirrors. Not even a singing harp.”

  Chase and I looked at each other. “She really wants that harp,” I whispered.

  “I would be more than willing to pay for such an extravagance,” the Snow Queen continued. “I do have a little of my own money left, but Mildred is so strict. Terribly unfair. I’ve heard that she’s not always fair toward you, either.”

  “I can’t say that,” Jack said, so swiftly that I was proud of him. “She builds her reputation on being fair. I couldn’t complain about that.”

  Chase winced.

  “They say that she doesn’t appreciate what you do.” The Snow Queen began to smile, and it was awful. You could practically see her plotting. “Someone like you, a Giant-Killer. In centuries past, the Canon would have covered you in the glory you deserve.”

  “A little more appreciation would be nice,” said Jack, and Chase looked furious again. “She has me sit in these meetings, and she sends me to the dwarves; to the mountain trolls, rock trolls, and ice trolls; to the valley elves—”

  “Shut up,” Chase whispered fiercely, but of course, his father couldn’t hear.

  “They do mention you, you know,” the Snow Queen said. “Those outside the Canon. They know what kind of a warrior you are. They haven’t stopped talking about the way you defeated Habbilar the Magnificent. Slew Cosid the Odd with his own sword.”

  This was why it was so easy for her to win allies. She found out exactly what you wanted, and she offered it to you but at a terrible price.

  “Oh, you heard about that.” Jack scratched the back of his head. “We didn’t really mean to kill Cosid. The Director just sent me to check on him, to see where his loyalties were and all. He wasn’t in a talking mood. More of a fighting mood. A killing mood, actually.”

  “Mildred has asked you to visit her allies?” the Snow Queen said politely.

  “Don’t tell her that,” Chase whispered.

  “Maybe if we sent him a message, threw something at him—” I had a vision of writing a note and sailing a paper airplane over to the table.

  But even Jack wasn’t that stupid. He only sipped from his glass and stared at the Snow Queen, looking a little guilty.

  Chase relaxed.

  The Snow Queen set the pitcher down and pulled up the chair next to Jack. “Don’t mind me. I’m just making conversation. I must be a little out of practice.” She rested her elbows on the table and dropped her chin to the palm of her hand. Looking through her lashes innocently, she sent Jack a brilliant smile until he smiled back crookedly.

  “Tell me about the children,” she said. “I’m always interested in the children. I’m sure Mildred has some new ones by now. This Rory Landon, for instance.”

  My stomach dropped a little bit. I thought I hadn’t heard right, but Chase looked at me, waiting for me to react. I peeked further around the portrait we were hiding behind, trying to get a better look.

  “Chase talks about her all the time,” Jack said. “Personally, I don’t see what the big deal is. They say that she half-blinded a dragon in Yellowstone, but I’m not so sure that it wasn’t my son. Why would Chase bring his sword into the lair and not use it? Ridiculous.”

  The Snow Queen didn’t move, but her gaze slid sideways. She looked up, straight at me. Her eyes were almost colorless, the pale blue of glacier ice.

  I knew suddenly how dangerous she was. She wouldn’t just come after me. She would come after Chase and Lena and Rapunzel. She would enter the human world and charm Mom and Amy so easily. They wouldn’t recognize the danger until it was too late.

  “She sees us,” I told Chase, my mouth dry.

  “But Sarah Thumb says she’s going to change things, change the Tales,” Jack continued, oblivious.

  “Good.” Chase stood up, where any minion could see him, and shouted, “Dad, if you say one more word about my friend Rory, I’ll break every window in your truck!”

  Jack’s mouth fell open. My mouth fell open.

  I don’t know what surprised me more: the part where Chase comp
letely gave us away, the part where he got mad at his dad, or the part where he called me his friend.

  The Snow Queen lost no time. She gestured to one of her servants, and the guards at the edge of the room began to file out. They were coming.

  “Run. Run now,” I said, grabbing Chase’s hand and sprinting back the way we came.

  We rounded the corner at full speed. Bulky figures wove through the maze of glass panes, trolls with spears and huge wolves, and I pushed myself faster.

  “There’s the portrait with the icicle crown,” I said hoarsely, pointing. “It’s the next door on the right.”

  “Crap. The carpet,” Chase panted. I looked down. It moved backward under our feet, so we made about as much headway as if we ran the wrong way on a conveyor belt.

  It was like a cartoon. Or like one of those nightmares where you’re running and running and not going anywhere, and the bad guys keep getting closer and closer. Chase pointed behind us. The Snow Queen walked up, only twenty feet away. The carpet didn’t give her any trouble.

  Up close, I realized what Chase meant about her being yellow. Her hair looked as flat and dry as straw. Her skin was the same shade as half-melted slush with a little mud mixed in.

  She smiled, the same terrible smile.

  She was too close. She would catch us. She would catch Chase and blackmail Jack into doing something awful, something far worse than accidentally leaking information.

  I had to get him out.

  I snatched her portrait off the rail—the one with the icicle crown—and flung it at her.

  Glass shattered, but I didn’t turn around to look.

  I grabbed Chase and pulled us off the moving carpet.

  “Not me!” we heard the Snow Queen say. “After them!”

  We slipped a little on the glass, almost sliding past the office. Chase snagged the door frame and swung us inside. The dark doorway in the glass wall was still open. Trolls in hockey masks clattered into the room behind us, shouting for us to stop.

  Chase and I ran into the dark.

  The cold wasn’t so terrible this time, maybe because I was expecting it. I only had time for a few shivers before I tripped on wood.

  Humongous papers loomed all around us. Lena hovered over me anxiously. We were back at the desk.

  Chase moaned and slumped over.

  “Chase? Chase!” I tapped his face gently.

  His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  “Don’t go to sleep, Chase. Are you wounded? You have to tell me where.” I squinted, but the light was too faint for me to see. “What happened to the flashlight? Why is everything so dark?”

  “The battery’s running out. You two were gone for a long time,” Lena said softly. She was using that quiet, slow voice that she only used when she was trying to keep me from freaking out. She walked over to the Snow Queen’s letter and touched it carefully. Her hand stopped at the paper. “As I thought, the spell is out of magic. It had to work hard for six transports so close together.”

  I didn’t care much for the spell right then, not when it looked like Chase was unconscious. “But Chase—”

  “That’s why he was knocked out,” Lena said calmly. “The spell had to take energy from you two to send you back. Aren’t you tired?”

  Now that she mentioned it, I was suddenly exhausted. My hands shook, my head spun, and my eyelids drooped.

  Lena shoved one of Matilda’s potato chips in my hands. “Eat this. Food will help. You and Chase will be fine after a little sleep.”

  It was hard to let go of the sense of impending doom. “The Snow Queen was after us. And her guards. If they come through the letter—”

  “They can’t,” Lena said in the same quiet voice. “I told you. The magic’s all used up. It’ll be a while before she can gather enough power to send even one person. I would say we have at least twenty-four hours.” Even in the dim light, I could see that she wasn’t as calm as she sounded. Her face was strained. It must’ve been awful for her, waiting for me and Chase.

  I hated to make her worry. I nibbled a little on the chip and tried to take longer breaths.

  “You have to tell me what happened before you pass out too,” Lena said. It was the same thing George had told Evan when he had returned from the White Snake Tale. For some reason, that calmed me the most. If we had come out of the Glass Mountain with all our fingers and toes, we couldn’t be that bad off.

  I told her.

  Everything seemed much more serious watching Lena react to it. Fear crept into her eyes when I got to the lists. She seemed unsurprised when I described Jack’s stupidity, but when I mentioned how I recognized the Snow Queen from Ms. White’s mirror, when I said that the Queen asked about me, Lena sent me such a worried look that I knew I couldn’t pretend anymore. It was definitely me, the newcomer everyone was talking about. I was like the Snow Queen somehow, and she was part of my stupid Destiny.

  I was too tired to care. Sometime in the middle of describing our escape, still mumbling about the dark doorway and the guards in hockey masks, I slid to the floor beside Chase, fast asleep.

  e have to go!”

  Lena’s fierce whisper nearly woke me up, but for an instant, I was still half-dreaming. I still saw the ancient door with the Snow Queen’s symbol hanging from the doorknob. For the first time, I noticed the wood was covered in frost. My breath hung white in the air. I knew the fate of the world depended on what was on the other side, and I knew I had to go in alone.

  It was also the third time I had dreamed of that door.

  “Rory, get up! Chase!” Lena snapped. “They’re back.”

  A door—the front door—swung open with a squeal, and there was Jimmy’s voice. “I hate red-eye flights.”

  I sat up with a start.

  “Five more minutes,” Chase complained sleepily, and I clapped a hand over his mouth. He opened one eye and scowled at me, and I pointed outside.

  “I’m sorry, dear. I was just so eager to get home.” Matilda had come back too. “Besides, what’s the point of having a magic carpet if you don’t use it whenever you want?”

  There was the thud of two humongous suitcases and the swish of very heavy feet wiping their shoes.

  “Well, you better pay that bill if it was so important that we had to rush back,” said Jimmy.

  “Hide!” Lena whispered.

  Each of us sprinted for a cubbyhole. The desk cover slid up with a rumble, and the light blinded me. I squeezed my eyes shut and walked farther into the desk, keeping one hand on the wall. I tripped over a forgotten pencil.

  “It has to be around here somewhere,” Matilda said. “I left it someplace where I could— Oh my goodness!”

  I froze, sure that one of us had been discovered.

  “Honey!” Matilda said, calling over her shoulder. “It looks like we had a visitor while we were gone.”

  “Do I need to get the flyswatter?”

  “No, no, it looks like the safe already got him,” said Matilda, and I breathed again. She had only found Ferdinand.

  Claws clicked on the hard floors below, and then the sulfur smell that Lena had mentioned drifted toward me.

  “Oh, no,” Matilda said as a familiar eerie song filled the desk—like the Jaws theme with an extra hissing note. “Jimmy, can you come get Sparkia? Last time, she flew up on the desk and burned half of my poems.”

  Burned? I wondered, and my spine went cold. Opening my eyes, I edged toward the opening carefully.

  “Good riddance,” Jimmy muttered.

  “What did you say?” Matilda asked in a sharp voice.

  “Just grab her by the collar and pull her off the table,” Jimmy called back.

  I peered around the corner of the cubbyhole, just in time to watch Matilda curl her hand around Sparkia’s collar. I also saw Sparkia’s talons on the edge of the desk, her green-gold scales, and her yellow bulging eyes, staring at me.

  A plume of fire unfurled in my direction.

  “Stop it,
Sparkia! Bad dragon!”

  I stepped back quickly. A loose paper five feet from me caught on fire. It burnt to cinders in just a few seconds. The smoke seared my lungs, and I pressed both hands over my mouth. One cough would give me away.

  “What’s she doing, Matty?” Jimmy called.

  “She just went crazy!” Matilda’s voice sounded strained, and the dragon’s claws scratched against the wood. They were struggling with each other. “Breathing fire and trying to get on the desk.”

  “She probably just wants the hen. She hasn’t eaten in a while. Don’t hurt her. We can’t afford for Solange to be angry with us,” Jimmy said.

  “Rory,” a human-size voice said softly.

  I looked up, both hands still over my mouth. Chase stood in the opening of the cubbyhole and gestured for me to follow him.

  We snuck to the other edge of the desk. Seeing us, Sparkia lunged again, nearly breaking Matilda’s grip on her collar.

  Matilda grunted a little and turned back to yell at her husband. “Can you come help?”

  I stopped short when I noticed Jack Attack’s hook stuck into the wood and the rope hanging down to the floor. All the old fear came rushing back—plus the nausea, and the dizziness.

  Chase shot me a withering look. Jimmy’s footsteps thudded closer. On the ground, Lena watched us anxiously. Chase leaped off the desk, dragging me with him. He grabbed the rope to slow our descent, and it almost yanked my shoulder from its socket. I had just a second to feel terrified, and then our feet connected safely with the floor.

  I glared at him. “You suck.”

  “You really need to get over that heights thing,” he said, watching the dragon. Jimmy had Sparkia by the muzzle, telling her what a bad dragon she was and promising her a fatted calf if she behaved. I tried to remember bone names from all the crime shows I’d ever watched.

  “Femur,” I whispered, and Chase flinched. “Humerus. Scapula.”

  “Not now,” Lena said. “We need to get to the mousehole behind the desk.”

  Without another word, we ran along the wall, around the corner, and into the hole. Lena turned on her flashlight. It only had enough juice to show us four feet of the path ahead, so we had to walk slowly.