The Snow Queen's Shadow (29 page)

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 but 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.”

“I know. Mother’s demon would have . . . destroyed everything. I couldn’t let her win.”

“You didn’t,” Talia whispered. “You beat her.”

“Damn right.” Snow blinked and looked about, as though disoriented. “Gerta loves you, you know. We both do.”

“I know.” New tears welled. She turned to where Gerta lay dying on the ice.

“So why haven’t you . . . kissed her yet?”

Talia smiled. She would have stayed here forever, just to listen to Snow tease her, but even as she watched, Snow’s reflection was fading. When she spoke again, Talia had to press her ear to the ice to make out the words.

“Danielle . . . clever woman. Jakob’s blood . . . weakens the demon . . . enough for me to do this.” In the reflection, she slipped a hand around Talia’s neck and kissed her cheek. The other Talia released the chain, which fell away to reveal the paleness of Snow’s throat.

Snow looked through the ice and winked. “Promise me . . . you’ll take care of her. She deserves to be happy. You both do.”

Talia’s vision blurred. She twisted her head, furiously wiping the tears on her shoulder.

“Happy ever after . . . is a choice.” Snow glanced away. “I’m sorry, Talia.”

“Please don’t go,” Talia whispered.

“I created her. I bound her. I can . . . free her.” Snow touched the underside of the frozen lake. “Mirror formed of ice so cold . . . sever now my magic’s hold.”

And then both Snow and the demon were gone.

CHAPTER 23

D
ANIELLE FELT THE MOMENT THE MAGIC on Snow’s sword failed. The ice blade grew heavy, and the hilt began to melt in her grip. She tossed it away, and it broke apart when it struck the ground.

She didn’t fool herself into believing she stood a chance against Snow’s beasts. Not that it would stop her from doing her best to slay them all if they came too close. But they didn’t attack. They stumbled about as though drunk, snarling and swiping at one another if they collided, but mostly keeping to themselves.

“I’m cold, Mama.”

Danielle stepped sideways, moving toward Jakob. He ran up and grabbed her jacket, pressing against her like an animal burrowing for warmth. His hands were bloody, the fingertips an unhealthy blue tinge, and he had lost so much weight. His cheeks were sunken, and there were shadows beneath his eyes. But he was alive.

“I’ve got you.” She crouched to pick him up with one arm. He wrapped his arms and legs around her body, clinging with all his strength.

Talia and Snow lay on the ice at the base of the throne. Toward the door, Gerta had managed to stand. She was unsteady, and held one hand to her side, but there was no blood.

“Gerta?” Danielle kept her sword ready. Talia had never released the chain. The demon shouldn’t have had anywhere to go. Yet how could Gerta live, with Snow— Danielle forced back tears. It was like swallowing a stone.

“It’s gone.” Gerta’s head was tilted, allowing her red hair to fall over the ruin of her eye.

“How?” Danielle glanced at Snow. “You said the two of you were bound. I thought—”

“I should be dead. Back in Noita’s garden . . .”Tears fell from Gerta’s good eye. She sounded dazed, though whether the shock came from the loss of her eye or the fact that she was still alive, Danielle couldn’t have said. “This is the death I saw. I was part of her, our fates bound.”

“Was?”

“She saved me,” said Gerta. “She and the demon were both dying, but Snow was able to cast one final spell. She severed that bond between us.”

With Danielle’s help, Gerta made her way toward the dais. Talia’s body was taut. The chain had fallen away. Pinched, bloody skin showed where it had dug into Snow’s neck.

The sight brought new tears, and Danielle hugged her son tighter.

“Is he all right?” Gerta asked.

“He’s cold.” Danielle remembered the fear in his face when she asked him to hold out his hand. But he had obeyed, knowing what was needed. He had cried when she cut him—they both had—but he never flinched away. She unbuttoned her jacket, wrapping it around him. “What of you? Your eye, your side—”

“Hurt like hell, both of them,” Gerta admitted. “But I’m not bleeding.” She pointed to the weapon in Danielle’s hand. “You shouldn’t need that. With the demon gone, the mirror shards have no hold over them anymore. They’re free, all of them.”

Even Armand. Danielle sheathed her sword and sat, her muscles gone weak as though her limbs were melting. The creatures stumbled about, confused and frightened, but no longer hostile. Jakob climbed into her lap, and she held him with one arm. With her other, she gently reached over to touch Talia’s back. Talia’s muscles were like stone.

Years ago, Talia had awakened from a fairy curse to find her entire family dead. She had fled to Lorindar, where Beatrice and Snow found her and took her in. Now Bea and Snow were both gone.

“Snow chose this,” Gerta said. “The moment our mother’s mirror cracked and she sensed what hid within. She trusted her friends to help her destroy that evil.”

“I know.” Talia didn’t move. Her hair hid her face. “This is Allesandria, home of magic. There must have been something more we could have—”

“There wasn’t.” The certainty in Gerta’s voice was absolute. “You saw how many nobles fell to the demon, not to mention the king of Allesandria. Snow spent her life studying magic. She was gifted enough to rule, stronger even than our mother, though she never believed it. She knew there was but one way to undo what Rose Curtana had set in motion. She wouldn’t want you to grieve. She’d want you to celebrate her victory.”

A cracking sound echoed through the throne room. A thin curtain of snow drifted from the ceiling. Danielle rose. “What happens to this place now that the demon is gone?”

“Nothing good.”

An animal like a dog with vestigial wings of edged ice charged toward them. Its snarls sounded more panicked then angry. Danielle tried to stand and draw her sword, but Gerta was faster, slapping a palm to the surface of the frozen lake. The dog yelped and limped away, favoring its front left leg. Blood dripped from its paw.

“We can’t stay here,” said Danielle.

Talia took a deep, shuddering breath. She rolled Snow’s body to face her, then leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

Danielle held her breath. Once before, deep within Fairytown, Talia had awakened Snow from a curse with just such a kiss . . . but Snow was gone. Talia seemed to shrink into herself.

“Talia, we have to go.” Danielle wasn’t letting go of her son, and Gerta was too badly hurt to physically drag Talia from the palace, assuming Talia didn’t knock her unconscious for trying.

“You promised her,” Gerta said.

Talia didn’t move. “You heard that?”

Gerta tugged Talia’s shoulder. “Do you have the faintest idea what her spirit will do to yours if you stay here and let yourself die? It won’t be pretty.”

Slowly, Talia nodded. She lifted Snow’s body, cradling her to her chest, and stepped away from the throne. “What about the traps?”

“I should be able to take care of them now,” Gerta said.

Danielle did her best to call out to Snow’s creatures, warning them to flee. She didn’t know whether they could understand her, or if they simply sensed the danger as the magic holding the palace together began to unravel. By the time they reached the doorway, the throne room was empty.

Outside, a light snow was falling, but it couldn’t hide the carnage of battle. Tears spilled down Danielle’s cheeks at the sight of animals and monsters scattered over the ice, their blood staining the snow crimson. Trails of blood showed where the wounded had dragged themselves away into the woods. “I’m so sorry,” Danielle whispered. “Thank you.”

With the darkling dead, they had no way of traveling, yet Danielle couldn’t bring herself to call upon the animals again. Not when they had given so much. “We’ll need shelter.”

“No, we won’t.” Once they reached the edge of the lake, Gerta dropped to her knees and cleared a patch on the ice. Unlike the floor within the palace, the ice here was rippled and flawed, but Danielle could see Gerta’s reflection in the surface. “Frozen lake beneath my hand, show the ruler of this land.”

Nothing happened at first. Danielle looked to the woods. “Should we—”

“He heard me,” Gerta said firmly. “I imagine things are rather chaotic right now. Give him time.”

It wasn’t long before Laurence appeared in the ice. His features were blurred, making it difficult to discern his expression. Or perhaps he obscured himself deliberately. “Gerta? You found Ermillina?”

“The demon is gone, Cousin.” Her words were edged, particularly the last.

Danielle stepped to Gerta’s side. “Snow gave her life to destroy it.”

“Princess Danielle. I’m glad to see you well.” Something in Laurence’s manner broke, making him sound not like a king but a man, exhausted and lost. “What of your son?”

“Jakob is safe,” Danielle assured him.

“I will send my people to escort you to the docks. Allesandria is in chaos, and I would not have you hurt as we work to bring things under control.”

“No,” said Danielle. “Tell your people to bring us to Kanustius.”

Laurence stared. “Your Highness, Kanustius is in ruins. Half the palace is destroyed.”

“Snow was Princess of Allesandria. She deserves to be remembered alongside her father.”

Talia pursed her lips. “I think she’d like that.”

“Princess Whiteshore, Snow White attacked this nation. The lords of eleven provinces are dead or missing. She slaughtered—”

“She accepted this fate in order to destroy the demon her mother summoned.” All of Danielle’s grief, her fury at Snow’s death, threatened to pour forth. She tightened her grip on her son. “Rose Curtana was a monster. Snow destroyed that monster, an act which gave you your throne, and you banished her for it. Today, she protected you from Rose Curtana’s power a second time. She gave her life to protect you. You will
not
turn your back on her again.”

“I helped my cousin to escape before,” Laurence said. “But the law—”

“Damn your law.” Danielle glanced at the others. Gerta’s lips were tight with her own anger. Talia simply nodded. “You will pardon Snow White and give her the honor she deserves. Lorindar gave you your throne, Your Majesty. You
will
give this to Snow.”

Laurence didn’t respond. A distant voice in the back of her mind warned she had pushed too far, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She took a breath to calm herself, then added, “Also, I would reclaim my sword from your keeping, along with our other belongings, which you took while we were imprisoned in your dungeon.”

Even through the distortions in the ice, she saw him wince. “Very well, Princess Whiteshore. I will send one of my Stormcrows to retrieve you.”

“Send as many as you can spare,” said Danielle, looking back to the crumbling palace. “There are many victims here in need of their magic.”

Aside from Danielle and her friends, only the king and one of his Stormcrows attended Snow’s funeral. Her body had been cremated, her ashes mixed into the stone that formed her obelisk.

That obelisk was in place by the time Danielle arrived in the memorial garden. The garden had been better protected than much of the palace, and the walls had survived relatively unscathed, but the smell of smoke lingered in the air. Danielle identified Snow’s memorial at once by the fresh-turned earth surrounding its base. Made of white stone, speckled with polished silver, her monument stood beside the obelisk of Snow’s father.

Talia stepped forward, touching the letters carved into the side. The Stormcrow frowned at the breach in etiquette, and Laurence started to speak, but a glare from Danielle silenced him. She and Gerta joined Talia. Gerta wore a white bandage over her ruined eye. No healing magic could restore what the darkling had destroyed.

“What is it, Mama?” Jakob asked from Danielle’s arms. He had refused to be separated from her, and Danielle was more than willing to keep him close.

“It says there lived a woman called Ermillina Curtana,” said Gerta. “She was Princess of Allesandria, and she died protecting her nation.”

The Stormcrow began to speak. A slight hunch stole his height, and his bald scalp was spotted by age, but his voice carried clearly through the garden.

“An old blessing,” Gerta whispered. “It means ‘Be at peace.’”

Laurence stepped forward next. He used his scepter to cut his palm, and paced a slow circle around the obelisk, dripping blood into the earth. Gerta translated his words as he vowed to protect both Snow’s remains and her memory.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Danielle said softly. She prayed he would keep his word.

There were no songs. No prayers. Nothing but cold stone to mark Snow’s resting place. There had been no official proclamation, nor had Snow’s body been presented to the people as would be done with most nobles, but she was here among her family. She was home.

Laurence stared at the monument, his expression impossible to read. “Tell me, Danielle. Was she happy?”

“Almost always.” Danielle hesitated, tempted to leave it at that, to forget her other obligations and simply grieve for her friend. Instead, she turned to face him. “She searched for joy in everything she did, and if she couldn’t find it, she created it. Yet . . . there was pain. Loss. She kept it locked away, but it was there. She missed Allesandria. Her family. It was that buried pain that helped the demon turn her against you.”

Laurence’s lips pursed. “You blame me.”

“Blame changes nothing that has happened. But this was her home.” She watched him closely, searching his face. “As it was home to the fairies.”

“I see.” Laurence was no fool. “You’ve not said how you were able to locate Snow’s palace, nor how you reached her without succumbing to her wasps.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You believe fairykind will rebel against us, as my cousin did?”

Danielle sighed, thinking of Bellum and Veleris. “I believe some of them are content to hide, while others bridle against the loss of their homes. I believe they are dangerous enemies, but they can be valuable allies as well.”

And what of those who are both?
She stepped away, leaving him to his thoughts. Talia had warned her, years ago. Never bargain with fairies. They always got the better of the deal. The Duchess had risked nothing but a darkling servant, and in return, she won Danielle’s son.

“You’re welcome to remain here as long as you need,” said Laurence, “but I would recommend you let my people escort you to the harbor. The palace is broken, with only the crudest protections. With so many dead, my Stormcrows are spread thin.”