Crown of Ice (13 page)

“Do you like it? It’s the latest fashion in my country.” I toss off the words as I watch the maid carry my furs into a small anteroom off the main hall. I’ll need them if I have to make a quick exit later. Even I can’t cross the mountains in a thin silk gown. “I am used to warmer climes.”

“I see.” Hans Stryker is staring at something over my head. “Well, Lady LaNévé, I hope you enjoy our little party. Let us know if you need anything.” He smiles and absently pats my hand. “I am sure Lord Lind is around here somewhere. If I see him I will send him to you.”

“Oh no, don’t bother,” I reply. “We are not, how shall I put it? On the best of terms right now. Still, family is family.” Manufacturing a gracious smile for Elise Stryker, I walk into the milling crowd before she can respond.

I thread my way past the guests, who are clustered in knots as tight as birds picking over a solitary kernel of corn. Their voices fill my ears with shrieks and squawks. Crows indeed.

“Excuse me, have we met?” asks a stylishly dressed young man with a shock of blonde hair falling into his eyes. He holds out a fluted crystal glass full of a sparkling liquid. “Champagne?”

I’ve never sampled anything stronger than hard cider but I smile and accept the glass, pressing it to my lips and taking a tiny sip. “Thank you, sir. I am Lady LaNévé.”

“Karl Friis.” The young man looks me up and down, his blue eyes finally coming to rest on my neckline. I don’t believe he’s admiring the pearls.

“Well, Master Friis,” I press my slippered foot over his instep until he looks up into my face, “perhaps you can help me? I would love to meet Miss Clara Stryker, as I’ve heard so many marvelous things about her, but I’m afraid I don’t know what she looks like. Could you point her out to me?” I flick away his wandering fingers before they come to rest upon my arm.

Karl Friis steps away from me, smoothing down the lapels of his gray frock coat. “She’s just coming down the stairs,” he says sullenly.

I turn to gaze into the entrance hall. A young blonde woman is descending the curving staircase. She’s wearing a bell-shaped gown of pink tulle from which her slender white neck rises like the stem of an inverted flower. Trailing in her wake is another blonde girl, dressed in a simple white eyelet dress with a lavender sash. “Gerda,” I mutter under my breath, earning a searching look from Mr. Friis.

“Friend of mine,” I say airily, thrusting the full champagne glass into his hands. “Please excuse me, Master Friis. I must give her, what do you say? Ah yes, my best wishes.” I stalk off, not bothering to maintain a ladylike stride.

As I approach the hall a tall, slender woman steps in front of me. Her auburn hair is piled high upon her head, a few ringlets cascading over her neck and ears. She’s wearing a gown of sea foam silk, embroidered with pastel roses and twisting green vines.

“How delightful to run into you again.” The woman’s emerald eyes flash with anger. “Though not surprising, all in all.”

“Sephia,” I dig my fingernails into the palms of my clenched fists. “Are you following me?

“No.” The enchantress smiles sweetly. “I am simply keeping an eye on Gerda. I’ve taken quite a fancy to her, you see. Rather like a mother watching over her only child.”

“You’re in my way.” I attempt to step around her.

“Now, now, Snow Queen.” Sephia grabs my elbow. Her grip’s tight as a clamp. “Or whatever you are calling yourself.” She looks me over as I twist my arm to loosen her hold. “An interesting disguise, I must say. Though I think pale coloring suits you best.”

“I’m not interested in what you think.” I wrench my arm free and step back. “Gerda lives in my realm. She’s my subject and none of your business.”

Sephia leans in, whispering in my ear. To the other guests we must appear like two close friends sharing a confidence. “You blighted my garden, Thyra Winther. And you seek to reconstruct the mirror. That makes everything you do my business.”

Clara Stryker and Gerda enter the ballroom arm in arm. As they stroll past Gerda turns to stare in our direction. Sephia hides her face behind a painted silk fan. I meet Gerda’s gaze and smile. The girl looks puzzled and pauses for a moment but Clara pulls her away. They head toward the small chamber orchestra that’s set up at one end of the room.

“What do you want with Gerda?” hisses Sephia from behind her fan.

I lift my chin and meet those glittering emerald eyes. “Merely to send her home, where she’ll be safe.”

“To keep her from her friend. You forget, I know who she seeks, Lady of the Snows. Do you, perhaps, have any knowledge of a boy named Kai?”

Behind my false face it’s not difficult to lie. “No. I only know Gerda’s far from home and her family misses her. It’s time she returned to them.”

“And you expect me to believe you only have her best interests at heart?” Sephia tosses her head, her hair gleaming like the borealis.

“It doesn’t matter what you believe. You have no power here.” I turn on my heel and stride away from the enchantress, daring her to follow.

I approach Clara Stryker and Gerda, glancing over my shoulder just once to watch Sephia watching me. Smiling as brightly as I can, I introduce myself to the two young girls.

“LaNévé?” Clara’s pronunciation of the words is more accurate than mine and her soft brown eyes are brimming with intelligence. I’m instantly aware that I shouldn’t underestimate her. “That means snow, doesn’t it?”

“Why yes,” I say, silently cursing her expensive education. “An old family name. We live in the mountains, you see.”

“So do I.” Gerda’s blue eyes are dimmed, like a summer sky filled with storm clouds. “Where’s your country, Lady LaNévé?”

“Far from here,” I say, examining the girl with interest. Sorrow has dulled the color in her cheeks but her face is still round as the curve of an apple. Her lower lip is fuller than the upper, making it appear that she is pouting. She hasn’t grown tall, but her figure has blossomed. It fills out the white dress in a way that’s sure to capture the attention of young Master Friis.

“Lady LaNévé, your gown is quite beautiful,” says Clara. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

“I imagine not.” I toss my head and attempt a trill of laughter to match the chirping of the ladies surrounding me. “It’s all the rage in my country but not quite the fashion here, as you see.” I fix my gaze on Gerda and call up a bit of my magic to focus her attention on my words. “But you, Miss Gerda, why are you not at home? You seem so young to be traveling on your own.”

“I’m fifteen.” Gerda squirms under my intense gaze. “I’m searching for a friend. He’s gone missing and I …” The girl blushes. “Well, I must find him and bring him home.”

“That’s very commendable. But just suppose your friend has found a great opportunity.” I glance at Clara, who doesn’t flinch under my scrutiny. “Would you deny him that?”

“No, no.” Gerda shares a look with Clara. “That’s the thing, you see. A young man recently appeared at the university, penniless but desperate for knowledge. Mr. Stryker met him there, when he was visiting Clara’s brother, and agreed to sponsor his studies. The young man’s coming here tonight and I think …” She turns to Clara and lays her hand on the other girl’s arm.

“Gerda thinks the young man might be her friend, Kai,” Clara says. “Traveling under another name, of course. We are anxious to see if her guess is correct. It would be quite wonderful, don’t you think? If my father were to be helping her friend, I mean.”

I spy Sephia advancing on us. “An amazing coincidence. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak with some of the other guests.” I turn away, calculating how to simultaneously get Gerda alone and prevent Sephia from speaking to her. As I move to waylay the enchantress the small orchestra launches into a rousing medley of opera tunes. Someone shouts “Quadrille!” and a wave of couples pours into the center of the room. The rest of the guests fall back against the walls like a receding tide.

Master Friis is instantly at my side, asking me to dance. I brush him aside and cross to the entrance hall, following the floating hem of Sephia’s gown. At that moment the great wooden doors are thrown open to the cobbled courtyard. A tall young man sweeps into the hall, followed by another boy. The young man whips off his maroon riding cloak and tosses it to a waiting footman. “We’re here at last,” he calls out in a clear tenor voice.

Hans and Elise Stryker hurry forward. The young man engulfs Elise in an embrace, lifting her off the parquet floor and spinning her about. “Mother! How well you look.”

“Put me down, Matthias,” scolds the older woman fondly.

Her son lowers her to her feet and kisses both her cheeks before turning to hug his father. “Mother, I’d like you to meet my friend, Jan. You’ve heard Father speak of him.”

Mathias draws the other young man forward. He’s short and rather plump, with wire-rimmed spectacles that are balanced precariously on his wide nose.

In observing this welcome I’ve lost sight of Sephia. I turn to see her shepherding Clara and Gerda into the front hall. I swear silently and move toward them, but Sephia’s too quick for me.

“Look, Clara, your brother and his friend have finally arrived.” Sephia’s words ring out above the din of other voices. She pushes the two girls forward. Clara skips into her brother’s waiting arms while Gerda hangs back, staring at Jan.

“It’s not Kai,” she says, her lips quivering. She uses the back of one hand to dash away the tears welling in her eyes.

Clara turns and glances from Jan to Gerda. “Oh, I am sorry, Gerda.” She bustles forward to clasp the younger girl’s trembling hands. “But we can keep looking, you know. And we’ll ask Matthias and Jan to help. You will assist us, won’t you?” Clara gives the two young men a meaningful look.

“Of course,” says Matthias. Jan just smiles and nods his head.

“It doesn’t matter.” Gerda yanks her hands free. “Thank you, Clara, for everything, but I can’t stay. Not now.”

“Don’t be foolish, child,” says Elise Stryker. “We can’t allow you to wander off alone again. Remain with us until you feel strong enough to travel home.”

Gerda shakes her head, loosening one of her golden braids. It snaps against her bare shoulder like a whip. She dashes up the staircase, weeping.

“I’ll go and see if she’s all right, if you wish.” Sephia smiles sweetly at the bemused Strykers, who are staring at Sephia and me as if wracking their brains to remember how we’re acquainted with them. “I know Gerda. Perhaps I can calm her.”

Hans Stryker nods brusquely as Clara retreats into her mother’s arms.

“I’ll go with you.” I stride to Sephia’s side. “I’ve some experience dealing with distraught young girls.”

With our backs to the others, only I catch the flash of anger in Sephia’s emerald eyes. I meet her furious gaze with my cold stare. “I hope you don’t think that presumptuous of me, Madame …?”

Sephia lifts her auburn head and stares down her nose at me. “Come then, Lady LaNévé,” she says, stressing the name. “Let us see if we can assist Miss Gerda.”

We pace each other up the stairs. Marching side by side past the row of portraits, we reach the end of the corridor as sounds of weeping seep around the corner.

I stride ahead of Sephia to the half-open door. “Miss Gerda,” I call, modulating my voice into something resembling concern. “Can we offer any assistance?”

“Go away, please.” Gerda’s voice is choked with tears.

I lay my hand on the knob just as the door is slammed in my face. The lock clicks but I still rattle the handle.

“Perhaps we should leave her alone.” Sephia’s words drip into my ear, sweet as honey from the comb. “I’m sure she’ll come out, sooner or later.”

“Too late now.” I step away from the door. “For me.”

“Yes, I daresay Gerda will resume her search for Kai Thorsen as soon as possible.”

I turn to face the enchantress. “And you’ll assist her?”

“I?” Sephia raises one delicate eyebrow. “No, I will simply stay out of her way. I’ve no wish to interfere directly, now that she knows Kai is still missing.”

Staring into those green eyes, I realize I can’t tell if she’s lying. “It would be better for Gerda if she just went home.”

“No doubt. But then you and Kai Thorsen—yes, I know he is helping you, though perhaps not by choice—might finish the mirror and I can’t allow that.”

“But you,” I speak slowly, the answer to a thorny equation finally apparent, “can’t travel to my realm, as I can to yours. You need Gerda to make the trip for you.”

Sephia’s eyes darken like the sea before a storm. “Such a clever girl. Voss did well to select you.”

“It’s good for him, at least.” I hear the echo of screams in my mind. “Now, shall we go back to the party? I’d like to collect my furs. I’m feeling a bit chilly.”

“You’re an accomplished liar, Snow Queen.” Sephia spins on one slippered heel. Her sea foam gown ripples like a wave about her slender form. “Come then, let us descend together. I warn you though—I intend to keep my eye on you.”

“How flattering,” I say, following her down the hall. “Perhaps I should introduce you to Master Friis. He likes to keep his eye on me as well.”

When we rejoin the party I watch the dancing for a while, using my concentration and a little magic to absorb the basics of the movement. I then seek out Karl Friis and dance with him and several other young men for hours. It’s a gambit that successfully prevents Sephia from leaving the ballroom.

***

The ball winds down with no further appearance from Gerda. She’s obviously chosen to lock herself away for the evening. As I gather up my furs and say goodbye to the Strykers, I calculate my next move. It should be easy enough to wander back to that empty room and change both my clothes and appearance. If I can slip outside without being seen I can make my way to the stables and saddle Freya. The woods behind the stables provide enough cover for me to watch for any sign of Gerda. I suspect she will set off early in the morning to resume her search for Kai.

My plan works perfectly, but as I guide Freya toward the grove of trees I hear voices and pause to listen.

“The young miss took off in the middle of the night,” says the stable boy, shaking beneath Sephia’s imperious gaze. “Miss Clara ordered a pony and trap. I dare not refuse.”