by Jim C. Hines
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
Danielle,
Rumpelstilzchen was a miserable wretch who deserved far worse than you would have given him. I promise in his final moments, he lived long enough to repent his crimes.
Evil as the filthy creature was, how much worse was his partner? A human betraying his own kind to the fairies. Very much like your stepsisters once did, no?
In gratitude for helping to rid the world of this foul creature and the human traitor, I’ve decided to offer you a gift. I’ve freed your stepsister Charlotte from her fairy mistress. Come alone to Stone Grove tomorrow at sunset and I’ll return her to you, to deal with as you see fit. Or if you’re too weak to see justice done, I’ll finish her myself.
Yours,
R
The handwriting was beautiful, every loop and whorl drawn precisely in brown ink. Danielle read the note a second time before passing it to Beatrice.
“What is it, Your Highness?” Andrew—the royal page—whispered.
Talia grabbed Danielle’s arm. “From this moment, you go nowhere alone. I want you armed at all times.” She turned to Andrew. “Go straight to King Theodore. Tell him to double the guards at the gates and on the walls.”
“You know who sent this,” Danielle said, staring at the severed toe.
Beatrice folded the note and returned it to the box. “Roudette has entered the palace once before. She would have killed me if not for Talia’s aid.”
“She’s known as the Lady of the Red Hood,” said Talia. “Having failed to kill Beatrice, it looks like she’s coming for you.”
Danielle stared. “You’re telling me Little Red Riding Hood wants to kill me?”
DAW Books presents these delightful fantasy novels
by Jim C. Hines
THE STEPSISTER SCHEME
THE MERMAID’S MADNESS
RED HOOD’S REVENGE
THE SNOW QUEEN’S SHADOW*
Jig the Goblin Series:
GOBLIN QUEST (Book One)
GOBLIN HERO (Book Two)
GOBLIN WAR (Book Three)
*Coming in 2011 from DAW Books
Copyright © 2010 by Jim C. Hines.
All Rights Reserved.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1515.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Nearly all the designs and trade names in this book are registered trademarks. All that are still in commercial use are protected by United States and international trademark law.
eISBN : 978-1-101-18867-5
First Printing, July 2010
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
S.A.
http://us.penguingroup.com
To my parents,
who continue to support and believe in me to this day.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
You hold in your hands my sixth novel for DAW. According to Wikipedia, six is the number that follows five, but precedes seven. Which you probably knew already, but I’ve spent the last two days buried in revisions, so my brain is mush and it’s helpful to double-check these things. Anyway, like my previous five books, this one wouldn’t exist without the help of a great many people:
My wife and children, first and foremost, who continue to put up with me and my bizarre writing habits; my editor, Sheila Gilbert, and everyone else at DAW—Debra, Josh, Marsha, and the whole family; my agent, Joshua Bilmes; my cover artist, Mel Grant—at the time I wrote this, the cover wasn’t actually done yet, but based on Mel’s previous work for my goblin books, I have no doubt this cover is going to rock.
Thanks also to fellow DAW author Seanan McGuire, fastest beta reader in the West. (Seanan is the author of the Toby Daye books, starting with Rosemary and Rue—check ’em out!)
Though she passed away in 2008, I also want to thank Janet Kagan, author of Uhura’s Song and Hellspark. Janet was one of the nicest people in the world, and her support and encouragement were invaluable to me as I was trying to figure out this crazy business.
Huge thanks to my online network of writers, fans, and fellow SF/F readers. The community and friends I’ve found online at places like Facebook, LiveJournal, my own site at www.jimchines.com, and yes, even Twitter, have been absolutely wonderful. Thank you for your support, your friendship, and just for being there to geek out with.
Finally, thank you the reader. I hope you enjoy this latest adventure of Talia, Snow, and Danielle.
CHAPTER 1
IF QUEEN BEATRICE’S PREDICTION WAS correct, this night would end in death. Unfortunately, Bea had been rather vague about whose.
Danielle pulled her cloak tighter against the chill of the autumn air as she crossed the courtyard. The walls of Whiteshore Palace broke the worst of the wind from the sea, but after sneaking from her bedroom, where the embers of the fireplace warmed the room and Prince Armand warmed the bed, even a gentle breeze was enough to make her shiver.
Leaves rustled against the base of the walls. The flowers on the ivy vines were shut tight against the cold, as were the wooden shutters on the windows. Atop the walls, the guards stayed close to their towers. If anyone did happen to glance into the courtyard, they wouldn’t see anything unusual in a lone servant girl hurrying to the storeroom by the stables on some unnamed errand. They certainly wouldn’t expect the Princess of Lorindar to be up and about at such an hour, or dressed in such a plain wool cloak and simple gown.
Danielle’s sword bounced against her left thigh as she joined her two closest friends. She hoped the sword would be unnecessary, but Queen Beatrice was rarely wrong about such things.
“Is everything prepared?” she asked as she reached the storeroom.
“I’m hurt you even have to ask.” Snow White’s voice was light and musical, almost childlike in her merriment. She had thrown back her own hood, allowing the breeze to play through her hair. Snow was younger than Danielle, though strands of white mixed with her night-black locks, the price of magic spells cast years ago. The moonlight accentuated the paleness of her face. Beneath her cloak she wore a white scarf and a fitted gown of blue linen that accentuated the curves of her body.
“We’ve been waiting nearly an hour. I was tempted to do this without you.” Dressed in a heavy cape over a rust-colored wool tunic, Talia Malak-el-Dahshat appeared to be the very model of a proper lady-in-waiting. She stood beside the storeroom wall, blending into the shadows. “They’re inside,
where it’s warmer.”
“Don’t mind Talia,” Snow said. “You know how cranky she gets when she hasn’t pummeled anyone in a while.”
“I had to wait for Armand to fall asleep,” Danielle said. If the prince had known what she had been doing these past two nights, he never would have agreed to let her risk herself. Especially after Queen Beatrice’s warning of blood and death.
Snow grinned. “There are ways of helping a man sleep.”
“I don’t think the queen would let you cast a sleeping spell on her son,” Danielle said.
Snow blinked innocently. “Who said anything about spellcasting? Some magic even you can perform, Princess.”
Two years ago, such comments would have left Danielle red-faced and stammering. Now she simply raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I didn’t?” She turned to Talia, ignoring Snow’s choked laughter. “Please tell them I’m ready.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Talia moved with the grace of a hunting cat as she strode to the door. She made no sound, despite the arsenal she kept on her person. Even on a normal day, Talia carried at least three knives, a set of darts, a small whip, and several more exotic weapons. Tonight she could probably arm an entire squadron of the king’s guards.
The storeroom door opened without a sound, thanks to a liberal coating of oil Talia had applied three nights past. The smell of dust and straw wafted from within.
Talia was first through the door, searching the corners before stepping to the right. Snow followed, taking a position on the opposite side. Piles of straw filled the storeroom, rising nearly to the roof and leaving only a narrow pathway down the center. An old spinning wheel sat at the very back of the room. A small, covered lamp hung from the far wall, the blue flame dancing in the draft. The fairy-spelled light would burn nothing but oil, unlike a regular lantern, which could have set the entire room ablaze.
Standing near the back of the storeroom were a middle-aged man and a young girl. A fringe of unkempt brown hair circled the man’s otherwise bald scalp. He wore an oft-patched jacket and stained trousers tucked into old boots. He smelled of sweat and mud. The sole of one boot flopped loosely as he stepped forward and dropped to one knee. “Your Highness.”
The girl did her best to imitate the movement. Her brown dress was little better than sackcloth, and her limbs were like sticks. She looked no more than five years old, though Danielle knew she should have celebrated her seventh birthday two months earlier.
Danielle slipped a hand beneath her cloak, touching the hilt of her sword. The weapon was glass, the hilt inlaid with hazelwood. This weapon was the last gift she had received from her mother’s spirit. Like her slippers, the glass was all but unbreakable, and the hilt fit Danielle’s hand as if cast to her flesh. The touch of that gift helped to ease Danielle’s anger, and she even managed a smile as she greeted Lang Miller. She crouched before the girl, and this time her smile was genuine. “Hello again, Heather.”
Heather ducked her head, hiding behind tangled hair. “Hello.”
From a pocket of her gown, Danielle pulled a small, paper-wrapped pastry. She peeled back the paper, revealing a honey- glazed cake made with figs and almond milk. “I saved this from dinner. Prince Jakob likes them, and I thought you might too.”
Heather pounced, snatching the cake from Danielle’s hand. Lang cleared his throat, and Heather froze.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” said Lang. “We’ve gone too long without proper meals, and I’m afraid my daughter’s manners—”
“I understand.” Danielle nodded to Heather, who needed no further encouragement to stuff the cake into her mouth as though she feared someone would try to steal it. “She looks like she’s not had a proper meal in months.”
“Her powers take a great deal out of her, I’m afraid.” Lang rubbed a dirty hand through Heather’s hair.
“Given those powers, I have to ask why . . .” Danielle gestured at their ragged appearance.
Lang chuckled. “Forgive my boldness, but you were once a commoner yourself, were you not? Locked away in the attic to serve your stepsisters and stepmother. Your father was doubtless a good man, but he couldn’t shield you from—”
“Your point, Master Miller?” Danielle hadn’t meant to speak quite so sharply. Talia glanced back, eyes narrowed in warning.
“I can’t protect her from such people,” Lang said. “Nor can I buy her safety. For a poor miller to start flashing gold about would be a siren song to every thief and kidnapper in Lorindar. I’m a simple man, Your Highness. All I want is for my girl to be safe and happy. I can’t give her that, but you could.”
“You have my word I will do everything in my power to protect her.” Danielle forced a lighter tone. “Heather will be well cared for.”
“So we have a deal?” asked Lang. Behind him, Heather’s tongue darted out to lick the last few crumbs from her lips. She stared up at Danielle, brown eyes wide.
Danielle grabbed a handful of straw and squeezed, feeling the stalks crunch and break in her hands. “The first night I suspected trickery. The second, I began to believe.” She gestured to Snow and Talia. “My servants have inspected every corner of this room. If your child can work her magic a third time, then we have an agreement.”
“You hear that, Heather?” Lang knelt and squeezed the girl’s shoulders. “Spin straw into gold again tonight, and you’ll never go hungry again. Princess Cinderella here will take care of you, and when you’re old enough, you’ll marry her son, Prince Jakob. You’ll grow up to be Queen of Lorindar!”
Heather’s expression didn’t change. Her gaze was empty, almost bored. Either she didn’t understand or else she didn’t care. She sucked her fingers and trudged toward the spinning wheel.
“We’ll hold a public betrothal tomorrow,” Danielle said. “When Jakob reaches thirteen years of age, they shall be wed.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Lang took Heather by the hand and whispered into her ear, then backed away. “Come morning, my darling girl will have filled this room with gold. Lorindar will soon be the richest nation in the Arantine Ocean.”
Danielle said nothing as she led Lang and the others from the storeroom. Talia pulled the door shut behind them, leaving Heather to her work.
“Snow will find you a place to sleep,” Danielle said.
“Thank you.” Lang rubbed his throat. “I don’t suppose I could trouble one of you ladies for something to drink? All that straw and dust is murderous harsh on the throat.”
“Of course.” Danielle was still watching Snow, whose brow was slightly furrowed.
Snow studied the storeroom, almost as if she could see through the wooden walls. Slowly, she smiled. With one hand she tugged her scarf free, revealing the shine of silvered glass from her choker.
At that signal, Danielle spun so abruptly that Lang almost walked into her. Forcing herself to relax, she said, “Before we retire, I would like to watch your daughter work, to observe this miracle for myself.”
Lang flashed crooked teeth. “I wish you could, but to view such magic is to rob it of its power. I stole a peek myself the first time she told me of her gifts. The gold vanished in an instant, swept away like sweets before a glutton. The shock of Heather’s broken magic left the poor girl abed for days. Don’t you worry, though. How she does it matters less than the results, eh? Those results will fill your treasury for years to come.”
Talia’s stance changed so subtly most people wouldn’t have noticed. Knees bent, one foot slightly forward, her eyes never leaving Lang Miller. Her hands remained tucked into her sleeves, where Heaven only knew what weaponry awaited.
Snow finished unwrapping her scarf. A choker of oval mirrors and gold wire circled her throat. Lang’s smile faltered slightly at the sight. He might not recognize the power of Snow’s mirrors, but he knew such decoration was unusual for a simple palace servant.
“Years, you say?” Snow tossed the scarf to the ground and reached into a pouch at her belt, pulling out a piece of straw.
“Strange. Most fairy glamours fade within a week at most.” She snapped the straw between her fingers and flicked it to the ground.
“Glamour, you say?” Lang’s grin tightened as he watched the straw fall. So intent was his gaze that he failed to notice Talia slipping up behind him until her arm snaked around his neck, pressing the tip of a curved Arathean dagger to his throat. His eyes went round, and a faint squeak escaped his lips.
Danielle winced as a thread of blood welled and dripped down Lang’s neck. Despite Queen Beatrice’s warnings, Danielle intended to do this without bloodshed if she could. “Easy, Talia. We want them alive.”
Talia snorted. “Alive and unharmed are two very different things.”
“If it’s fairy magic, I’m as much the victim as yourself,” Lang stammered. “Perhaps the fair folk left a changeling in my daughter’s bed. She has been behaving most strangely of late, not talking to anyone, refusing food until she starts to waste away—”
“If that’s true, then you’ve nothing to fear.” Danielle pushed her cloak back from her shoulders, revealing the sword at her side. The blade slid soundlessly from the leather sheath.
“What’s this?” Lang raised his hands. “You’re not trying to rob me of my prize, are you?”
“Your prize?” Danielle turned, her voice soft. It was a tone that would have sent her son fleeing in fear, but Lang didn’t know her well enough to recognize the signs of her fury. He would learn soon enough. “I wonder what her parents would say to hear her described so. Shall we ask them, Lang Miller?”
“My daughter—” Lang’s voice turned to a squeak as Talia jerked him around to face the door. He turned his head, trying to pull away from the knife. “What magic—”
“Snow’s spells won’t harm Heather,” Danielle said. “Her magic will simply ensure that nobody can leave this room by magical means.”