The Snow Queen's Shadow (13 page)

“I’ll look after him personally, my lady. I’ve three children of my own.” There was genuine sympathy in his words. “Your son will be with you again soon.”

“Thank you.” She looked to Talia and Gerta.

From the expressions on their faces, neither of them believed him either.

CHAPTER 10

T
ALIA HAD VISITED ALLESANDRIA ONLY once before. She hadn’t liked it then, either.

Mountains rose like a wall of shattered iron to the east, the tops dusted in snow. Lines of smoke decorated the sky to the west as they passed another village, the third since entering Tollavon the day before.

The wolfskin fanned her frustration. A part of her had wanted to remain with the
Phillipa,
to stay and fight. If Snow wanted to reclaim her throne, she had to come to Tollavon eventually. This demon had beaten them twice now. It wouldn’t do so a third time.

She quelled the wolf’s anger the best she could. She had been riding since she was five years old, and knew all too well how easily the animals sensed the tension of their riders. Her horse was jumpy enough about Talia’s cape, and wouldn’t have let her ride at all if not for Danielle’s urging.

Danielle was right. They weren’t ready to fight the demon. The cape might protect Talia from magic targeted at her, but it wouldn’t stop the demon from opening up the earth to swallow her whole, or shattering trees to crush her. Nor would the cape help her if the demon chose to use Jakob as a hostage.

Talia wasn’t the only one whose thoughts lingered behind. Danielle kept looking over her shoulder, her worry obvious even from a distance. She had barely spoken since leaving the harbor.

If Snow were here, she would have found a way to break the tension. An inappropriate joke or a ribald song. Even just prattling on about the white-barked trees along the road, the blue-tinged mushrooms growing on a fallen tree, or the techniques used to carve a path through the rock when the hills grew too steep. Talia saw no tool marks on the shoulder-high wall of dark, rippled stone which walled the road up ahead. No doubt it had been done with magic.

“I’ve finally come home.” Gerta’s expression was distant. She slowed her horse, allowing Talia to draw alongside. “I’ve returned to a land I’ve never actually seen. I could paint you every detail of our summer palace in the mountains, of the woods where my sister and I used to play, but I’ve never actually been there. None of it is real. All I have are memories.”

Talia shrugged. “That’s all any of us have.”

Gerta stuck out her tongue, her expression identical to Snow’s. “But yours actually happened.” Her smile faded. “What do you think Snow intended for me as she cast that final spell, splitting me from herself?”

“Snow doesn’t always plan things through,” Talia said. “She acts. Her instincts are usually good.”

“When she’s not releasing demons from their prisons, you mean?”

“I said usually.”

Gerta sighed. “How is this good? The demon took her, and I’m not strong enough to do anything about it. I’m not even sure I’m
real
.”

Talia nudged her horse to the edge of the road. She reached out and broke off a small branch, which she bounced off of Gerta’s shoulder. “You look real enough to me.”

“I’m part of her. She gave me so many of her thoughts and memories. But I’m not her.” Gerta lowered her eyes. Talia wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. “We’re different. Different thoughts, different desires.”

Talia stiffened. She had almost convinced herself Hephyra had been wrong about Gerta’s feelings. “How long until we reach this witch?”

“Another day at most.” Gerta guided her horse closer. “I don’t know what Snow intended for me. But one way or another, she’s going to want me back. If I’m to have such a short time on this world, why shouldn’t I pursue the things I want?”

“You’ll have time,” Talia said uncomfortably. “Whatever happens, I’m sure Father Isaac can find a way to help you both.”

Gerta stiffened. “Please don’t lie to me. I know how you feel about her.”

So much for pretending not to understand. Talia looked straight ahead. “Snow never wanted—”

“I’m not Snow.”

Talia squeezed her knees, urging her horse forward. “You were a part of her.”

“Maybe I’m the part of her that wanted you, that wanted to be able to return your feelings,” Gerta said. “Did you know she considered taking a love potion for you?”

“What?” She spoke so sharply that Danielle turned around. Talia waved her on. Fighting to keep the anger and confusion from her voice, she asked, “When did—Why would she do that?”

“Because she trusted you.”

“She never said anything.” But of course, Snow wouldn’t have discussed it. She would have just disappeared into her library and done whatever she wanted.

“She chose not to go through with it. Maybe because she knew how you’d react. Maybe because she was scared.”

More than once Talia had daydreamed about herself and Snow, but she had known such imaginings would never be more than idle fantasies. Snow’s preferences were obvious to anyone who knew her. What would Talia have done had Snow come to her, her emotions changed by magic? “It wouldn’t have been real.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Talia blinked. “What?”

“
I
was created by Snow’s magic. Am I real?” Gerta was speaking louder now, earning a concerned look from Danielle. “Snow loved you. So much that she thought about changing who she was, just to be with you.”

“Shut up.” Talia’s mind was already tormenting her with what could have been.

“Snow was afraid. I’m not.”

“You’re not her.”

“Neither was Faziya.” Gerta’s voice dropped, taking on a new edge. “Snow gave me those memories, too, how you brought Faziya back with you from Arathea. How the two of you spent the weeks together like husband and wife newly wedded. How you moped for days after she left.”

“I wasn’t moping,” Talia muttered. Had Snow actually been bothered by all of the time Talia spent with Faziya? If so, she had never let it show . . . but again, Snow wouldn’t.

“Your time with Faziya showed her the kind of love she could have,” Gerta said.

“And she chose not to,” Talia said, trying to regain her balance. “Instead, she created you. Made you fall in love with me. Why?”

Gerta shrugged. “Maybe to make sure I stayed close to you, the one person she trusted to protect me. Or maybe she simply wanted us both to be happy.”

Her voice was different than Snow’s. Deeper, with a stronger Allesandrian accent, but the intonation of certain words was the same as her sister’s. Her hair was flame, but with the impossible softness of Snow’s locks. “So you would have me take advantage of a child little more than a week old?”

“Do I look like a child?” Gerta’s lips quirked into a crooked smile. “I know you, Talia. Regret has been your bedmate for too many years, and I love you too much to see you alone and in pain.”

“I’m not alone.”

Gerta looked ahead. “Danielle has her prince. Beatrice is gone. Snow White has been taken from us all.” She reached out, brushing Talia’s arm with her fingertips. “Choose soon, Sleeping Beauty.”

Desperation tinged her final words. Talia didn’t answer, but her skin tingled with the memory of Gerta’s touch.

Snow stood at the bow of the newly renamed
Snow Queen
, watching fog roll toward her from the two approaching ships. The winds had changed as she approached Tollavon, until even the most experienced sailor would be hard-pressed to tack into the harbor.

It was no matter. Their weather mages were mere gnats compared to the man who stood at Snow’s side. Age had stolen much of Eminio Perin’s stature. His head was hunched forward, and his hands were swollen at the knuckles, but he retained the presence of one used to dominating the stage. Snow had first heard him perform when she was six years old. He had stood before the queen and her court, a wig of soft auburn curls spilling down to his chest, as he sang a song of his own composition, glorifying Queen Curtana.

There were whispers about his private meetings with the queen, but few guessed his true profession. Perin was also a skilled wizard, and his fame as a singer gave him access to noble audiences throughout Allesandria. During the political slaughter known as the Purge, Rose Curtana’s Deathcrows had executed dozens of nobles in their own homes. Perin had murdered eight that Snow knew of.

To most, the Deathcrows were but rumors, phantoms that fueled the nightmares of a generation of children. Some people refused to believe they had ever existed, but Snow knew better. Her mother had handpicked the deadliest of the Stormcrows to serve as her personal spies and assassins.

Only two of the queen’s secret killers had ever been brought to justice for their actions. The rest had gone into hiding after Rose’s death. But through the mirror, Snow knew them all, including the man called The Butcher. Snow had no doubt she could have defeated him, but it had been easier to infect the young servant girl who answered the door of his mansion.

It was that girl who slipped a tiny shard of glass into the venison sausage Perin enjoyed for breakfast the following morning. Wrapped in illusion, the sliver had bypassed his protective charms. He had suspected nothing until the glass pierced the inside of his throat, and then he belonged to Snow.

Fog poured forth from the harbor, boiling up around the hull and spilling onto the deck. Magical, of course, seeking out other magic. It clung to the crew, tasting the splinters of enchanted glass within their flesh. It surged toward Snow, but a whispered spell chilled the air around her. The fog drifted lower, forming swirls of white frost on the deck.

It didn’t interfere with her control. The crew worked in silence, struggling merely to maintain their position. Her men responded to her will without the crass disruption of shouted commands. It was both peaceful and efficient, and no mortal magic could tear her crew away from the beauty of their new queen. They were loyal unto death.

All save Jakob. Snow frowned as she glanced at her shoulder, where the prince shivered and fluffed his feathers for warmth. The boy knew no magic. His resistance came not from spellcraft, but from his very nature. Not for the first time, she considered killing him and taking what power she could, as her mother had once tried to do with her.

She shrugged and turned away. She would unravel Jakob’s mystery soon enough. Through the fog, she could see the shadows of two ships moving closer. Cannons thundered, warning her to hold her position.

Snow glanced at the Deathcrow. “Master Perin, if you would?”

Perin spread his arms. His skin rippled and flexed as black feathers sprouted from his body. His clothes tore away, and he jumped onto the rail, talons of black steel digging into the wood. Lightning crackled from his wings. He launched himself into the air, a crow painted of ink and shadow, larger than the grandest eagle.

The approaching ships would likely kill him, but he would distract them long enough for Snow’s magic to work. She reached into the pouch at her side, pulling out a mirrored triangle of glass no bigger than her palm. She had spent perhaps a third of the mirror’s fragments to get this far, but there should be more than enough glass to reach King Laurence and deal with whatever opposition he offered. She held one corner of the shard between her finger and thumb and rapped it against the rail.

The glass broke, spilling fragments into the water below. Snow brushed her hands together, dusting the last of the shattered glass into the water. Blood welled from tiny cuts on her palms, but her skin healed even as she whispered a new spell.

As screams broke out from the other ships, courtesy of Perin, Snow’s fragments rose from the water on wings of ice. This swarm was larger than the others Snow had created. With a wave of her hand, Snow sent her creations forth. They skimmed the waves toward the approaching ships.

Halfway there, the fog coalesced around her wasps. One by one, the magic holding them together began to unravel.

“Not bad,” Snow said. Behind her, men raced to load the cannons. She concentrated, and the rest of her wasps plunged into the water where the fog couldn’t reach them. They emerged again beyond the fog, and the shouts grew louder.

Most of her wasps were destroyed. She felt each death as fire magic melted her creatures, or gusts of wind smashed them to the deck, but it took only one, its wings shriveled away but its body intact, to crawl up a man’s boot and lodge its stinger in his leg. Only one crewman to truly see the world’s ugliness, and to turn against his fellows.

She pulled a second shard from her pouch and released another swarm. This time there was less resistance. She sensed Perin’s sudden agony as he fell, wrapped in magical fire, but he had served his purpose. By the time the
Snow Queen
drifted into cannon range, there was little need for guns. She fired a broadside anyway, and holes exploded in the hull of the nearest ship.

Answering fire came not from the two Allesandrian ships, but from a third vessel sailing from the harbor. She approached quickly, wind filling her sails as she leaped forward to meet the
Snow Queen
. Even through the fading fog, Snow recognized the
Phillipa
.

The
Phillipa
approached at an angle, all of her port guns firing. The
Snow Queen
trembled as cannonballs tore through the hull. Captain Hephyra had never been one to turn from a fight.