by Jim C. Hines
“I spent half a day preparing,” Snow said cheerfully, moving toward the door. “You’re right about the straw, by the way. Nasty stuff.”
“Remain silent.” Danielle readied her sword and nodded.
Snow yanked open the door.
Inside, Heather sat playing in the straw. Behind her, a tiny man dressed in red sat at the spinning wheel. Had he been standing, his feathered cap would have barely reached Danielle’s midsection. Gold straw tangled the white mane of his hair.
He cried out, jumped to the ground, and clapped his hands together.
Nothing happened.
“That won’t work.” Snow beamed. “The wards are similar to those on the palace wall, the ones that prevent anyone from using magic to enter the grounds. I removed those three nights ago, just for you.”
“Rumpelstilzchen?” Danielle rested the tip of her sword on the dirt floor. “Also known as Tom Tit Tot, Whuppity Stoori—”
Rumpelstilzchen covered his ears. “Stop it! What demons whispered those names in your ear, lady?” Spying Lang beyond the door, he hopped up and down, fists clenched. “Lang Miller, you ungrateful traitor!”
“Actually, I’m the demon who learned what you really are,” Snow said brightly. “With some help from Ambassador Trittibar of Fairytown.”
“Don’t blame me for this mess, you miserable dwarf!” Lang shouted. “You’re the one who said Lorindar would be an easy target! I told you we shouldn’t have come here!” With those words, Lang seized Talia’s wrist with both hands, forcing her knife back. He twisted free of her hold and swung a fist at her.
Danielle winced as Talia ducked easily beneath Lang’s punch. In the same movement, Talia stepped close and drove an elbow into his stomach. Danielle winced again.
Shortly after Talia’s birth, the fairies of Arathea had blessed her with various “gifts,” including superhuman grace and the ability to dance like an angel. Such skill and grace had helped her to become the deadliest warrior Danielle had ever known.
“Never tell the prisoner you want him alive,” Talia said, following up with a kick to Lang’s knee. “It makes them overconfident.”
“Sorry.” Danielle rested both hands on her sword. “Tell me, Rumpelstilzchen, how many children have you stolen over the years?”
He watched Snow and Danielle warily. “The boy’s right. I should have known better than to set foot on this isle. Your people and your damned treaty, shackling fairykind like dogs.”
“We shackle you?” Danielle looked pointedly at Heather, who continued to play in the straw, oblivious to everything going on around her.
“She’s happy,” he insisted. “Free of worry or woe.”
“With no memory of who she was.” Danielle raised her sword. “Victim of the same spell you meant to cast upon my son, robbing him of his memories before you stole him away.”
“I rescue them from lives of mortal drudgery!” He clapped his hands again, then scowled at the walls.
“A gnomish friend taught me how to block summoning magic,” Snow said. “He was much better at it than you. Better looking, too, with a much longer beard.”
Outside, Lang shouted, “Get out of my way before I rip you apart, wench!” His voice carried clearly through the open doorway. A moment later, the wall trembled, and a shower of dirt and dust rained down from the roof. Danielle could hear Lang groaning.
Snow shook her head. To Talia, she called out, “Remember, Beatrice is going to make me patch him up when you’re through!”
Shouts carried through the courtyard. The guards must have heard the commotion. Even now they would be racing down the stairs.
“Why?” Danielle whispered to Rumpelstilzchen. “Why do you take them?”
“Can’t help myself, really.” He edged closer. Snow folded her arms, and moonlight flashed from her choker. Rumpelstilzchen raised his hands in surrender. “It started with just the one. Is a single unborn child so much to ask in exchange for turning a peasant girl into a queen? But after the first, I wanted more. Your people will trade anything for the promise of wealth and power. I’ve collected royal children from lands you’ve never dreamed of, Princess.”
“And now you’ll turn them over to me.” Danielle was amazed she could still speak with such calmness. This wretched creature had come here to take Jakob, to rip away her son’s mind and turn him into another pet prince for his collection.
“You want them back?” Rumpelstilzchen smiled. “Then it seems we’ve a bargain to arrange. You can keep the girl, of course. I’ll throw in a bouncing lad in exchange for your witch lowering her wards. Keep Lang, too. The boy’s long since outlived his usefulness.”
Danielle’s sword hissed through the air. Rumpelstilzchen yelped and dove behind the spinning wheel. The severed feather from his cap drifted down to land in front of his chin.
“You misunderstand me,” Danielle said slowly. “You will release every child you’ve stolen, and you will give us their names so that we can restore them to who they were. When I’m satisfied, you will be turned over to Lyskar to face whatever punishment they see fit.”
Rumpelstilzchen picked up the feather. “Forgive me, but that doesn’t seem like much of a bargain, Highness.”
“I’m. Not. Bargaining.” Danielle jabbed her sword into the dirt. For three nights she had swallowed her anger, watching helplessly as Lang Miller whisked Heather away each morning. Three nights working to confirm Heather’s identity while Snow prepared her spells. Tonight this ended. “Refuse, and I’ll give you to Fairytown. I’m told human justice pales at the torments the fairy lords can inflict.”
“You’ve no idea, my lady.” Rumpelstilzchen gestured with one hand, and Heather stood. “Very well. Take her. Assuming she wants to be returned.” He shouted a word in a language Danielle didn’t recognize.
Snow yelled a warning as Heather screamed and threw herself at Danielle. Heather’s face was feral. She kicked and bit, her nails clawing at Danielle’s skin.
Danielle shoved her away, holding her sword high to keep Heather from impaling herself. Rumpelstilzchen ran past, but she trusted Snow to deal with him. As Heather attacked again, Danielle said, “Hevanna V’alynn Presnovich!”
The girl collapsed to the floor. Danielle’s throat tightened. She had practiced for hours to make sure she could pronounce Heather’s true name, but neither Snow nor Trittibar had known exactly what would happen when Rumpelstilzchen’s spell was broken. Was Hevanna’s the death Beatrice had seen? The girl had come so close to killing herself on Danielle’s blade.
Snow blocked the doorway, but as Danielle watched, Rumpelstilzchen clapped his hands and Snow vanished, reappearing behind him. Snow’s wards kept him from escaping, but he could still use his powers within the confines of those wards.
Now, Danielle said silently.
Rats burst from the straw, swarming over Rumpelstilzchen. He screamed and fell, rolling about as their teeth pierced clothes and skin.
Danielle winced at his cries. She hadn’t asked the rats to be quite so bloody, but this wouldn’t be the first time animals had responded to the rage in her heart. She turned to check on Hevanna. The girl’s eyes were closed, and her breathing came in quick gasps.
“She’s all right,” Snow said. “She needs rest and real food.”
Danielle sagged in relief. She turned to see Talia standing in the doorway. “What about Lang?”
Talia glanced to one side. “He’ll live.”
She could hear the guards approaching. “Tell them to be careful with Lang. We don’t know what tricks he might have learned from a lifetime with Rumpelstilzchen.”
Talia nodded and disappeared out the door. Danielle stepped toward Rumpelstilzchen and ordered the rats back.
“Lyskar will kill me!” he gasped.
“They might show mercy once their daughter is returned.” Danielle nudged one recalcitrant rat with her toe, pushing him away. “Five years they’ve hunted for her.”
“It’s a sickness,” Rumpelstilzc
hen said. “I’ve tried to stop, but every time I looked upon those sweet, succulent faces, those helpless lads and lasses—”
“You should probably stop talking now,” Snow suggested, fiddling with her choker.
“Return every last child,” Danielle said, fighting to keep her voice even. “Give us their names. I will ask Lyskar to spare your life.”
“You won’t leave me even one to—” Something in Danielle’s expression made him swallow. “All of them. My word as a fairy.”
Snow removed one of the mirrors from her choker and reached toward him.
“No need for magic,” He protested, squirming away. “Fairy vows are unbreakable.”
“We know,” said Talia. Danielle hadn’t even noticed her return. “Just as we know how easily that word can be twisted. You’ll free them, but when? Where? In what condition?”
Snow pressed the mirror to Rumpelstilzchen’s forehead and whispered an enchantment. When she pulled back, a silver oval marked his skin. “It’s not a true fairy mark, but it should bind him just the same.”
Danielle sheathed her sword and scooped Hevanna into her arms. “Take care of him while I find a bed for our young princess. I’ll contact Lyskar and let them know we have their daughter.” She started toward the door, then hesitated. “Thank you both.”
“It was fun,” Snow said brightly. “I’ve wanted to try that binding spell ever since Trittibar showed it to me.”
Talia was staring at Rumpelstilzchen. “You should have let the rats finish him.”
Danielle didn’t trust herself to answer. She stepped into the night air and breathed deeply. Two guards were carrying a moaning Lang Miller away. The rest drew to attention.
“Is everything all right, Your Highness?” asked one, obviously uncertain how to react to the sight of his princess and her servants having beaten two strangers into submission.
“It is now.” Danielle smiled. Charles was new to service, and, like many, he probably assumed Danielle’s glass sword to be a ceremonial weapon meant only for show. “Thank you for your quick response.”
“And Queen Bea thought this would be hard,” Snow said, brushing straw from her dress.
Danielle said nothing. Beatrice had predicted blood and death. True, the rats had left Rumpelstilzchen bleeding from dozens of wounds, but none of his injuries were serious. Talia had also held back, as far as Danielle could see. Perhaps Beatrice had been mistaken. Or perhaps the danger hadn’t yet passed. “Snow, could you—”
“I’ll make sure our guests don’t try anything,” Snow said.
Danielle hugged Hevanna to her chest. “Well done, both of you.”
“You too, Princess.” Talia gave her a wry smile. “I think you’re finally starting to get the hang of this.”
CHAPTER 2
DANIELLE AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING to the sensation of a two-year-old prince plopping his knee squarely into the middle of her stomach. “Mama, up!”
She groaned and tousled Jakob’s blond hair. “I’m awake.”
Jakob grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the edge of the bed. “Up!”
Prince Armand stood in the doorway, smiling as he watched them. Tall and lean, wearing a jacket of dark green velvet that brought out his eyes, he looked so different than he had when Danielle first danced with him at the ball. That night he had been polite and formal, a prince even as he flirted. This morning, he was simply a father and husband, content to watch his son maul his wife. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but he was getting upset.”
Stifling a yawn, Danielle stood and scooped Jakob into her arms. She hadn’t bothered to change clothes before crawling into bed, and her gown was a wrinkled mess.
“Long night?” Armand asked. A neatly trimmed beard couldn’t hide his mischievous smile. “I’m told there was a commotion in the courtyard near the stables.”
“We found Princess Hevanna,” said Danielle.
“Hevanna of Lyskar?” Armand stared. “That’s wonderful! How—”
“A foreign fairy named Rumpelstilzchen. Beatrice asked that we not announce Hevanna’s rescue until she’s safely home.” Danielle squeezed Jakob until he squirmed, then reluctantly set him down. “Hevanna was the first of twenty-three children he returned to us.”
Danielle had been up most of the night finding room for them all and people to look after them. She hadn’t gotten to bed until nearly sunrise.
“Oh, no.” she said, staring at the window. The sun-beam was nearly vertical. She started for the door, then spun back around. “Where did I leave my sword?”
Armand opened the wardrobe and retrieved her sword from between her skirts. “You left it beside the bed. When I woke up, Jakob was dragging it toward the door. No doubt planning to threaten Nicolette into giving him more sweets.”
“Thank you, love.” Danielle kissed him, bent to kiss her son, and raced into the hallway toward the stairs. “I’ll be back soon!”
Low-floating clouds drifted overhead as she crossed the courtyard, heading for the chapel. Talia was already waiting. She looked alert as ever despite spending the entire night helping Snow and Danielle with the children.
Danielle stifled her envy. Talia hadn’t slept a single night since awakening from her cursed slumber. On those nights when she wasn’t fighting fairy kidnappers, she passed the hours roaming the palace or practicing her fighting skills or, more recently, checking to make sure Prince Jakob hadn’t woken up and snuck out to explore.
“You’re late.” Talia smirked as she took in Danielle’s appearance. “Are you barefoot?”
“Hush!” Danielle glanced behind, half afraid she would see her handmaidens chasing after her. Sandra and Aimee would be outraged at the thought of their princess running about in such a state, straw tangled in her hair, rat fur clinging to her gown. “Is Snow here yet?”
“Still sleeping.” Talia stepped aside and pulled open the door. “Magic takes a lot out of her lately. The binding spell wasn’t too bad, but then she stayed up using her mirror to try to break Rumpelstilzchen’s charms. The little beast didn’t even know the true names of half of his stolen children.”
The smell of incense greeted Danielle as she entered the chapel. In the past, she and the others would have reported to Queen Beatrice in the secret chambers beneath the palace, but everything had changed after a mermaid attacked Beatrice more than a year before.
A knife to the chest would have killed most people. It would have killed Beatrice if not for Snow’s quick intervention. Today the queen’s spirit was strong as ever, but her body was so frail she could barely manage stairs without assistance.
Beatrice sat with Ambassador Trittibar of Fairytown near the front of the chapel, heads close together as they spoke.
Danielle hurried to join them. The stone tiles were cool beneath her feet. As she walked, she could feel herself relaxing. She glanced at the stained glass windows in the upper walls, the colored panes laying spells of peace and protection over all who entered. Father Isaac’s magic was subtler than Snow’s, but it was still powerful.
“I’m so sorry,” Danielle said as she reached the queen. “I asked Aimee to wake me, but—”
“I told her I’d have her shoveling stables if she dared.” Beatrice gripped a gnarled oak staff in both hands for support as she rose to her feet. “You’ve earned a night’s rest, Danielle.”
Danielle kissed the queen’s cheek. She smiled to hide her grief at Beatrice’s appearance. Everything about Beatrice was thin. Her hands, her hair, even her voice was weaker than before. She wore a heavy cloak lined with rabbit fur for warmth, though the day was relatively mild.
Beatrice was dying. Almost everyone in the palace recognized this, though none spoke of it. Every day she faded a little more.
Danielle blinked and turned to Trittibar. She put one hand to her mouth as she took in the monstrosity of the fairy’s wardrobe. Enormous blue feathers sprang from his cap. His doublet was dyed the same shade of blue, though the inside of his slashed sleeves we
re lined in red silk. His trousers were the green of spring pines, trimmed with white ribbon. Worn leather sandals revealed blue lacquer on his toenails. A rainbow of glass beads braided into his white beard topped everything off.
“That’s awful,” Danielle said, laughing. “Even for you.”
Trittibar glanced down at himself. “The toenails are too much, aren’t they?”
“Can your people even see color?” Danielle asked.
“Better than yours, in most cases.” He brushed his beard, clinking the beads. “Why you humans insist on dressing so blandly I’ll never know.”
He spread his arms to embrace Danielle. The fairy had a pleasantly earthen smell. He backed away and switched to a more formal tone. “On behalf of my lord and lady, I thank you.”
“Thank you,” Danielle said. “You were the one to spread the rumors of our financial need, and to make sure word of Prince Jakob reached Rumpelstilzchen.”
Talia sniffed. “If your lord and lady truly wanted to help, why didn’t they hunt the bastard down themselves? How many years has he been running this con? How many more children would he have stolen if Beatrice and Danielle hadn’t planned this trap?”
“A trap that would have failed without our assistance,” Trittibar pointed out.
“What assistance?” asked Talia. “I didn’t see you there last night.”
“Rumpelstilzchen is not of Fairytown. We have no responsibility or authority to—”
“Stop this,” Beatrice said mildly. She stepped over to embrace Talia, cutting off the debate. “You know as well as I that Rumpelstilzchen might have sensed another fairy. His presence could have undone all of our efforts.”
Talia grunted but didn’t press the matter.
Though Beatrice tried to hide it, a gasp of pain escaped her lips as she lowered herself back to the bench. “Rumpelstilzchen and his partner are on their way to the docks. Lyskar is sending an escort for Hevanna.”
“What about Lang?” Danielle asked. “Did Snow ever learn his true name?”