by Jim C. Hines
A great, meaty hand emerged from beneath the hair. Brahkop reached toward Talia. “So you plan to make me work for my meal, eh? Very well, let’s see how—”
Talia scooped up the crystal sphere with both hands and smashed it against the troll’s knuckles. He drew back, cursing, and Talia flung the sphere directly into his nose.
Brahkop staggered. Danielle hurried to join Talia, her sword ready. She tried to mimic the cold, determined expression on Talia’s face.
Brahkop sniffed and held up his hands. “Enough.”
“Are you sure?” Snow was browsing through the shelves. She pulled down a small vial of thick purple sludge. “I wanted a chance to try this. I’ve never seen what coagulated wyvern blood does to a troll.”
Dark blue blood dripped from Brahkop’s nose and slid down his hair. “I’m sure!”
Talia folded her arms. “In that case, I believe the Princess Danielle was asking for your help.”
“I can’t,” said Brahkop. “I made a deal.”
“Snow?” Talia said.
Snow smiled and began to work the stopper loose from the vial.
“No need to get violent, ladies,” said Brahkop, wiping his nose.
Danielle stared. “You were going to eat us!”
“I was hungry.” He shook his head, sending waves through his silver tresses. “Look, I’d like to help you. You beat me fair and square. But I can’t. Your stepsisters drive a tight deal, and part of that deal was that I say nothing of where they went or what they planned to do.”
Snow was carefully returning the vial to its place on the shelf. “Those of fairy blood can’t break a contract,” she said without looking up. “It’s in their blood. You could cut him to pieces, and he wouldn’t talk.”
“Let’s test that,” Talia said, drawing her knife.
“You know, you’re a very unpleasant human,” said Brahkop.
“Are you the one who taught my stepsisters magic?” Danielle asked.
Brahkop shook his head. “Sorry, can’t help you.”
“What exactly was this deal?” Snow asked, picking up a mummified bat with a wingspan as wide as her outstretched arms.
“Can’t say. It’s all very secret.”
Snow returned the bat to its shelf and picked up one of the weavings, an intricate pattern in a gold, octagonal frame. The strings formed the image of a leaping deer. “This is beautiful.”
“Troll hair,” said Brahkop. “All but unbreakable.” He fingered one of his braids. “My sister hit me with a curse, back when I got myself exiled. I could shave myself bald, and in an hour’s time, I’d look like this again. Fortunately, I managed to make a name for myself selling troll hair ropes and weavings. I can knit you a set of mittens that will protect you from icy cold or the heat of dragon fire.” He pointed to the door. “Nets like that sell for a pretty sum, I’ll tell you.”
“What about killing us?” Talia asked. “Was that part of the deal, or do you just like to murder royalty?”
“What royalty? I see three thieves who tried to break into my shop,” Brahkop protested. “Royalty doesn’t pick locks and wake hardworking trolls in the middle of the day and—”
“Sure we do,” said Danielle. She lowered her sword and did her best to meet the troll’s gaze. She wasn’t entirely sure where the eyes were, beneath all that hair. “My stepsisters paid for your help. I’d like to do the same. I know you can’t tell us where they went, but what can you sell me that would help us find my husband? If he happens to be with my stepsisters, that’s certainly not your fault.”
Brahkop cocked his head, making him look like an overgrown sheepdog. “Clever. You’re sure you don’t have fairy blood?”
“I’m sure.” Danielle pointed to Snow. “She’s a witch—”
“Sorceress,” Snow corrected.
“—so she can use any magic you give us. Please.”
“You’re talking some mighty powerful magic,” Brahkop said. “That sort of spellcasting doesn’t come cheap.”
“I warned you about bargaining with them,” Talia said. “He’s planning to trick you.” She gave a disdainful sniff. “I doubt he even has the power to find your stepsisters.”
“Oh, please.” The beads in Brahkop’s hair rattled as he chuckled. “Play that game on one of the beast caste, but don’t expect to trick me into anything. I keep my bargains. You pay my price, I’ll help you find your prince.”
“What price?” Danielle asked.
“The child,” said Brahkop.
Danielle glanced at her companions. “What child?”
“The one you carry in your womb, Princess.”
Danielle felt like he had punched her in the stomach. She stepped back, nearly dropping her sword. “I’m not . . . How can you—”
“We’re sensitive to this sort of thing,” Brahkop said. He gently tapped the side of his nose. “It never lies. They say my great grandmother could tell you the baby’s sex a week before you made it. I could smell it the moment you came through that door.” He sniffed. “That’s before your friend smashed me in the face, of course.”
“No,” Danielle whispered.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of the little guy,” said Brahkop. “Changelings are treasured, treated like royalty. Better than royalty, given the way you people treat your noble children.”
“The little guy?” Danielle repeated. A son. Hers and Armand’s.
“Why do the fairy folk always want human children?” Snow asked. “Do you know how many diapers you’d have to change? And what would you feed him?”
“Most of us are none too fertile, especially the higher castes,” said Brahkop. “Then there are those who just like the taste. Not me, though. Not enough meat.”
Snow put a hand on Danielle’s arm. “If he’s telling the truth—”
Danielle jerked away from Snow’s touch. “You want my child?” she whispered.
“Afraid so,” said Brahkop. “Hey, if it helps, I’d be happy to let you visit the lad, when he’s older.”
Danielle grabbed a handful of the troll’s hair and yanked his head down to her level. The tip of her sword poked through the hair. “No,” she whispered. “You helped my stepsisters destroy my mother. Now you’re going to help us find Armand.”
Brahkop started to shake his head. Danielle thrust her sword forward, eliciting a startled yelp.
“In exchange,” she went on, “I’m going to let you live.”
Her hands trembled with fear and rage. The troll was strong enough to snap her in two, but it wasn’t Brahkop she feared. What frightened her was the realization that she meant every word of her threat. She had never wanted to kill anything before, but she would thrust her sword through his throat if she had to.
“We don’t need him,” Snow whispered.
Slowly, Danielle turned to face her.
“I can find Armand.” There was no doubt in her voice.
“There you go,” said Brahkop. He stepped back, gently tugging his hair from Danielle’s grasp. “Problem solved. We can all relax and—”
“I want you gone from this place,” Danielle said, keeping her sword pressed against his chest.
“What’s that?” Brahkop asked.
“Are you forgetting how you tried to kill the princess of Lorindar with your net?” Danielle moved forward, driving the troll back a step. “Tomorrow morning, I’m sending a battalion of the king’s guards down here with orders to rip apart every last stone of your little lair. This bridge will be broken one stone at a time. The tunnels will be collapsed. Anything left behind will be burned.”
“You can’t—”
“That includes yourself,” Danielle finished. By now, Brahkop stood with his back to the wall.
“I’ll protest to the queen!”
“Which one?” Snow asked, her voice sweet. “The fairy queen who exiled you, or Queen Beatrice, whose son you helped Charlotte and Stacia to kidnap?”
Brahkop didn’t answer.
�
�Come on, Your Highness,” Talia said, putting a hand on Danielle’s arm. “Our troll friend has a lot of work to do if he’s going to get everything packed up in a day. We should leave him to it. Unless you’re planning to kill him?”
The calm, matter-of-fact tone of her question helped draw Danielle back from her anger. She could kill Brahkop if she chose, and nobody would stop her. A simple push would drive the blade into his heart.
Slowly, she shook her head. She refused to taint her mother’s last gift by murdering an unarmed troll, no matter how much he might deserve it. She turned away, still shaken by the intensity of her reactions.
She had only taken a single step when Talia grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her off-balance. Talia twisted the sword from Danielle’s hand and spun.
Danielle crashed to the floor. She rolled over to see Talia ducking to the side, avoiding Brahkop’s huge fists. Talia swung the sword. The glass sword cut a deep, dark gash along the troll’s arm, above the elbow.
Brahkop howled and stumbled back. Talia leaped after him, cutting his other arm at the wrist, then thrusting the sword at his face. Brahkop fell onto the floor, barely avoiding the attack.
“Wait! I won’t try to stop you, I promise. I’ll leave tonight. My word as a fairy!”
Talia pressed her heel against Brahkop’s chest. The sword rested against the side of his neck. The hair had fallen away to reveal the pale blue of his throat. Talia didn’t appear to be putting any weight on the sword, but the edge was still sharp enough that blood beaded along the glass.
“You’re the princess of Lorindar,” said Talia. “It’s your right to decide whether he lives or dies.”
Danielle pushed herself up. Her elbow throbbed. She would have a nasty bruise from that fall. “He’s bound to keep his word, right?”
“It’s in their blood,” said Snow.
Danielle’s body was numb as she turned and walked through the doorway. Snow followed. Talia shut the door behind them, then handed the sword back to Danielle.
“Next time you turn your back on an angry troll, Highness, you’re on your own.” Talia walked away, shaking her head and muttering something about naive children trying to get themselves killed.
Danielle barely heard. She kept hearing Brahkop’s voice in her mind, over and over.
She was going to have a son.
CHAPTER 5
DANIELLE STOOD BEFORE Snow’s great mirror, turning this way and that as she studied her reflection. Her cycle had been erratic since she moved to the palace. She touched her stomach with one hand as she counted the weeks. It could have happened at any time during the last month of her journey with Armand. Their stay in Emrildale was a likely guess. Snowed in for three days with so little to do. . . .
She had blamed the slight bulge of her stomach on her new diet. Of course she had gained weight now that she was eating full meals on a regular basis.
She wondered if her mother had known. If Brahkop could sense her unborn son, surely her mother’s spirit had done the same. She wanted to believe. The idea that her mother endured long enough to learn of her grandson brought some small sense of comfort.
She flexed her hand, still tender from the demon’s attack.
“Here,” said Talia, coming into the room. She held a white leather scabbard. “It might be a little long for that blade, but at least you’ll be able to carry it without hauling those blankets everywhere.”
“Thank you.” She picked up the sword and slid it into the scabbard, smiling faintly when she noticed the embossed snowflake worked into the leather. “Does Snow still need this?”
“Nope.” Snow hurried into the room behind Talia.
“The queen will be down shortly.” To Danielle, she added, “That was from my training blade, back when Talia was trying to turn me into a warrior woman. I told her I preferred magic, but she insisted I learn to defend myself.”
“What happened?” Danielle asked.
“She cheated,” Talia grumbled.
Snow covered a giggle with her hand. “I cast a spell on my sword. I lunged, she parried, and the instant the blades touched, they both turned into giant daisies. Talia was so surprised, I managed to whack her on the head with mine. She had yellow specks of pollen in her hair for the rest of the day.”
Danielle managed a weak smile. She raised her arms as Talia belted the sword around her waist. When she finished, Danielle ran her fingers over the hazel patterns in the crossguard.
“Danielle?” The queen’s face was red, and she was breathing hard. Without a word, she crossed the room and pulled Danielle into a tight hug. “Snow told me about your mother, and about your son.”
Danielle didn’t move. A part of her wanted to bury her face in the queen’s shoulder and weep, and another part wanted to pull away. She did neither, and after a moment, the queen stepped back. Beatrice’s gaze went briefly to the sword. “I wish I could have known her. She seems a truly remarkable woman.”
Danielle’s throat tightened. She managed a tight nod.
Mercifully, the queen appeared to notice her discomfort and changed the subject. “Snow also tells me you threatened to loose my guardsmen on that horrible troll.”
“I didn’t mean to overstep myself,” Danielle said. “He threatened—”
“I know what he threatened.”
Danielle took a deep breath. “I’ve never been so angry. But I never thought he would take me seriously. I’m not—”
“You showed him a good deal more mercy than I would have,” Beatrice said. A hint of a frown tugged her lips. “I’ve already ordered my men to carry out your orders. By this time tomorrow, Brahkop’s home will be nothing but rubble.”
Danielle managed a nod as she struggled to understand. The idea that she could command that Brahkop’s house be destroyed, that she had the power to make that happen . . . it frightened her.
“You’re princess of Lorindar, remember?” said Talia.
“And that child is my grandson,” added the queen, her face softening. “The future heir to the throne.” She hugged Danielle again, then smiled. “You should have seen Theodore’s face when I told him it was a boy. He had been talking to Captain Grant about mounting a few more cannons on the north wall. He sent everyone away in the middle of the meeting. Apparently, it’s not kingly to be teary-eyed in front of your men.”
A harsh scraping sound interrupted them. Snow dragged a heavy stool across the room, setting it in front of the mirror. “I’m ready.”
“Come,” said the queen. She placed a gentle hand on Danielle’s shoulder. “Let us find my son.”
The hilt of Danielle’s sword jabbed her beneath the ribs when she tried to obey. She wrenched the belt around and sat.
Snow leaned down, so close her breath tickled Danielle’s ear. “Stare into the mirror. Think of your husband. Any memory will do, but the more vivid, the better.”
The first thing that came to mind made her face burn. She shoved that memory aside, on the chance that Snow might be able to see her thoughts. Instead, she tried to remember the day after the ball, when Armand had come to her house. She remembered the feel of his hand on hers as he helped her into his coach. Her stepsisters had been screaming, her stepmother fuming, but Danielle barely heard.
Only when the door was shut and the horses’ hooves began to clop as they drew her away had she started to believe this was real. Years of unshed tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped her face and turned away, hoping Armand wouldn’t see.
From the window, she saw Charlotte and Stacia standing in the road, blood pooling around their feet. Danielle shuddered. That her stepmother had been so horrid to Danielle all these years was bad enough, but that she would maim her own daughters. . . .
Armand reached past her, pulling the curtains closed and shutting out that part of her life. Danielle gasped when she saw the fresh blood on his sleeves. Drops of vivid crimson stained the white satin of his pants as well.
“I’m so sorry,” Danielle whispered. “My s
tepmother, she . . .” She shook her head. “We must soak those in cold water before the stains set. We can stop at Helena’s Apothecary Shop over on Garden Street. Watersnake venom will break down the blood and release the stains, and I can—”
Only then did she realize the prince was laughing. His shoulders shook, and he held his clean hand to his mouth. She drew back, confused.
“Please don’t be offended, love,” Armand said. He glanced down at his clothes. “This is nothing. I’ve never liked this outfit anyway. So much gold thread . . . I feel like a pirate’s treasure.” Another bout of laughter took him.
Slowly, Danielle’s mood changed to confusion, then annoyance. “What’s so funny?”
“I’ve spent my life surrounded by politics,” Armand said, still chuckling. “My parents were always fiercely protective and loyal to their only son, but the same can’t be said for the endless aunts, uncles, cousins, and other relatives scattered across Lorindar. Backstabbing and betrayal were as much a part of my diet as fish and venison.”
An unprincelike snort escaped his nose. “On this day, I’ve finally met a family to make my own seem pleasant.”
“That’s good,” said Snow, startling Danielle from her memory and drawing her back to the present. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, still feeling Armand’s touch, hearing his laughter. Was it the mirror’s power that brought such vividness to the memories?
Danielle tensed her legs, bracing herself against the sensation that she was tumbling into the mirror. Her reflection seemed to grow, as if the glass were falling toward her.
Snow’s voice was a delicate breeze across Danielle’s cheek. “Mirror, mirror, old and great. Show me Princess Danielle’s mate.” She giggled. “Assuming you haven’t mated with anyone else recently?”
Danielle shook her head, too disoriented to take offense.
“Concentrate, Snow,” snapped Talia.
Like ripples on the water, dark rings spread across the center of the silvered glass. They rebounded from the edge of the frame, blurring Danielle’s reflection. Colors and shapes flashed past between the rings.