Read The Stepsister Scheme Online
Authors: Jim C. Hines
The Stepsister Scheme (27 page)
“A mastery of weapons and magic will help, no doubt about it,” said Arlorran. “But I know Snow, and I’ve watched you and Talia.” He reached up to pat her on the leg. “Trust old Arlorran. Take care of those two.”
Before Danielle could respond, Talia guided her aviar around. “Come on. The sooner we get moving, the sooner I’ll be back on solid earth.”
“They’ll return to us on their own,” Quink called. “Just say ‘Home’ once you’ve reached your destination.”
Danielle started to ask how she and her companions were supposed to get back, then realized it didn’t matter. If they found Armand, they could contact Beatrice to arrange for help through the fairy court. If not. . . .
“Thank you,” Danielle said. She turned to look at Arlorran. “And you,” she added.
“Remember what I told you,” Arlorran said. “And don’t forget about my wings!”
As they climbed toward the clouds, Danielle found herself trembling. The pixies were little more than sparks, and a single strong wind could toss Danielle to the ground. Very soon, though, something within her surrendered to the inevitable. If she fell, she fell. There was nothing to do but trust Wind to keep her safe.
Fear faded, giving way to a dreamlike sense of excitement. The cold night air chilled Danielle’s skin, even as Wind’s skin grew warmer from her exertions. This was so much more vivid than the flight from the palace, when she had been tucked away in Karina’s basket. The air buffeted her face, ruffling her shirt and flinging her hair back in tangled streamers.
“Look at the moons,” Danielle shouted. The wind sucked her words away, but the aviar appeared to hear, banking left in order to give Danielle a better view of the twin crescents. The moons faced one another, twin disks of silver and gold, the edges nearly touching.
She twisted back, searching for the dark shapes of the dwarven towers. The hedge disappeared into the distance. She had never understood how huge Fairytown was. She glanced to the east, where enormous rooftops poked through the trees.
“Giants,” Snow shouted. She grinned and steered her aviar closer to Danielle. “The elves are the only ones who can grow trees large enough for the giants to use to build their homes. In return, the giants don’t eat the elves.”
Talia and Socks flew past on Danielle’s right. “Come on,” Talia yelled. “You can have your fill of sightseeing once we’ve found Armand.” Her aviar pulled ahead, wings pounding.
Danielle and Wind followed. Sudden exuberance made Danielle giggle as they flew, so high and swift and
free
. She lowered her body and breathed in the musky, nutty scent of the aviar. She could have ridden like this forever.
free
. She lowered her body and breathed in the musky, nutty scent of the aviar. She could have ridden like this forever.
And then Wind began to sweat. She didn’t notice until they caught up to Snow. Danielle pulled her hand away to wave. The instant her arm left the aviar’s fur, the wind chilled her damp sleeve, making her shiver.
Soon, salty aviar sweat soaked her arms and the front of her shirt, and she could feel it seeping into her trousers. She pressed herself closer to Wind for warmth. The wiry fur was slick and damp, and the mane kept sticking to her face, but the air was too cold to draw away.
The land below crawled past, marked by specks of campfires and lanterns. But the wind on her skin told her they were moving faster than any horse.
Up ahead, a wisp of cloud moved against the wind, sparkling like the sea as it undulated toward them. Danielle’s aviar let out a long, quavering scream. The other aviars did the same.
“Cloud strider,” Talia shouted. She tugged her reins, steering Socks away. “Warning us away from the palace.”
Danielle turned her head. The black towers of the fairy king’s palace were harder to see in the darkness. The silver bridge lay beyond, and she could see the lights of the queen’s palace on the far side. Her own aviar turned to follow Talia. Danielle saw a quick flicker of lightning from the cloud strider, illuminating the long, winged form from within, and then it was flying back to the mass of clouds overhead.
“Land on the queen’s side,” Talia yelled. “If your stepsisters are traveling on foot, we will have beaten them. We should be able to follow them down.”
“How?” Down below, the chasm stretched away for miles in either direction. “They could be anywhere. We can’t guard the whole width of Fairytown!”
“Says who?” Snow called, grinning like a child. She was already guiding Midnight over the chasm. Far below, the river reflected broken shards of moonlight.
Danielle shivered and leaned closer to Wind. Her thighs and lower legs were cramped and chapped, and her backside throbbed with every beat of the great wings.
The edge of the chasm was thick with a kind of flowering willow tree. From a distance, they seemed like toys, each one identical to the next, spreading out for at least a mile on either side of the queen’s palace.
“This way,” Talia said, steering Socks toward the trees.
Danielle sucked icy air through her teeth as she watched. There was no gap through which the aviar could fly. The branches hung to the ground, and many stretched even further, clinging like leeches to the rough face of the cliff.
Socks’ wings were perfectly still as he carried Talia closer to the trees. At the last instant he tucked his head, and his wings snapped back with a noise like a giant beating a rug. The aviar ripped through the branches and disappeared, with only a few falling leaves to mark his passage.
Snow followed, ducking her head as her aviar burst through the branches, and then it was Danielle’s turn. She dug her fingers into Wind’s skin, pressing her face against the sweat-slick fur.
Thin, flexible branches whipped her arms and head, and then Wind was galloping along hard-packed dirt, wings half-stretched as she slowed. Danielle gritted her teeth as those final steps drummed new bruises into her backside, not to mention the jarring of her bladder. “That wasn’t so bad,” she said, her voice shaky. She clamped her jaw to keep from crying out as she hoisted one leg over Wind’s back and jumped down. Her legs gave out immediately, leaving her sprawled in the dirt.
Wind chose that moment to pass gas.
Snow’s choker was already alight, showing where the trees had been trimmed back to form a wide, arched hallway. Purple buds tipped the branches, filling the air with the smell of nectar. Slivers of moonlight penetrated through the leaves, transforming dust in the air to floating flecks of diamond. The trees formed a kind of tunnel, the branches to either side woven as tightly as any wall.
Talia had already slid down from Socks, giving no sign of discomfort. She tossed their bags to the ground, then reached up to help Snow from her aviar.
“Get to the edge,” Talia said.
“I’m on it.” Snow hurried past Danielle. She, at least, had the decency to show some stiffness in her legs.
“You tense up when you ride,” Talia said as she helped Danielle to her feet. “You have to relax. Let your body move with the horse. Or the aviar, in this case.”
“Thanks,” said Danielle. She grabbed one of the trees for support. The branches were harder than she expected, and the leaves drew lines of blood along her hand.
She felt like a thousand pixies were driving tiny knives into her legs every time she moved. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to take a step, then two. By the time she found a vaguely private spot to relieve herself, she was shivering from the cold. Peeling the front of her sweat-soaked shirt from her skin sent a new wave of goose bumps down her flesh.
“We’ve got plenty of blankets in the bags,” Talia said when she returned.
Danielle made it halfway to the bag before Talia took pity and tossed the blanket to her.
Wrapping the coarse material around her body, she hobbled back toward Snow, who knelt at the very edge of the chasm. The branches here at the edge were little more than a thin curtain, swaying with the breeze. “What are you doing?”
“Watching for your stepsisters,” Snow said. She had taken off her choker. Her exposed throat appeared strangely vulnerable. She ran her fingers along the mirrors, stroking them like pets. She tapped the last mirror, and the gold wire holding it in place began to untwine.
The mirror dropped to the ground and crept toward the edge, four wires carrying it along like a glowing insect. Snow tapped it again, and the mirror returned to her palm. She blew a puff of air, extinguishing its light like a candle flame.
“Go,” she whispered. The mirror hopped into the branches and disappeared into the chasm.
“Arlorran’s sculpture showed the Duchess watching from beneath the bridge,” Talia said. “Her home has to be around here somewhere.”
Snow nodded as she freed a second mirror. This one scurried up the tree, disappearing through the leaves. “I’m sending three down to search for the Duchess. Three more will climb the trees to watch for the stepsisters. Even if I can’t find the cave myself, we’ll be able to follow Charlotte and Stacia down when they arrive.”
Soon only a single mirror remained. Snow kept this one and reclasped the choker around her neck. The light was proportionally dimmer, but Danielle’s eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness.
“What do we do until then?” Danielle asked.
“We eat, and then we sleep,” said Talia. “Rather,
you
sleep.” She walked away and began leading the aviars down the corridor.
you
sleep.” She walked away and began leading the aviars down the corridor.
“What is this place?” Danielle reached out to touch the velvety leaves.
“The queen’s labyrinth,” said Snow. “It surrounds her palace. She likes to blind intruders and turn them loose in the maze. She waits a short time, then sends the wolves in after them. Anyone who survives is set free.”
Danielle swallowed and backed away from the edge. She could easily imagine a helpless prisoner fleeing the howls of hungry wolves, only to stumble through that thin curtain and plummet into the chasm.
Snow wrinkled her nose. “Come on,” she said, tugging Danielle toward their bags. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a change of clothes.”
Up ahead, Talia snorted as she brushed down the aviars. “Snow always overpacks. She could probably dress every member of the fairy queen’s court and still have a week’s worth of outfits.”
“I like to be prepared, that’s all,” Snow said.
Talia dropped her brush and walked back to snatch something blue and satiny from one of the bags. “Prepared for what? You think they’re holding Armand prisoner at a fancy dress ball?”
Snow snatched the blue garment away and stuck out her tongue. She dug through the bags and tossed Danielle a fresh shirt and trousers, along with clean undergarments. The drawers were lacier than she would have liked, and the chemise had frilly ribbons at the neck, but at least they were clean and dry. On Danielle, the clothes were tight at the waist and loose in the chest, but they would do.
Snow glanced at Talia, who had gone back to brushing the aviars. Dragging Danielle away, she lowered her voice and said, “I’ve got another undershirt that’s nothing but lace, if you want to borrow it for when we save Armand. Men love that sort of thing.”
Danielle’s cheeks grew warm.
“So what was it like when the two of you first met?” Snow grabbed a shell-inlaid comb and began to work the tangles from her hair.
“Strange,” Danielle admitted. She sat down and stretched out her legs, biting her lip to keep from crying out. The first night when she snuck away to attend the ball, Danielle never dreamed of catching the prince’s eye. Simply escaping her stepmother’s home, losing herself in music and dancing and the sheer, spoiled luxury of the ball had been all she ever wanted. “I didn’t even recognize him at first. He seemed so young. I thought he was somebody’s son, a minor noble, maybe.” Only when she saw everyone else falling back to give them space had she figured out who her dancing partner must have been.
“I stepped on his feet,” she admitted. “Glass slippers are not meant for dancing.”
Snow giggled and passed the comb to Danielle, who sighed. Once again, Snow looked absolutely perfect. The sweaty strands of hair hanging in front of her face only made her more attractive. Danielle ran a hand through her own hair. She would be lucky if she didn’t rip half of it out trying to fix the snarls.
“I thought my Roland was so old when I first saw him,” Snow said. “So old, and so hairy. His hair was thick as a sheepdog’s, all black, except for a few strands of gray. The gray ones used to bother him so. He’d pluck them out when he noticed them, but we were always finding more scattered across his back and . . . other places.”
“Who was Roland?” Danielle asked.
“The man my mother hired to cut out my heart,” Snow said, still smiling wistfully.
“But he didn’t?” Danielle knew the question was a particularly stupid one the instant it left her mouth.
Snow giggled again. “I was young, but already woman enough for him to notice. He took me away to the woods to protect me. I learned to hunt and cook for myself, and I practiced my magic when he was away. We practiced a different kind of magic when he returned.”
Her smile faltered slightly. “It was almost a year later when my mother found us. She arrived disguised as an old woman. One bite of that poisoned apple and I knew, but it was too late. She was already casting her spell, trapping me in a crystal coffin. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe.”
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