The Snow Queen's Shadow (21 page)

“You did,” said Danielle. “I could hear it in her voice.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“Maybe it was.” Talia was already searching the room. The cots were framed with wood. Pine, from the smell. It should be easy enough to break them apart for weapons. “She could have killed us or infected us with her mirrors, but she didn’t.”

“She will.” Gerta hugged herself. “When I cast my spell, just for a moment, we were one. When she said she doesn’t intend to rule Allesandria, she meant it.”

The deadness of her words made Talia stop what she was doing. “What do you mean?”

“She wants to destroy it.”

“How?” breathed Danielle.

“I’m not sure.”

“Whatever the demon plans, I doubt it will be content to stop at Allesandria’s borders.” Talia checked the door next. There was no lock, no handle of any sort. The hinges were on the outside, and the crack beneath was too narrow for her fingers. She scraped skin from her knuckles trying to reach through.

“It won’t work,” said Gerta. “None of it’s real. I always hated this room.”

“You’ve been here before?” asked Danielle.

“It responds to the will of the king or queen.” Gerta flicked her fingers through the candle flames. “Our mother used to put us—used to put Snow in here, rather. Sometimes for days, until one of her servants reminded her to let us out.” She licked her fingers and pinched one of the wicks. When she removed her fingers, the flame sprang back to life.

Wood trim ran along the middle of the walls. Talia tried to dig her fingernails beneath the wood to pry it away, but the trim was seamless. “Can she watch us through this?”

“Probably not anymore.” Gerta touched the wood. “This conduit ran unbroken through the palace. When Snow burned down part of the building, she broke that circle . . .” Her eyes widened. “Talia, it was an
unbroken circle.
”

Talia stared, not understanding.

“My mother added this trim when she first became queen. I thought it was so she could communicate with her servants, and to spy on them. But a ring this size could also be used for summoning.”

“That’s how she trapped the demon,” Danielle said.

Gerta nodded excitedly as she picked at the trim. “I bet Noita’s enchanted trees provided the wood. She never came to the palace, as far as I know, so she might not even have realized how our mother used her trees.”

“Can the circle be repaired?” asked Talia.

Gerta’s smile faded. “I wouldn’t know how. Even if we knew what kind of tree she used, and we could get more wood from Noita . . . I’d need years to figure out how she did it.”

“Snow knew,” said Danielle. “That’s why she attacked the palace. She destroyed the one thing that could stop her.”

“Not Snow. The demon. It would remember how it was first trapped.” Talia paced the room. She felt naked without the cape. She had come to rely on the wolf’s anger. Without it, it was all she could do to keep her grief at bay. “It’s Snow’s words. Her thoughts. The demon twisted her, but she’s still in there.”

“She created me to save her, and I couldn’t,” said Gerta. “I couldn’t reach her.”

“You’ll get another chance,” Talia said. “We know the demon plans to destroy Allesandria. What’s its next step, now that they’ve taken Laurence?”

“I saw a palace of ice,” Danielle said. “On a lake.”

Talia snorted. “There are hundreds of lakes in Allesandria.”

“She may intend to punish the king personally, first.” Gerta sighed. “Snow was grateful for everything Laurence did, but deep down she also resented him for receiving everything that should have been hers.”

“She never spoke of it,” said Talia. Snow rarely talked of Allesandria at all. When she did, it was about the beauty of the mountains, the crisp winter air, the colorful fashions . . . not once had she shown any hint of anger or bitterness.

How much else had she kept to herself?

“They have to return for us eventually,” said Danielle. “Sooner or later, the door will open. That will be our only chance to escape. If I summon the rats—”

“Magic keeps all such vermin from entering the palace.” Gerta tugged at the chain around her neck. “So long as I wear this, I can’t cast the simplest spell. Your weapons are gone. A single Stormcrow could overpower us all, and Snow controls most of the palace.”

“Stop calling her that,” Talia whispered.

They both turned to look at her.

“That thing. It’s not Snow.” Talia hammered a fist against the door, which swallowed the impact with hardly a sound. “Snow
fought
this thing. She ripped herself in half so we would have the key to stopping it. It’s not her fault we’re too dense to figure out how to use that key.”

She spun away from the door, rubbing her arms against the chill and fanning her anger until it was almost a match for the wolf’s. “Every time you call her Snow, you’re giving up on her. You’re saying she’s gone, that we can’t save her. You’re wrong.”

“Nobody has given up,” Danielle said, her words gentle.

“
Don’t
try to calm me down.” Talia clenched her fingers together.

“You truly love her, don’t you?” Gerta’s eyes shone.

Her pain broke through Talia’s anger. A part of her wanted to apologize. Another part simply wanted to get away. She hadn’t asked Gerta to fall in love with her. It wasn’t her fault.

No, it was Snow’s. She had chosen to give Gerta these feelings. But why?

“I have an idea.” Danielle stared at the floor, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” asked Talia.

“No.” Danielle took a deep breath. “This room is enchanted to keep us from escaping. Does that enchantment also prevent others from entering?”

“Absolutely not.” Talia’s face was red, her expression taut.

Danielle couldn’t blame her. If there were any other way . . . “Snow told us the demon’s magic was less effective against fairies. The Duchess—”

“You spoke to her?” Talia asked. “You bargained with a fairy criminal? In your own bedchamber! Did you ever think what might have happened? You invited her into your home, risking—”

“When we came to Fairytown to rescue Armand, the Duchess warned that I would need her help again.” Danielle heard her own voice rising to match Talia’s, and fought to regain her calm. “If you have another idea for escaping this cell, this would be a good time to share it.”

“What price did she ask?” Talia knew better than anyone that all fairy bargains came at a cost.

“I had hoped we would be able to save Jakob and Snow both, without her help.” Had she accepted the Duchess’ bargain before, could they have saved Snow sooner? How many people would still be alive? Danielle took a deep breath, then told them what the Duchess had demanded.

Talia stared. “You’re mad.”

“The Duchess is powerful,” said Danielle. “She could help—”

“Some help isn’t worth the price.” Talia spun. “Why do we need her aid? We have you. Jakob resisted Snow’s power. Couldn’t you do the same?”

“Danielle might have fairy blood, but the human is stronger,” said Gerta. “Her mother must have been of mixed-blood. The child of a fairy and a human will be more human than not, and only pureblooded fairies maintain their connections to the fairy hills. After several generations, you’d be indistinguishable from humans, save for the occasional magical quirk.”

Talia frowned. “By that logic, Jakob should be even more human, and more vulnerable, than his mother.”

Gerta was playing with the candle flames again, cupping her hands around them and studying the red glow of her skin. “The Duchess’ darklings awakened Jakob’s magic when he was in the womb. Their spells blended the fairy and human magic in him.”

“What will Armand say if you give Jakob to the fairy who kidnapped him?” Talia asked softly.

Danielle met her anger without flinching. Anger was preferable to the anguish and loss knotting her chest. “You don’t know what I would give to be able to talk to him, to not have to make this choice alone. But Armand is gone, and I don’t know how else to get him back.”

“The Duchess—” Talia began.

“Had I accepted her offer before, Captain Hephyra might yet be alive.” Danielle’s voice broke. She had no doubt Snow had been telling the truth about Hephyra’s death. “We tried to stop her, and we failed.”

“You know what she’s done,” Talia said. “To you. To Armand. To your stepsister Charlotte. Each time, she evaded the justice of fairy and man alike. You would forgive all that? You would hand your son into her keeping?”

“She also honored her bargain with my stepsisters. Gave them the power they needed to—”

“To try to kill you?” Talia folded her arms. “Your stepsisters are both dead as a result of their dealings with the Duchess!”

“I saw him, Talia.” Danielle closed her eyes, remembering her vision from Noita’s garden. “I saw Jakob shivering in the cold, so thin he was little more than a creature of sticks and skin.”

“We’ll find another way,” Talia insisted. “One that doesn’t hand the Prince of Lorindar to a fairy. You saw how far the fairies have come in taking control of Arathea. Would you give them the key to your homeland as well?”

“Jakob is my son. Nothing the Duchess does will ever change that. He would only be with them for six months at a time.” Fairy bargains were unbreakable. So long as she was careful about the terms of the bargain, she would get Jakob back.

“Do you believe your people will accept a king known to have lived among the fairy folk?”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Danielle asked.

Talia’s lips parted, but she said nothing. Eventually, her shoulders sagged. “No.”

CHAPTER 16

D
ANIELLE KNELT IN PRAYER. “I NEED YOU, mother. If you’ve some magic to share, some guidance . . .”

There was no response. She closed her eyes. All of Danielle’s life, she had believed her mother’s spirit watched over her. The animals that helped with her chores and provided companionship. The gown and glass slippers that led her to the ball and Armand. The glass sword that had saved her life more than once.

Her mother had given her so much, but how much had truly been a gift of her mother’s spirit, and how much was simply an artifact of her fairy blood? For so long Danielle had taken comfort from the knowledge that her mother was still with her, but now . . . “If you can hear me, please help us to save your grandson.”

“Will the Duchess even be able to respond to you here in this room?” asked Talia.

Gerta shrugged. “It depends on how badly Snow damaged the palace and its protections.” Through unspoken consensus, they had backed toward the walls, clearing the center of the room.

Danielle’s lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. What would King Theodore say of a princess who bargained his grandson away to fairies? How would she explain to Jakob, when the time came to send him away?

She blinked back tears. Who knew how long it would be before Snow returned. She couldn’t afford to stall any longer. She took a deep breath and called the Duchess three times.

The answer came as quickly as before. The rug
thinned
, like oiled paper, until Danielle could see the Duchess beneath, her features silhouetted in blue light. Long fingers stretched out to claw through the rug, as though she were attempting to clear cobwebs from her path, but nothing happened.

“Can you hear me?” Danielle asked.

“So nice to see you again, Princess.” The Duchess gave up trying to remove the illusory rug. “How fares your son?”

Danielle held her tongue, refusing to be baited. To her left, Gerta had dropped to her hands and knees. She jabbed a finger at the rug, directly into the middle of the Duchess’ face.

“Stop that.” The Duchess waved a hand. Gerta yelped and pulled her finger back.

“I wanted to ask whether you’ve reconsidered your terms,” said Danielle. “Think of your future, Duchess. You are a fugitive, hunted by the rulers of Fairytown. You would do well to have the future queen of Lorindar in your debt. I could—”

“You know my price, Danielle.” Her profile shifted as she examined their surroundings. “Just as I know you wouldn’t pay that price if you had any other choice. I take it you and your friends have failed in your efforts.”

King Laurence lost to Snow’s magic, Hephyra slain, Jakob still a prisoner . . . there was no point in denying the truth. “If you take my son, it shall be by my rules. No magic to sway his heart or mind. No charms to deceive his senses.”

“No magic at all,” the Duchess agreed, “save that which is necessary to ensure his safety while in my keeping. He will be well-treated in every way. You have my word.”

“Six months only.” Danielle reviewed the Duchess’ words in her mind again and again, searching for loopholes. “As determined by our calendar. Six months after entering your care, you will return him safely to us.”

“Six months of each year, yes.” Blue light danced on her features. “In return, I will send one of my darklings to help you find your son.”

“A darkling?” Danielle clamped down on her nervousness, remembering the last time she had faced one of the Duchess’ darklings. She didn’t know how powerful they were, but Snow had destroyed several of them before. “Will one darkling be enough to rescue Jakob?”

The Duchess waved a hand, dismissing her fears. “He will be older than the ones you encountered. Not as powerful as the Dark Man, but strong enough to help you. Remember, I gain nothing without Jakob. It’s in my interest to help you rescue the boy.”

“We must all be safely returned to Lorindar.” Danielle wouldn’t put it past the Duchess to order her darkling to kill them all and steal Jakob.

The Duchess laughed, a much deeper sound than Danielle would have expected from a woman of her size. “I can’t promise your safety, or that of your friends. I’ll not harm you myself, but if one of you should come to harm, that doesn’t absolve you of your obligations. Once Jakob is safely returned to Lorindar, I will count my side of the bargain fulfilled. Six months from today, you will summon me again, and I will open a fairy ring to bring Jakob to me.”

Danielle glanced at Talia. From her expression, her thoughts were following the same path as Danielle’s. They didn’t
have
to return home. So long as they kept Jakob away from Lorindar, the terms of the bargain weren’t met.

Which meant she could either give up her son for six months of every year, or abandon her home forever, leaving Lorindar without an heir. It would mean stealing Jakob away from his home, away from his family.

“We must be allowed to talk to him while he’s in your care, to make sure you’re keeping your word,” Danielle stalled.

“You may speak together once per week, for no longer than half of one of your hours.” The Duchess pressed pale, slender fingers together. “Do we have a bargain, Princess?”

Talia stepped closer. “Your darkling will obey us until we are safely returned home.”

“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand, clearly growing bored.

Danielle didn’t speak. She reviewed the terms in her mind, searching for omissions the Duchess could exploit. What was she missing? “When he comes of age, this bargain ends.”

The Duchess pressed her fingers together. “When he is a man, he may choose for himself where he wishes to reside.”

“A man by my culture’s rules,” said Danielle.

“And which culture might that be, my dear? Human or fairy?”

Her jaw clenched. “Human.”

Gerta cleared her throat. “The longer we delay, the more likely Laurence or his Stormcrows will return.”

Danielle nodded. “We’re prisoners in the winter palace in Kanustius. Can your darkling help us escape?”

The Duchess’ smile was visible even through the rug. “Once you are free, he will bring you to those who can help you save your son.”

“Who?” demanded Danielle.

“Bellum and Veleris, fairy queens of the underworld in Allesandria. They can protect you and help you rescue little Jakob. I imagine they may even be able to help you save Snow.”

Fairy queens in Allesandria. Danielle stared into the illusory pit. “I don’t understand. Allesandria drove the fairies from their land.”

The Duchess laughed again. “My people are not so easily banished. We can be defeated. We can be pushed into hiding. But we existed long before your kind claimed dominion over this world, and we shall exist long after your age ends.” She leaned closer. “If you agree to my terms, spill three drops of blood into the portal.”

Danielle looked to Talia and Gerta. Gerta sat against the wall, staring into the pit. Talia’s jaw was tight, but she nodded ever so slightly.

They had no weapons. Danielle searched for a way to provide the blood to seal the bargain, but nothing in the room appeared sharp enough to cut skin.

“Your nails,” Talia said softly.

After a week of travel, Danielle’s nails were a ragged mess. She bit one, tugging the corner until the skin tore and blood seeped from the skin.

As she held her finger over the carpet and squeezed blood from the tear, she wondered if Armand would be able to forgive her . . . or if she would ever forgive herself.

Talia inhaled sharply, then slowly forced the air from her lungs. It was a sik h’adan breathing exercise designed to control fear and anger before a fight. It had never worked very well for her. Her jaw was tight. Her fists clenched as she waited.

The darkling didn’t climb from the hole so much as he
flowed
. His limbs were shadow, the edges of his form a blur. Long fingers yanked the illusory rug aside.

“What is he?” whispered Gerta. Snow must not have shared those particular memories when she created Gerta.

“A darkling, a child of the Dark Man.” A single drop of sweat trickled down Talia’s back. The Dark Man was both bodyguard and assassin. His touch could wither a limb or turn a man’s eye to dust in the socket. He served none but the queen of Fairytown, and nobody knew how the Duchess had come to control his children.

The darklings they had faced in Fairytown had been little more than children. This one was older, a slender adult with overly long limbs. His movements reminded Talia of a sea creature, sinuous and boneless.

“The king may have sensed the darkling’s arrival,” said Gerta. “The palace’s wards may be damaged, but if he holds his scepter, he’ll know magic was used to transport something into these walls.”

“Can you get us out of here?” Danielle asked the darkling.

It stepped to one wall. Illusion melted away like ice shying from a fire as he reached out, revealing bare stone walls. He touched the wall, then drew back.

“The prison was built to contain magic,” Gerta said. “Even fairy magic. Entering is easier than leaving.”

“So we fight our way out.” Talia slipped out of her jacket, wrapping it tightly around her left forearm as a makeshift shield. “The walking ink stain should help. If the king sensed this thing’s arrival, he’ll be sending his people to investigate.”

Talia kept most of her attention on the darkling as she stepped toward Gerta. “You were able to pass through the city walls. Could you also control this room enough to create an exit?”

Gerta tugged the chain around her neck. “I might be able to, if not for this.”

“Good.” To the darkling, she said, “Your touch ages flesh. Does it work on metal?”

Without a word, the darkling reached out. Gerta shuddered as black fingers curled around the necklace. Talia stepped closer.

“It’s all right,” said Gerta. “He’s not hurting me.”

The darkling backed away a short time later. The necklace remained around Gerta’s neck, but the metal had lost its luster where the darkling had held it. The links were pitted, and rust flaked away as Gerta grabbed the chain and tugged. The necklace snapped. She flung it against the wall where the door had been a moment before.

“Did you do that?” Danielle asked, indicating the vanished door.

Gerta shook her head. “They know about the darkling. The first thing they’ll do is try to use the room against us.”

“How—?” Talia bit off her question as the cot behind Gerta disappeared. The candles vanished next, though the light remained. Gerta had captured the candle flames, which now flickered upon the tips of her fingers. The light illuminated water seeping through the naked stone floor.

“Is it real?” asked Danielle.

“Real enough to drown you.” Gerta moved to the wall, splashing through ankle-deep water.

“I thought they intended to keep us alive,” said Talia.

“Laurence could remove the water before we drown. He might just want to make sure we’re helpless when they come in to deal with the darkling.” Gerta dropped to her knees, squinting at the wall. “Or Snow might have changed her mind about letting us live.”

The water was almost to Talia’s knees. Ice cold, it swirled around her legs, real enough to make her shiver. “Can you send it away?”

“I can’t fight Laurence. The palace obeys him, and he’s too strong.” Gerta was tracing lines onto the wall with her finger, over and over. She reached into the water to retrieve the chain. Using one of the broken links, she sliced her fingertip and painted blood onto the stone. The blood washed away, swirling through the water, but she didn’t stop. “But I
think
I can do something even better.”

Gerta pushed with both hands, and a section of wall slid outward. She held her breath, ducked beneath the water, and crawled through.

“Go,” said Talia, pushing Danielle through. She glanced around the room one last time. To the darkling, she said, “Follow after me. If anyone else tries to come through, stop them.”

The cold shocked much of the air from her lungs. The entire opening was submerged, though the water didn’t seem to be flowing out through the hole. She squeezed after Danielle, her shoulders brushing the stones to either side. Only a few paces beyond, she found herself on the floor of the icehouse. She was dry, though the frigid air was little improvement over the water. “How did you manage that?”

“The passage works both ways.” Gerta grinned, her teeth chattering. “I remember the enchantments used to connect the palace to the icehouse. I reshaped our prison to mimic that enchantment, but there was no way to do it without Laurence knowing. He’ll be sending his Stormcrows to find us.”

“Nice.” Talia turned to the darkling. Without the red cape, they had lost their magical protection. “Can you conceal us from magical eyes?”

The darkling nodded silently, and the room seemed to dim for an instant.

Talia pushed past them, hurrying up the stairs to snatch one of the chisels from the wall. The handle was too thick and the blade was triple the weight of any dagger, but it was better than nothing. Gerta followed suit, grabbing a small hammer. She handed a second chisel to Danielle. “Your sword . . .”