“I wouldn’t count on it,” Giselle murmured, staring with fascination at an intricate chandelier of ice hanging from the ceiling.
I couldn’t imagine the point of it since I felt certain it would never hold candles.
“Oh, I’m not counting on anything,” I said. “Believe me.”
“Good,” said Giselle.
Despite her lack of further comment, I winced. I hadn’t forgotten that she had told me not to go to the forbidden hut back in the village. Or that I had frozen when the snow leopard attacked. For every time I had saved her, there was another occasion where I had let her down. Neither of us could afford for this time to be anything but a success.
No matter how many rooms we explored, we found no other people. In fact, we found nothing at all that wasn’t made of ice. Nothing that made the palace look lived in at all.
Although the layout was different, it reminded me a little of what the Eldonian palace could have been like without the warm touches of velvet and wood. Back before the hand of the servant-turned-queen, Estelle, transformed it. No wonder she had decided to take on a decoration project.
When we found the first room that contained something other than ice, my thoughts were once more directed back to the true palace. The display room reminded me forcibly of the Eldonian one, although this one held fewer jewels and more domed pedestals. The domes were made of the thinnest of ice, instead of glass, of course. But there was no mistaking the similarity.
My eyes skimmed over them all, noting how many were empty. Waiting for future treasures? Or the home of objects currently in use? I peered at one that held two combs, simple in design but elegantly carved. The stand was clearly made to hold three, and I wondered if they were useless without the third or whether each of the combs held a different enchantment.
Glancing back at Giselle, I jolted and called a wordless warning. She started and looked at me guiltily, pulling back her hand just before touching one of the domes.
“Who knows what powers these hold?” she said. “One of them might help us defeat this Snow Queen.”
“Yes, it might,” I said. “But it might just as likely kill us. And how are we to know the difference? They’ve all been tainted by her, remember. However good their purpose may have been originally.”
Giselle paled even further than her already chilly coloring, and we both hurried from the room. Not long afterward, we stumbled across a second room that held something more than ice. And once again the room seemed to mirror something from the true palace. This time something that was common to most palaces. A portrait gallery.
“Well,” said Giselle, after we strode silently down its length. “This is different.”
“It’s…” I didn’t know quite how to finish the sentence. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Self-obsessed, would you say?” Giselle suggested.
I nodded wordlessly. Where a normal royal portrait gallery held the painted likenesses of generations of royals, this gallery portrayed only one person. Painting after painting of a single woman in various poses.
Her hair at first glance appeared white but, as I examined one painting more closely, I realized it was white blond, as leached of color as the rest of her. Even the blue pigment of her eyes was so pale that I could see the red of her blood vessels shining through. Everything about her face made me shiver, an unnatural quality to it that I suspected had more to do with the model than any lack of skill in the artist.
“Celine!” Giselle’s sharp cry drew my attention away from what could only be yet another image of the Snow Queen herself.
Giselle had wandered away, reaching the end of the gallery ahead of me, and was fixedly regarding something there. I hurried to catch up, eager to see what had caught her attention.
“This one isn’t the Snow Queen,” she said as I reached her.
I came to a sudden stop, my mouth falling open. “No,” I finally said slowly, “it most certainly is not.”
It was, however, a recognizable portrait. Here at the end of the gallery, a single painting depicted someone other than the Snow Queen. A large image of the long-dead Queen Estelle. The image was well done, there could be no doubt of her identity. But, at the same time, she looked different. Determined still, but nothing of the sweetness showed. If anything, her face held a hint of calculation that didn’t quite sit naturally.
“But why…” My question trailed off as Giselle pointed at something beside the portrait.
Like the painting of the queen back in the capital, this one hung beside a domed pedestal. Only this one wasn’t empty. It held shimmering folds of material that I thought might be a cloak. An old-fashioned design that I had seen in old portraits.
“What does it mean?” I asked, after looking back and forth between the pedestal and the painting several times.
“I have no idea,” said Giselle. “But I get the sense there’s a story here. And that one of those objects back there might extend life. Because this feels personal. I think this Snow Queen woman knew my great-grandmother.”
Our pace increased after that, both of us even more on edge than we had been before. The continued emptiness of the palace was more than eerie, and I could only hope that Valley View had an unusually law-abiding populace and not that the Snow Queen made a habit of disposing of lawbreakers on arrival.
I reminded myself that Oliver was a crown prince. And that the Snow Queen’s servant had expertly manipulated him here. She must have some purpose for him beyond death. If assassination had been her aim, Sterling could have achieved it on our journey up the mountain easily enough.
Finally, on the second level, we found a bedchamber that actually contained a bed covered in blankets and furs. A pack sat in a corner and several items of male clothing lay draped across a chair. Although none of it looked familiar, Giselle and I still looked at each with excited eyes. We were not alone here.
Unfortunately, we found no further such evidence. An enormous suite looked as if it must be meant for the queen herself but, if so, she apparently had no need for real blankets. And I couldn’t quite determine if the gowns that hung in the wardrobes were made of material or ice.
The Snow Queen might once have been human, but surely she could not count as one anymore. Not if this was her bedchamber.
Soon after that we found a small staircase that led straight down. A servant stair, no doubt. Giselle’s energy seemed to rise as we descended lower.
“If there is anyone here, it makes sense they would be down in the servants’ quarters. We should have started by going down instead of up.”
I didn’t entirely share her enthusiasm, but I did feel a faint stirring of hope. Surely anyone forced to work for years in such a strange and unnatural place would be glad to see us and eager to help us defeat the Snow Queen.
A glow of warmth around my hands attracted my attention, and I quickly clamped my fingers into fists. When had I begun to flame?
I watched a single drop of water run down the wall and shuddered. I had every intention of burning this place to the ground before I left, but not while we were down in the lower levels. My eyes tracked back up the staircase. How many tons of water stood frozen above us? Exploring this place had not been wasted effort. I needed to assure myself no one remained inside before I could bring it down.
My fists clenched tighter. No one but the Snow Queen, that is. If she was made of ice instead of flesh, she could melt along with her palace. Anyone who would willingly freeze an entire kingdom of people needed to be stopped.
The servants’ quarters we found looked no more lived in than the guest suites upstairs. And a long empty room that looked like it might be meant as a laundry held nothing at all. The last bit of hope for this level had dwindled to almost nothing when a sound hit my ears. I looked up.
“Was that…?”
“I don’t know,” said Giselle. “But I definitely heard something.”
Together we broke into a run, heading up the corridor in the opposite directi
on to our previous progress, following a quiet rhythmic sound that continued to echo through the silence. We pushed through a wide door, shoulder to shoulder, and stumbled into another large room.
The emptiness of this place had gotten under my skin more than I realized because the need for caution hadn’t even entered my head. Giselle seemed equally affected, actually grinning at the sight of a man calmly chopping potatoes. Until he raised his head, and we got a look at his face.
I stepped immediately away from Giselle, fire balls springing to life above my now outstretched hands.
“Very impressive, Princess Celine,” said Sterling, his voice calm and slow. “No less so than the first time I saw them. I was hoping we wouldn’t see you here, but I rather suspected we might.”
His otherwise emotionless voice seemed to carry the faintest undercurrent of mockery. I narrowed my eyes.
“You shouldn’t have doubted me.”
He gave a small bow, his hands not leaving the vegetables. “My sincere apologies. I shan’t do so again.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t be giving you the opportunity.” My fire balls bounced slightly, as if eager to be set loose, and yet I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw them at a man calmly chopping potatoes. However much of a lying traitor he had turned out to be.
“Where’s Oliver?” Giselle demanded from a half step behind me.
“With Her Majesty, I suppose,” said Sterling, looking back at his task.
“You suppose?” I slammed both my fists down onto the table, my fire extinguishing as I balled my hands. But enough warmth remained behind that the table steamed around my skin.
Sterling’s eyes returned to mine. “I believe she means to keep him with her always.”
Something about the way his eyes tightened ever so slightly and his mouth quirked gave me the impression that he knew I felt more for Oliver than friendship and enjoyed the pain his words might cause.
I kept my expression tight, refusing to let him see the pang that his statement sent through me.
“We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, I suppose we shall.” The methodical chopping sound resumed. When both Giselle and I remained frozen in place, he looked back up.
“You’re too late, you know. You can’t win here. Not even with all your…” He waved the tip of his knife toward the steaming table.
“You know nothing of my power,” I hissed.
“No, I don’t suppose I do,” he said thoughtfully. “But I have some experience with Her Majesty’s power. And she has already gripped your precious princeling in more ways than one. I don’t think you’ll find he even wants to leave.”
I swallowed, struggling to keep my face neutral. Surely he could not have been re-infected already? But then we were now in the heart of her powers. Who knew what she could do?
Drawing a breath, I forced a shrug. “Then we’ll just have to convince him.”
Sterling also shrugged and resumed chopping, but his eyes strayed back up to me, a gleam of curiosity and something else in them.
“Is it an object that you wield, princess from beyond our lands? Because it seems the godmothers have gifted you, indeed.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching him closely. His eyes roved over me, as if searching for a significant piece of jewelry or other object likely to hold such power. And I recognized the second emotion in his eyes. Avarice.
Sterling wanted my gift. Badly.
“No…” I said slowly, seeing no reason to lie. “I carry no object. The gift is in me.”
“Ah. Pity.” He turned away, but not before I saw the disappointment in his face.
Where was it I had seen Sterling before Eldon? Marin, he had said. Another distant memory surfaced. Of Palinar, before the wedding. Princes Jonathan and Dominic had asked me to keep an eye out for a man who had escaped during their final battle to free Palinar from the usurpers who had attempted to claim it. A man they believed had taken an enchanted object and fled into Eldon before the fighting began. A man who had already helped someone escape from a prison in Marin. Sudden understanding washed over me.
“Back in Valley View, they said you have long served the Snow Queen,” I said. “And yet I saw you in Marin. You serve her by seeking out enchanted objects, do you not? To grow her collection.”
He stilled for a moment. “Impressive. Your understanding is quicker than I expected.” When he looked up to meet my eyes, there was no shame or regret in his own. “Certainly that is my role. Her Majesty can no longer leave her snowy realm to search them out herself.”
Was that love in his eyes? Did he love this Snow Queen? But, no, that wasn’t quite it. Obsession then, perhaps? With her, or with the power she wielded?
“How can you?” I asked, the words bursting from me. “How can you serve such a person?”
He looked up at me, something like scorn in his expression. “Her Majesty wields power such as you can’t even imagine. She provides resources I could never hope to match on my own. And she is generous with the power she does not need.” His words cut off suddenly as if he’d said more than he intended.
I eyed him with narrowed eyes. So he got to keep some of the objects, did he? I thought of the empty pedestals in the display hall. What had he done with them?
After a moment of silent chopping, he continued, as if unable to help himself. “But soon that will all change. Soon she will wed the princeling and descend from her mountain fastness to take her true throne. Soon all of Eldon will be hers. And then she will have even more power to bestow upon her truest servants.”
My heart seized at his words, although I had already suspected it.
“Oliver would never marry this queen of yours,” said Giselle, disgust heavy in her tone.
“Won’t he, lass?” Sterling gave the ghost of a laugh. “I don’t think you’ll find he has any interest in gainsaying her. And once he is king—which will be soon enough, I imagine, given the state in which we left the capital—there will be no force to prevent the spread of her authority.”
I struggled to breathe, leaning heavily on the table as I fought to shrug off the weight of his words. That would never come to pass. Never.
“I thought you said she couldn’t leave this mountain,” said Giselle. I had expected her to be horrified at his casual reference to her parents’ death, but she sounded merely angry.
“No,” he said, drawing out the word, as if he enjoyed the conversation. From the look of this place, he didn’t get many. “I said she couldn’t leave her snowy realm. But you saw how her power spreads already. Soon all of Eldon will meet that criteria.”
My mouth actually dropped open as the full extent of her plan crashed over me. I had suspected she wanted Oliver and his throne. But I had thought the winter and the frozen people a means to that end, not an end in itself. I looked around the large, mostly empty kitchen. I needed no more evidence that this was a queen who would happily rule a kingdom almost devoid of people.
“She can’t really mean to kill everyone and turn Eldon into an icy wasteland,” I managed to choke out.
Sterling looked at me, almost quizzically. “Why ever not?”
“But…all the people,” said Giselle, coming to lean on the table beside me as though her legs had grown weak. “She can’t!”
“I think,” said Sterling, “you’ll find she can. And I suspect a few of the strongest will survive. She might even lift their enchantment enough to let them serve her.” He stopped to ponder his words. “Yes, she might well do that.”
I wanted to burn the kitchen down around him at his words, but curiosity restrained me. He seemed to be enjoying speaking freely as his true self rather than the front he had shown us previously. And I had questions I wanted answered.
“The cave in,” I said. “That wasn’t you, was it?”
I had expected him to look confused, but instead he looked contemptuous.
“Of course it was me. Her Majesty wouldn’t have entrusted the task to anyone else, I assure you.�
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“But she needs Oliver,” said Giselle. “You just said that. Why would you try to kill him?”
“Kill him?” Sterling’s knife continued to descend in methodical rhythm. “Of course I didn’t intend to kill him. I would have ensured the rock landed on his head if that had been my aim. I merely wanted to trap him for a while. To weaken him enough to allow—” He cut himself off abruptly, eyeing us briefly. “Suffice to say I had a means of getting him up the mountain, but it required him to be a little less energetic. And since the queen’s enchantment wore off unexpectedly, I had to improvise another way.”
He looked at me. “I suppose you were responsible for that. I don’t suppose you’d tell me how?”
He paused, but I said nothing, and he sighed. “No, I didn’t think so. After your unexpected escape from the tunnels, I’ll admit I became a little cautious. I don’t like having elements at play that I don’t understand.” He eyed me again, and I glared at him.
After a moment, he continued. “But it eventually became clear that I had no need to force Oliver up the mountain. His desperation had grown to the point that I needed only to spin the truth a little, to give him an appealing enough story that he would follow me of his own volition. I didn’t even have to make most of it up.”
I closed my eyes briefly. The most convincing lies always held some measure of truth.
“You told us a story about an orphan girl turned princess.” After seeing the bizarre portrait gallery, I couldn’t help myself asking him about it. “Was that part true? Did you speak of Queen Estelle?”
He looked between us. “You’ve been in the portrait gallery, then?” He shook his head. “I suppose even the most powerful of us have our weaknesses.” The thought seemed to give him pause, and he fell silent.
“What is the connection between them?” I prodded him. “And what was the object beside her portrait?”
For a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he shrugged. A shadow filled his eyes, and he seemed distracted still by whatever earlier thought had made him pause.
“As you guessed, the deserving orphan girl from my story was Estelle. And she was real enough. She was also the servant in a noble household. A household with a daughter her own age.”
A Crown of Snow and Ice: A Retelling of The Snow Queen (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 3) Page 22
