The Snow Queen's shadow pn-4

by Jim C. Hines

  “There wasn’t.” The certainty in Gerta’s voice was absolute. “You saw how many nobles fell to the demon, not to mention the king of Allesandria. Snow spent her life studying magic. She was gifted enough to rule, stronger even than our mother, though she never believed it. She knew there was but one way to undo what Rose Curtana had set in motion. She wouldn’t want you to grieve. She’d want you to celebrate her victory.”

  A cracking sound echoed through the throne room. A thin curtain of snow drifted from the ceiling. Danielle rose. “What happens to this place now that the demon is gone?”

  “Nothing good.”

  An animal like a dog with vestigial wings of edged ice charged toward them. Its snarls sounded more panicked then angry. Danielle tried to stand and draw her sword, but Gerta was faster, slapping a palm to the surface of the frozen lake. The dog yelped and limped away, favoring its front left leg. Blood dripped from its paw.

  “We can’t stay here,” said Danielle.

  Talia took a deep, shuddering breath. She rolled Snow’s body to face her, then leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

  Danielle held her breath. Once before, deep within Fairytown, Talia had awakened Snow from a curse with just such a kiss… but Snow was gone. Talia seemed to shrink into herself.

  “Talia, we have to go.” Danielle wasn’t letting go of her son, and Gerta was too badly hurt to physically drag Talia from the palace, assuming Talia didn’t knock her unconscious for trying.

  “You promised her,” Gerta said.

  Talia didn’t move. “You heard that?”

  Gerta tugged Talia’s shoulder. “Do you have the faintest idea what her spirit will do to yours if you stay here and let yourself die? It won’t be pretty.”

  Slowly, Talia nodded. She lifted Snow’s body, cradling her to her chest, and stepped away from the throne. “What about the traps?”

  “I should be able to take care of them now,” Gerta said.

  Danielle did her best to call out to Snow’s creatures, warning them to flee. She didn’t know whether they could understand her, or if they simply sensed the danger as the magic holding the palace together began to unravel. By the time they reached the doorway, the throne room was empty.

  Outside, a light snow was falling, but it couldn’t hide the carnage of battle. Tears spilled down Danielle’s cheeks at the sight of animals and monsters scattered over the ice, their blood staining the snow crimson. Trails of blood showed where the wounded had dragged themselves away into the woods. “I’m so sorry,” Danielle whispered. “Thank you.”

  With the darkling dead, they had no way of traveling, yet Danielle couldn’t bring herself to call upon the animals again. Not when they had given so much. “We’ll need shelter.”

  “No, we won’t.” Once they reached the edge of the lake, Gerta dropped to her knees and cleared a patch on the ice. Unlike the floor within the palace, the ice here was rippled and flawed, but Danielle could see Gerta’s reflection in the surface. “Frozen lake beneath my hand, show the ruler of this land.”

  Nothing happened at first. Danielle looked to the woods. “Should we-”

  “He heard me,” Gerta said firmly. “I imagine things are rather chaotic right now. Give him time.”

  It wasn’t long before Laurence appeared in the ice. His features were blurred, making it difficult to discern his expression. Or perhaps he obscured himself deliberately. “Gerta? You found Ermillina?”

  “The demon is gone, Cousin.” Her words were edged, particularly the last.

  Danielle stepped to Gerta’s side. “Snow gave her life to destroy it.”

  “Princess Danielle. I’m glad to see you well.” Something in Laurence’s manner broke, making him sound not like a king but a man, exhausted and lost. “What of your son?”

  “Jakob is safe,” Danielle assured him.

  “I will send my people to escort you to the docks. Allesandria is in chaos, and I would not have you hurt as we work to bring things under control.”

  “No,” said Danielle. “Tell your people to bring us to Kanustius.”

  Laurence stared. “Your Highness, Kanustius is in ruins. Half the palace is destroyed.”

  “Snow was Princess of Allesandria. She deserves to be remembered alongside her father.”

  Talia pursed her lips. “I think she’d like that.”

  “Princess Whiteshore, Snow White attacked this nation. The lords of eleven provinces are dead or missing. She slaughtered-”

  “She accepted this fate in order to destroy the demon her mother summoned.” All of Danielle’s grief, her fury at Snow’s death, threatened to pour forth. She tightened her grip on her son. “Rose Curtana was a monster. Snow destroyed that monster, an act which gave you your throne, and you banished her for it. Today, she protected you from Rose Curtana’s power a second time. She gave her life to protect you. You will not turn your back on her again.”

  “I helped my cousin to escape before,” Laurence said. “But the law-”

  “Damn your law.” Danielle glanced at the others. Gerta’s lips were tight with her own anger. Talia simply nodded. “You will pardon Snow White and give her the honor she deserves. Lorindar gave you your throne, Your Majesty. You will give this to Snow.”

  Laurence didn’t respond. A distant voice in the back of her mind warned she had pushed too far, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She took a breath to calm herself, then added, “Also, I would reclaim my sword from your keeping, along with our other belongings, which you took while we were imprisoned in your dungeon.”

  Even through the distortions in the ice, she saw him wince. “Very well, Princess Whiteshore. I will send one of my Stormcrows to retrieve you.”

  “Send as many as you can spare,” said Danielle, looking back to the crumbling palace. “There are many victims here in need of their magic.”

  Aside from Danielle and her friends, only the king and one of his Stormcrows attended Snow’s funeral. Her body had been cremated, her ashes mixed into the stone that formed her obelisk.

  That obelisk was in place by the time Danielle arrived in the memorial garden. The garden had been better protected than much of the palace, and the walls had survived relatively unscathed, but the smell of smoke lingered in the air. Danielle identified Snow’s memorial at once by the fresh-turned earth surrounding its base. Made of white stone, speckled with polished silver, her monument stood beside the obelisk of Snow’s father.

  Talia stepped forward, touching the letters carved into the side. The Stormcrow frowned at the breach in etiquette, and Laurence started to speak, but a glare from Danielle silenced him. She and Gerta joined Talia. Gerta wore a white bandage over her ruined eye. No healing magic could restore what the darkling had destroyed.

  “What is it, Mama?” Jakob asked from Danielle’s arms. He had refused to be separated from her, and Danielle was more than willing to keep him close.

  “It says there lived a woman called Ermillina Curtana,” said Gerta. “She was Princess of Allesandria, and she died protecting her nation.”

  The Stormcrow began to speak. A slight hunch stole his height, and his bald scalp was spotted by age, but his voice carried clearly through the garden.

  “An old blessing,” Gerta whispered. “It means ‘Be at peace.’”

  Laurence stepped forward next. He used his scepter to cut his palm, and paced a slow circle around the obelisk, dripping blood into the earth. Gerta translated his words as he vowed to protect both Snow’s remains and her memory.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Danielle said softly. She prayed he would keep his word.

  There were no songs. No prayers. Nothing but cold stone to mark Snow’s resting place. There had been no official proclamation, nor had Snow’s body been presented to the people as would be done with most nobles, but she was here among her family. She was home.

  Laurence stared at the monument, his expression impossible to read. “Tell me, Danielle. Was she happy?”

  “Almost alw
ays.” Danielle hesitated, tempted to leave it at that, to forget her other obligations and simply grieve for her friend. Instead, she turned to face him. “She searched for joy in everything she did, and if she couldn’t find it, she created it. Yet… there was pain. Loss. She kept it locked away, but it was there. She missed Allesandria. Her family. It was that buried pain that helped the demon turn her against you.”

  Laurence’s lips pursed. “You blame me.”

  “Blame changes nothing that has happened. But this was her home.” She watched him closely, searching his face. “As it was home to the fairies.”

  “I see.” Laurence was no fool. “You’ve not said how you were able to locate Snow’s palace, nor how you reached her without succumbing to her wasps.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “You believe fairykind will rebel against us, as my cousin did?”

  Danielle sighed, thinking of Bellum and Veleris. “I believe some of them are content to hide, while others bridle against the loss of their homes. I believe they are dangerous enemies, but they can be valuable allies as well.”

  And what of those who are both? She stepped away, leaving him to his thoughts. Talia had warned her, years ago. Never bargain with fairies. They always got the better of the deal. The Duchess had risked nothing but a darkling servant, and in return, she won Danielle’s son.

  “You’re welcome to remain here as long as you need,” said Laurence, “but I would recommend you let my people escort you to the harbor. The palace is broken, with only the crudest protections. With so many dead, my Stormcrows are spread thin.”

  They had at least taken the time to restore the monsters from Snow’s palace. The survivors of the Phillipa had already been returned to the ship, to repair the damage done in the demon’s attack and prepare for the voyage back to Lorindar.

  “Thank you,” said Danielle. “We will leave today.” She watched Gerta closely, uncertain whether she would want to remain in Allesandria. According to King Laurence, the law would not recognize a magical construct as a person, but if it was what Gerta wanted, Danielle intended to tell him exactly where he could put his laws. But Gerta simply nodded, keeping close to Talia.

  “One more thing, please.” The king spoke briefly to the Stormcrow, who bowed and left the garden. Danielle glanced at Gerta, who shrugged. Laurence waited until the door closed. “Ermillina came to Allesandria seeking vengeance. She murdered those who stood with her mother.”

  Danielle said nothing, uncertain where he was going.

  “As king, it is my duty to appoint new members of the Nobles’ Circle. Traditionally, those seats would go to the heirs, but that is tradition only, not law.” He gave her a tight smile. “Every crisis is an opportunity, and I believe I can gain enough support in the Circle to appoint those more worthy of the word ‘noble.’ ”

  Meaning some good would come of Snow’s actions. “Thank you, Laurence.”

  “If there’s anything else you need, you have only to ask it.”

  Danielle looked at Talia, who hadn’t moved. She stood like a statue, staring at Snow’s memorial. “Nothing you can provide,” she said sadly. She squeezed Jakob tight. “Only transportation to the harbor. It’s time for us to return home.”

  CHAPTER 24

  By the time the Phillipa arrived in Lorindar, a crowd had gathered to meet them. Even before they docked, Talia could see Prince Armand fidgeting impatiently at the front of the crowd, cupping his eyes as he searched the ship for Danielle and Jakob. When the crew lowered the gangplank, Armand was the first to board, nearly knocking one of his guards into the water in his eagerness. When he found his wife and son, pulling them both into an embrace, those on the docks broke into cheers.

  Talia used the celebration to slip away, hurrying down the gangplank and through the crowd. She didn’t begrudge them their happiness. The gods knew it had been hard-earned. She simply couldn’t be a part of it right now.

  The noise made it easy enough to liberate the prince’s horse from the post where he had left it. As she rode past the naval ships and into the commercial part of the harbor, she fought the urge to board the nearest ship, to sign on with anyone who could take her to a land where nobody had ever heard of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, or Snow White.

  Instead, she rode to Whiteshore Palace. She gave the horse over to a stable hand, saying only, “Armand decided to take a carriage back with his family.” From there, she went to the chapel.

  The heavy door in the back of the chapel which led to the royal mausoleum was locked, but there were no magical protections. Talia retrieved a small packet of metal tools from her left boot. Moments later, the lock was open and she was descending the stone steps. Soft flame flickered to life in the hanging lanterns, enchanted by Father Isaac to recognize visitors.

  Talia had always found northern burial traditions strange. Hiding the body, sealing it in earth and stone beneath the very ground where the living trod, felt disrespectful. Yet for more than two hundred years, the Whiteshore family had buried its dead here in this lowceilinged room. The first Whiteshore king lay entombed with his wife in the center of the room, their coffins carved from the bleached stone that gave the family their name. Later kings and queens were laid to rest in the walls to either side.

  Talia strode toward the back of the mausoleum, where the newest stone tablet gleamed white. Beatrice’s marker was modest compared to some of the others, marked only with her name and a carved swan.

  How long she stood there, staring at Beatrice’s marker, she didn’t know. Eventually, she heard the creak of the door, followed by light, careful footsteps.

  “Hello, Danielle.” Who else would it be?

  Danielle didn’t say a word. She simply joined Talia in front of Bea’s grave.

  “We should have been here for her burial,” said Talia. It had been close to three weeks since Beatrice’s death. There was no way King Theodore could have delayed the funeral for so long, and yet…

  “I know.”

  Talia swallowed. “Hephyra invited me to leave Lorindar, to sail with her. She told me I would never have Snow, that Beatrice would soon be gone, that you had your own family to look after.”

  “You’re a part of that family,” Danielle said firmly. “No matter what you choose.” Her unspoken question filled the mausoleum.

  “I don’t know if I can stay here. If Hephyra still lived…” Memories of Snow and Beatrice saturated every room, every hallway.

  Danielle put a hand on Talia’s shoulder. “Trittibar has asked that the Phillipa ’s mainmast be brought to the palace, to be planted in the courtyard.”

  For the first time since reaching Lorindar, Talia looked Danielle in the eyes. “Planted?”

  Danielle smiled. “She’s a dryad. Hephyra’s tree-the ship-survives. Trittibar says it could take years for her to recover, to heal the part of herself that was lost. But she will heal.”

  “That’s good.” Talia meant the words, even if she couldn’t feel them. She turned back to Bea’s marker. “And Armand?”

  “He is himself. Isaac and Tymalous have removed the glass from all those who were infected. Armand spent the entire trip from the harbor apologizing for the things he said and did. There seem to be no lasting effects of the demon’s touch.”

  “Good,” she said again.

  “If there’s anything you need, anything you want, you know you have only to ask it.”

  Talia took a slow, even breath. “Right now… all I want is to be left in peace.”

  “I understand.” Danielle took Talia’s hand, squeezed almost hard enough to hurt. “You’re not alone, Talia.”

  Talia nodded, but didn’t answer.

  For the next two weeks, Talia performed her duties as though in a trance. She moved through the palace from one task to the next, barely speaking to anyone. Danielle tried to engage her in conversation, but Talia had no heart for it. Even Jakob had done his childish best to make her smile, but their efforts only made Talia feel guilty when she was
unable to respond. She spent more and more time away from the others.

  Talia still expected to find Snow flirting with the blacksmith, or hear her teasing Danielle. Her chest clenched every time she passed a woman with black hair, every time she heard laughter ringing through the halls.

  She was locked in her room, paging through a century-old book of Arathean poetry, when someone pounded on her door hard enough to rattle it in the frame. “It’s Gerta. Open up.”

  Talia almost smiled at the impatience in her voice, so similar to Snow’s. Since returning to Lorindar, Gerta had been doing her best to fit into palace life. Danielle had given her permission to go through Snow’s library and try to make sense of Snow’s rather eccentric notions of organization.

  Gerta knocked again. “Last chance, Talia. I know you’re in there.”

  Talia glanced over to make sure the door was latched. “Go away.”

  Silence. There were no footsteps, so Gerta hadn’t left. Talia tucked the book beneath her pillow. As she stood, she smelled smoke rising from the door. Orange flames licked about the latch. The fire confined itself to a small ring, burning the wood to ash until the latch fell free and hit the floor with a clang. The door swung inward.

  Gerta tossed a bottle. Talia snatched it from the air without thinking. Arathean wine from the cellars.

  “Come with me,” ordered Gerta.

  Talia’s attention went to the embroidered green patch that covered Gerta’s lost eye. Another reminder of that day. Gerta said she was working on crafting a glass eye, one with a mirrored pupil, but perfecting the magic of that eye would take months. “What’s going on?”

  Gerta held two more bottles by the necks in her right hand. “Princess Whiteshore commands it.”

  “Did she command this, too?” Talia asked, lifting the wine.

  Gerta spun away. Considering Gerta had burned through the door to find her, Talia figured it best to see what Danielle wanted. She grabbed her zaraq whip and followed Gerta out into the hallway.