The Snow Queen's Shadow (27 page)

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 even 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?”

Bellum looked past Danielle to the darkling, and there was no hiding the hatred in her face. Veleris simply appeared sad. “We were unprepared to lead,” Veleris said softly. “As the war turned against us, Bellum and I, along with a few others, sought aid from the kings and queens of the other fairy hills. They refused. The Duchess was the only one willing to help such low-caste fairies as ourselves. She sent dwarves and goblins, the same fairies who built her own kingdom, to help us hide. She demanded only two things. The first was loyalty.”

Which would explain why the Duchess knew they would help Danielle. “And the second?”

“That not a single fairy of noble blood accompany us,” said Bellum.

Danielle exhaled, thinking back to what the giant had described of their battles with humans. “To save yourselves, you had to leave them behind to die.”

“As if they’d have listened to a giant. They refused to give up their homeland. They would have led us all to our deaths.”

Instead, with the nobles dead, Bellum and Veleris had been forced into leadership of the fairy refugees . . . and by their bargain, the Duchess commanded Bellum and Veleris.

“It’s how she operates,” Veleris said. “Conquering not through warfare, but through favors and obligations, entangling all who bargain with her.”

Including Danielle, and through her, Jakob.

Chains rattled outside the door, which swung open a moment later. Gerta was on one knee, scratching the dragon’s chin. Talia was damp and bedraggled, but both she and Gerta appeared unhurt. Danielle raised her eyebrows, indicating Gerta with a tilt of her head.

“She’ll help us,” Talia said flatly.

Bellum stared. Even Veleris appeared surprised, asking, “What did you threaten her with to accomplish that?”

“Leaving her here with you,” Talia shot back.

Veleris chuckled. Bellum simply scowled.

Danielle stepped between Talia and the giant before things could progress any further. “Bellum, what help can you give us?”

“We’ve told you what you have to do,” Bellum grumbled. “It’s up to you to figure out how to get close enough to Snow to stop her.”

“You can offer me in trade,” Gerta said quietly. She appeared almost calm, making Danielle wonder anew what had happened between her and Talia. “Tell Snow you’re willing to give me up in exchange for Jakob. If it gets us close enough—”

“Close enough for her mirror wasps to enslave you all, you mean?” asked Bellum. “She’ll own you before you ever reach her palace.”

Danielle frowned. “You know of her palace?”

“We’ve hidden ourselves away from your world.” Veleris glanced at the metal cone in the wall. “That doesn’t mean we’ve stopped listening. A few sprites still wander the surface. We listen, and we wait.”

“She’s built her fortress to the north,” said Bellum. “Where the mountains split, there is a lake shaped like a curving teardrop. She’s hidden herself well from human magic, but not from fairy eyes. If your darkling carries you, you could make the journey within two days.”

Two days to plan. Two days to find another way, one which didn’t involve sacrificing Snow and Gerta.

“The longer we wait, the more people will die,” said Gerta softly. “I think I know the lake she means. West of the summer palace. We ran away once and spent the night on the shore. Our mother sent one of her Deathcrows to retrieve us.” Her voice trailed off, her lips set in a grim line.

“You’ll need supplies,” said Bellum. She grabbed an oversized pair of fur-lined mittens and stuffed them into a sack. Next she opened a barrel of dried fish and began piling them onto an old sheet of parchment.

“Thank you,” Danielle said, trying to hide her surprise.

“She’s just trying to hurry you on your way.” Veleris winked. “And she’s giving you the oldest, toughest meat. Here, let me do that.” She slapped Bellum’s hand away and took over the preparations. “You’ll leave in the morning. You’re far too exhausted to set out now.”

Danielle glanced at her companions. She wanted to argue, but the fatigue on Gerta’s face matched her own. “Weapons would also speed us along. And perhaps a change of clothes that didn’t smell like bandit sweat?”

Talia snatched one of the fish and took a bite.

“Gerta . . .” Danielle swallowed. Gerta’s red hair was damp, her face weary, but the panic was gone from her eyes and her movements. Danielle searched for something to say, anything that might bring comfort.

“It’s all right,” said Gerta. “She’s my sister. This is what I was made for.”

“There has to be a way to send the demon back to wherever it came from,” Danielle protested.

Gerta shook her head. “Even if I could duplicate the magic my mother used to summon the demon . . . even if I were willing to try that kind of magic . . . the demon is stronger now. It has Snow’s power as well as its own. We might be able to kill it—”

“Doubtful,” Bellum scoffed.

“—but control it? No.” Gerta’s hand moved, almost as if she were reaching for Talia, but she stopped herself.

Danielle swallowed. “How do we trap the demon long enough to kill it? Won’t it try to escape to another host?”

“Gerta and I talked about that on our way back.” Talia reached into her pocket and pulled out the broken blue chain Laurence had used to suppress Gerta’s powers, back at the palace.

“It won’t hold for very long,” said Gerta. “It wasn’t designed to contain a demon, but the chain follows the principles of a binding circle. If you can secure it around Snow, I think it will last long enough to . . . to do what you must.”

“Save these until you’re on the road,” said Veleris as she finished wrapping the rest of the fish.

“Thank you.” Danielle bowed. “We’re in your debt, and I give you my word as Princess of Lorindar that none of us will reveal your secret.”

Veleris smiled. “Princess Whiteshore, you never would have found us without your darkling friend. You couldn’t lead another soul here if you tried.”

“Not that I expect you to live long enough to come looking,” added Bellum.

CHAPTER 21

D
ANIELLE SPENT THE NIGHT HAUNTED BY dreams of Jakob, trapped in an icy prison, searching and calling for her but unable to find her. When she tried to answer, her throat refused to obey, and her limbs were like stone. She awoke feeling even more exhausted than before.

Tommy guided them through the twisting tunnels to the surface. Danielle ate as she walked, forcing herself to finish a hard smoked roll that tasted of mushrooms and smoke and old meat.

The sun was low in the sky when they emerged, and Danielle shivered even within the bundled jacket and oversized mittens the giant had provided. Their weapons had also been returned, along with blankets, rope, and other supplies crammed into musty, dirt-stained packs.

Tommy jabbed his shovel to the northeast. “Head that way until you reach an old mining trail. It should take you the way you want to go.”

“Thank you,” said Danielle.

The knocker was already retreating through the small hole from which they had emerged. He raised his shovel in salute, then rapped it against the wooden frame of the entrance. The impact collapsed the drifted snow overhead, burying the way in.

Gerta used her boot to clear away the worst of the snow. She frowned, then dug deeper. Her efforts revealed nothing but snow and rock. “That’s a nice trick.”

The darkling shifted its form, becoming a pair of shadow-thin reindeer once more. Climbing onto the creature’s back was no less disturbing than the last time, but the darkling was the fastest way to reach the lake.

Danielle watched Gerta and Talia as they mounted the other reindeer, wondering what had happened in the mine. Gerta’s fear was still very much present, but the edge was gone. As for Talia, she was hurting, though she tried to hide it. The clipped tone of her words, the tension in her body . . . she meant to save Snow, no matter the cost. Danielle could see it in the way she moved, deliberate and purposeful.

Danielle prayed for the same, but if Bellum and Veleris were right and there was only one way to stop this demon . . . She prayed that it wouldn’t come to that, for all their sakes.

Talia scowled when she saw Danielle watching her. “Come on. The sooner we leave these damned fairies behind, the happier I’ll be.”

“Damned fairies?” Danielle repeated. “Does that include me as well?” The words sounded strange. In her mind, she was as human as Talia . . . though perhaps that wasn’t the best comparison, given the magic flowing through Talia’s blood.

“Don’t be stupid,” Talia snapped.

Danielle knew Talia well enough to know her barbs weren’t personal, her anger not directed at Danielle. “It changes things,” she said. “The people were wary enough when their prince married an ash-covered servant girl. What will they say to the revelation that their future ruler is less than fully human?”

Talia scowled. “Your lives—Jakob’s life—might be easier if certain things were kept secret.”

As they rode, Danielle found herself thinking of the bargain the Duchess had reached with the fairies of Speas Elan. The fairies of Allesandria had been hunted down, nearly driven into extinction, but was Lorindar any better? Their own war with fairykind had ended with Malindar’s Treaty, which confined fairykind to a single walled city. Was that treaty so different from the Duchess’ terms?

Every history she had read described conflict between human and fairy. In Arathea, the fairies had used Talia’s curse to wipe out the ruling line, plunging the nobles into chaos. In Allesandria and Lorindar, the humans had triumphed. But they were all variations of the same basic war, played out again and again. “Do you know of any land where humans and fairies live in peace, as equals?”

Talia raised an eyebrow. Gerta shook her head and said, “Not for very long.”

“Fairy magic could have fought this demon,” Danielle said, “but Allesandria slaughtered its fairies.” The most powerful fairies would have been the first to be destroyed. Had the demon recognized its vulnerabilities? Was that another reason it had fled to Allesandria?

Jakob was both human and fairy. Danielle would have sooner died than give her son into the Duchess’ hands, and yet . . . he would be king of Lorindar when he was older. What could he accomplish, with connections to both worlds?

She closed her eyes, imagining Jakob as a man. A leader, trained to navigate human politics as well as fairy. He could change things. Humans and fairies, no longer enemies bound by a treaty, but true allies.

Noble families had been known to send their children to serve in foreign courts. The King and Queen of Fairytown rarely spoke to one another, but it would make sense for Jakob to visit both . . . when he was old enough.

Instead, the Duchess had claimed him. Her bargain with Bellum and Veleris was proof of her hunger for power, a hunger which would doubtless twist Jakob as well, poisoning that future. Instead of bringing human and fairy together, the Duchess would use Jakob against her enemies on all sides.

Danielle refused to consider the possibility that they might be unable to save her son, that both he and Armand would be lost to her forever.

“You’re still thinking about Jakob,” Talia guessed. “We
will
find a way to destroy this demon. As for the Duchess—”

Danielle raised a hand, cutting her off. The darkling served them by the Duchess’ order, but Danielle had no doubt the creature was listening to their every word, and would report back to its master.

“I made a bargain.” To rescue Jakob from the demon, only to lose him again. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to recede enough for her to reclaim those images of her son grown to adulthood. Taking his place as King of Lorindar. Reaching out to Fairytown and rewriting the treaty. Taking a wife. Having children of his own.

“We’ll get him back,” said Talia. “We’ll get them all back.”

Danielle managed a smile, but said nothing. Talia sounded much like Danielle had several years ago, always insisting everything would work out. Danielle remembered well what Talia had said to her at the time.

“Just because your story had a happy ending doesn’t mean everyone else’s will.”

They discovered Veleris’ message on the second day, printed upon one of the dried fish. Tiny black marks, slightly smeared, covered the yellowed meat like an old tattoo.

“It’s a spell,” Gerta said.

Danielle peered closer. The letters appeared to have been written in haste. “On a fish?”

“To hide it from Bellum,” Talia guessed.

“She writes that it’s an old charm used by giants before battle, to toughen the skin,” Gerta read. “She says it should protect us from Snow’s ice wasps. It’s fairy magic, but she believes the spell can be adjusted for human use.”

“Can it?” Danielle asked. Snow had been able to cast fairy spells before, but she wasn’t certain about Gerta.

“I think so. I’ll need time . . .”

“You can read while we ride,” Talia said, snatching another fish from their supplies.

Gerta didn’t appear to hear. She muttered to herself as she studied the spell, brows furrowed in a way that made her look like her sister.

“Those wasps won’t be the demon’s only protection,” Talia said.

“I know.” Danielle finished packing snow into a small pot and handed it to Gerta, who barely even looked up as she used her magic to melt it into drinking water. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“And?” Talia asked.

Danielle rubbed her shoulders, where the straps of her pack had dug into the muscle. “I’m still thinking,” she admitted.

“Think harder.”

She did, testing one plan after another in her mind and discarding them all. By the time they reached Snow’s palace toward evening of the second day, Danielle could see only one way to get them inside. But the cost made her ill.

The woods ended at the shore of a vast, frozen lake, covered in ankle-deep snow. Toward the center of the lake stood the palace Danielle had seen in her vision, like a miniature mountain range of ice. Crystalline towers stretched skyward, illuminated from within by green and blue lights. Drifts of snow buried much of the lower part of the palace.

They waited while Gerta read the protective spell Veleris had prepared. Gerta clutched the dried fish in her hands, mumbling to herself and touching her forehead. She repeated the gesture with the others, chanting in a language Danielle didn’t recognize.

“If you turn me into a troll, I swear to the gods I’ll eat you,” said Talia.

Gerta’s lips quirked as she continued her spell, reaching for Danielle. Danielle’s face tightened at Gerta’s touch. Her skin felt warm and dry, as if she had spent too much time in the sun. When she flexed her arms, there was a stiffness in her skin that reminded her of the heavily starched gowns that had been so popular last season.

Talia pulled out her knife and dragged the edge over her thumb. The blade failed to break the skin. “Not bad.”

“It’s no substitute for armor,” Gerta warned. “A strong sword thrust will kill you, but we should be protected from glancing blows and smaller stings.” She rubbed a thumb over the writing on the dried fish, then shrugged and took a bite. “Tastes like magic.”

The lake offered no cover. Danielle saw neither guards nor windows, but she had no doubt Snow was watching. “Night should help—”

“Not against Snow. The entire lake serves as her mirror. The moment we step out . . .” Gerta pointed toward the palace. “There are creatures in the drifts. So cold they’re barely alive.”

“Prisoners?” asked Talia.

“I don’t think so.” Gerta squinted through the trees.

Danielle fought to control her breathing. Jakob was there, beyond those drifted walls. Close enough he might hear her voice if she shouted. “It doesn’t matter.”

Gerta’s magic wasn’t strong enough to overpower Snow. The darkling wouldn’t be able to conceal them either, not here. Snow had made this place her new home. The moment they stepped onto the ice, she would know.

“How do we get inside?” asked Talia. “There are no doors.”

“She doesn’t need them,” said Gerta. “The ice responds to her will. We’ll have to scale the outer wall or break through.”

Danielle stepped down to the shore. The lake’s edge had frozen into a lacy ribbon of frost that crunched beneath her feet.

The drifts at the base of the palace wall shivered. Large shapes stepped free. Most were humanoid, clothed in fur and frost and ice. Others walked on all fours, though they were unlike any beasts Danielle had ever seen. At this distance, it was difficult to make out the details. She spotted a white winged serpent twice as high as a man. An animal that appeared a cross between dog and bull shook snow from its spine-covered hide. Every one of the creatures was white, as though all color had been bleached from their bodies.

“I estimate close to a hundred,” said Talia, her tone calm and calculating.

“That’s just from the front section of the palace,” Gerta pointed out. “She could have five times their number waiting in the rest of the drifts.”

“Welcome, Danielle.” Snow’s voice boomed over the lake. “Have you no words of greeting for your loyal crew, the men who fought so briefly but valiantly to protect the
Phillipa
?”

Danielle swallowed. “Gerta?”

“She’s telling the truth.” Gerta was paler than usual. “They’re human. Or they used to be.”

These were men Danielle had sailed with. Men she had joked with and even fought beside, more than a year ago. “Are you strong enough to undo—”

“I’m sorry.” Gerta stared out at the bestial army before them. “I might be able to change one or two, given enough time, but not like this.”

Ever since leaving Lorindar, Danielle had imagined what she would say when she found Snow White. She had searched for the words that would break through the demon’s power and help her friend to throw off its hold long enough for them to destroy it. Long enough for them to save her.

“Your son told me you’d arrive today,” said Snow. “A marvelous child, who sees far more than most. I daresay he’ll soon forget you and Armand. He’ll forget everything, save me.”

“Forgive me.” Danielle closed her eyes. Many times throughout the years she had prayed to her mother’s spirit. It was her mother who had helped her escape her stepmother’s home, leading her to the ball and Armand. Her mother had given her the glass sword, which had saved Danielle’s life on more than one occasion. Her hand went to her hip, imagining the comforting weight of the glass blade, now lost.

“Watch over your grandson,” she whispered. “Keep him safe.” No matter what happened to her.

Talia cleared her throat. “You realize if we fail, we’re handing the Princess of Lorindar over to this demon?”

“So don’t fail,” said Danielle.

Snow’s voice came again. “Have you come to bargain? To trade the girl for your son? Surrender to me, and I might be willing to listen to your offer.”

Danielle glanced at Gerta. She was formed from Snow White. It was no surprise Snow would guess at the very plan Gerta had suggested back in Speas Elan.

Talia’s face was stone. “Even possessed, she’s a lousy liar.”

“I didn’t come to bargain,” Danielle called out. “I came to ask you to return my son. And my friend.”