by Jim C. Hines
“Don’t be.” Talia escorted Danielle back to the northwest tower, making sure the extra guardsmen were at their posts. She grabbed the closest by the sleeve. “Princess Danielle is to go nowhere without armed escort, by order of Queen Beatrice.”
He gave a quick bow. Unlike Danielle, Talia had never been friends with most of the palace staff, but they knew who she was and that she served Queen Beatrice directly.
Danielle sighed. “Talia—”
“Remember, if you evade your bodyguard, he’s the one who gets disciplined for losing you.” Talia hurried away, heading for the royal quarters and the hidden stairway within the fireplace.
The room shared by the king and queen was empty. Talia jabbed a hidden stone in the fireplace to open the passage, then descended through the darkness until she reached the bottom of the stairs. There, oil lamps flickered beside an arched doorway. In the armory beyond, weapons of all shapes and sizes hung on whitewashed walls. Most were bladed, ranging from a tiny razor hidden within a gold ring to a sword as tall as Talia herself. There were also staves, clubs, and various missile weapons. Talia had bought or commissioned many of them herself.
A mosaic map of Lorindar covered the ceiling. Slate ships moved through lapis lazuli seas, each tile magically bound to an actual ship of Lorindar.
Talia studied the walls as carefully as a master chef selecting the ingredients for a banquet. She picked out several throwing knives, as well as two curved Arathean daggers long enough for hand-to-hand fighting. A single-edged short sword went onto the back of her belt. She also retrieved her zaraq whip, a spindle-shaped weapon with a thin line of troll hair connected to a sharp lead weight.
Rubbing the scar on her forearm, Talia moved to the far side of the wall where several sets of armor hung from wooden pegs. She grabbed a pair of black leather bracers and tried them on, making sure they wouldn’t prevent her from drawing the knives on her arms.
From there, she passed through the far doorway into the library and laboratory where Snow was working. Shelves lined the walls, bowing under the weight of collected scrolls, tomes, and other oddities. Old barnacle-encrusted jars filled one shelf. Another held a small, horned skull with a crack down the center. A troll-hair weaving sat in a discarded lump in the corner.
Snow didn’t appear to have noticed Talia’s presence. She sat on a stool in front of her famous mirror. Beside her was a scarred and heavily stained wooden table, currently bare save for Roudette’s box and an untouched mug of tea.
The magic mirror was as tall as Snow herself, liquid smooth and framed in platinum. At the moment, it showed only Snow’s reflection as she grimaced and leaned closer, examining her appearance. She touched the corner of her eye, stretching the skin as if to hide the faint wrinkles there.
“You’re beautiful,” said Talia. “Get over it.”
“I know.” Snow spoke without conceit or pride, but she didn’t pull away. “I doubt I’d be the fairest in the land anymore, though.”
“Depends on which land.” Anything more Talia might say would only make them both uncomfortable. Instead, she fell back on familiar banter. “Are you going to spend the whole day admiring yourself? We do have a killer to catch, remember?”
Snow brushed her fingers through her hair, picked at a few white strands, and grimaced.
“If it bothers you so much, there are dyes—”
“That’s cheating.” Snow tossed her hair back and flashed a carefree smile. “My mother used them all as she got older. It’s not the same.” She reached over to take Roudette’s note from the box.
Talia moved closer, hopping up to sit on the edge of the table where she would have a better view.
Snow touched the note to the glass. “Mirror, mirror, hear my plea. Show the killer Red to me.”
“Not bad,” said Talia. “The second part was a little forced, but it’s better than some of your other rhymes.”
“Hush.” Snow stuck out her tongue. Her reflection rippled and faded. Red smoke filled the glass, swirling like bloody fog and obscuring all but a shadow that might have been a woman.
“Didn’t this happen last time, too?” Talia asked.
“It’s her cape.” Snow picked up the cup of tea and sipped absently. Her face wrinkled. She whispered a quick spell, and steam began to rise from the mug. “It’s enchanted to deflect magic.”
“A useful quality for an assassin.”
Snow took another drink, still frowning at the mirror. The smoke thinned briefly, and for a moment Talia spotted hard-packed earth and pale tree roots. A blur of brown passed through the image.
“What was that?” Talia asked.
“I’m not sure.” Snow pressed her fingers to the glass, but the smoke had already obscured whatever it was. “Could have been her shoes, or it could have been a frightened chipmunk.”
“How close is she to Stone Grove?” Talia grimaced. “Trittibar’s fairy falcon is fast enough to make the trip in an hour. If we had to, we could—”
“She’s already there.” Snow stared at the mirror. “I can’t see her, but those roots were definitely from Stone Grove.”
“That’s impossible. Even at a full gallop, she couldn’t have killed Rumpelstilzchen and made it back so quickly.” Talia squinted at the red smoke. “Are you sure your magic is working right?”
Snow set down the mug and the note and turned to face Talia. “You’re welcome to take a turn if you think you can do better. My mother didn’t exactly leave a book of instructions for this thing. I could spend the rest of my life trying to unravel its secrets.”
“So if Roudette’s hidden, what about Charlotte?”
Snow plucked Charlotte’s toe from the box and held it to the mirror. “Mirror tell us what you know. Find the bitch without a toe.”
“I like that one,” said Talia.
The red smoke thinned enough to make out Danielle’s stepsister. Tree roots as thick as Talia’s leg snaked past Charlotte’s body. Her arms were bound at the wrists and elbows, and had been secured to the tree roots. Her legs were stretched out, tied at the ankles. A blood-soaked bandage circled her right foot.
“There’s your proof.” Snow pointed to the smoke that continued to dance and curl at the edge of the image. “Roudette’s with Charlotte, close enough that her cape is interfering with my mirror.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “She looks awful.”
“It’s a good look for her.” Charlotte’s pale face was filthy, save where tears had streaked the dirt. The brown curls of her hair were short and knotted. Old scars around her eyes marred her once-smooth beauty. She wore only a torn, filthy gown which hung loosely from her shoulders. Talia leaned closer. “What’s wrong with those trees?”
Snow massaged the back of her skull. “You really need to spend more time in the library. One of the earliest battles between humans and fairies was fought at Stone Grove. The dryads slaughtered more than a hundred men before our wizards managed to petrify the first of the trees. As the battle shifted in our favor, the dryads changed tactics, toppling their trees onto the attackers. They say the last dryad gathered up the seeds of her companions and disappeared. One day, when their new trees mature, they’ll return to seek vengeance against us.”
Talia shrugged. “Let me know when they’re all grown up, and I’ll deal with them too.”
Charlotte’s eyes were round with fear, her focus jumping constantly from one point to the next. She reminded Talia of a frightened animal.
“She’s been dragged from Fairytown, maimed, and tied up in a fairy graveyard,” Snow said. “I think it’s safe to say she’s not working with Roudette.”
Talia turned away in disgust. Charlotte was a cruel, selfish fool who had latched onto anyone she believed could bring her power. Her stepmother, her sister Stacia, the Duchess in Fairytown. If Roudette had asked, Charlotte almost certainly would have helped her of her own free will.
“How could Roudette make it back so quickly?” Talia asked. She toyed with the idea that Roudette
had hired a partner. Roudette could have sent someone else to dispatch Lang and Rumpelstilzchen. But the Lady of the Red Hood worked alone, and the butchery had been too quick, too thorough.
“Magic.” Snow guessed. “It helps to explain why nobody’s ever managed to capture her.”
Talia hopped from the table. “Get your things ready. I think I’m going to pack a few more knives.”
When Snow was a child, she used to stay up half the night, reading by light that she captured from the moon and stored in smooth stones from the river. These days her body demanded more rest. She had managed a quick nap before dinner, but it wasn’t enough. Within an hour of leaving the palace, she found herself nodding off, jerking awake when her body tilted too far in the saddle.
The tiny snores coming from her belt pouch only made her grumpier. In order to stay inconspicuous, Ambassador Trittibar had shrunk down to his natural size, no larger than a rag doll. Most of the time, the fairy ambassador used magic to make himself appear more or less human, presumably so nobody would step on him by mistake. Not to mention what could have happened to the poor fairy when Prince Jakob was teething.
The fog had begun to roll in from the east. Taking the coastal highway meant Snow could see the Arantine Ocean through gaps in the woods to her left. It was a nice change from her previous view of the trees and the backside of Talia’s horse.
Talia glanced over her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
Snow covered a yawn. Before she could speak, Talia pulled her horse to a halt, blocking the road.
“You’re falling asleep in the saddle,” Talia said.
“I just need to stretch.” She climbed down from the horse and tossed back the hood of her riding cloak, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. She dug through her saddlebag until she found a small parcel of willow bark. Normally she would have brewed a tea with the bark, but in a pinch, it could be used raw. She popped a strip into her mouth and grimaced at the bitter taste.
“You’re eating trees!”
“Only the bark,” Snow said. “To keep my back from tightening up. We don’t all have fairy magic coursing through our bodies to keep us graceful and limber, you know.”
“Your back,” Talia repeated. “Right.” Concern made her words unusually awkward. “You’ve used a lot of magic this week. Preparing the storeroom for Rumpelstilzchen, breaking the spells on the children, then tracking Charlotte and Roudette. Are you sure you’re ready for this? Your injury—”
“Is fine. Tymalous said so himself.” Snow threw the rest of the bark back into the saddlebag and yanked it shut. In truth, her head had been throbbing for most of the day. “If the king’s healer says my skull is healed, who are you to argue?”
“I’m the one who sees you every day, who sees the way your eyes tear up when you overexert yourself magically and notices the way you rub the back of your head when you think nobody’s watching. I’m the one who saw you crumpled on the steps after being slammed against a wall by a mermaid’s angry air spirits.”
Snow said nothing. Tymalous had pronounced her skull healed from the fracture she had received during that fight. He had also warned her that some damage yet lingered beneath the bone and that the effects of such injuries could last for years. All of which Snow already knew. Just as she knew she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her days as an invalid.
“You need me,” Snow said. “You need my magic to help sneak up on Roudette and counter whatever tricks she might have prepared.”
Talia slid from her horse. She lowered her eyes, her words momentarily losing their edge. “Not if it’s going to hurt you. Trittibar can be my magical backup.”
“Trittibar?” Snow laughed, nearly spitting out her bark. “You two would kill each other before you even reached Roudette.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I promise to rest once this is over. Will that satisfy you, Mother? I swear you’re as bad as Danielle.”
“Rest now. We can ride double.”
Snow stiffened. “I have some medicines in here that will wake me up. Give me a moment to find them, and I’ll be—”
“How many times have you lectured me about those medicines?” Talia demanded. “How each one takes its toll, and how most of the time the best thing for a body is rest, not drugs?”
“When did you start listening to me?” Snow muttered.
There was a time she would have joined Talia without hesitation. They had ridden together countless times on missions for Queen Bea. Snow had grown up without brothers or sisters, but she couldn’t imagine a sister being as close as she and Talia had become over the years. Two princesses, both exiled from their lands, both given a new home by Beatrice.
Sometimes she wondered if that wasn’t why Beatrice had sought them out, to unite each of them with the one person who might understand what the other had lost. Talia had become her closest friend, but things had changed last year when Snow learned Talia’s feelings for her went beyond friendship. Neither of them had spoken of it, and most days Snow did her best to pretend she didn’t know, but—
“Stop wasting time,” said Talia. “Even if you make it to Stone Grove without falling off your horse, the last thing I want is an exhausted sorceress flinging magic around while I’m trying to fight a killer.”
Snow stuck out her tongue, but Talia had a point. She finished buckling the saddlebag and surrendered to logic, walking over to join Talia.
Talia’s grip was strong and calloused. She hauled Snow up with ease, settling her in the front of the saddle. Mumbled protests erupted from Snow’s belt pouch. She settled the pouch into her lap with a quick apology to Trittibar for nearly sitting on him. She tucked her cloak around her body, then pulled her hair over one shoulder, tucking it into the cloak so it wouldn’t blow in Talia’s face.
“Relax,” said Talia. “I told you I wasn’t going to drop you.”
Snow leaned back. “How am I supposed to relax? It’s like trying to sleep on a weapons rack.”
Talia snorted, but she adjusted her belt, sliding several knives around past her hips and removing a pair of hooked throwing blades from the leather vest she wore over her shirt. “Better?”
Snow didn’t move as Talia reached around her to take the reins. Talia’s body was more tense than usual, her arms stiff against Snow’s sides. The saddle wasn’t built for two, and the curve of the leather pressed their bodies together.
“Try not to drool in your sleep.” Talia squeezed her knees, urging the horse forward. A cluck of her tongue brought Snow’s mount following behind.
“Aren’t you going to sing me a lullaby?” Snow asked, falling back on familiar teasing to hide her discomfort.
“Sorry. The kind of songs you like never sound as good sober.”
Snow settled her body, leaning her head on Talia’s shoulder. What was she worried about? Whatever feelings Talia might have for Snow, Talia was also the last person who would ever take advantage of someone in their sleep. Or awake, for that matter. Snow had known priests who flirted more than Talia.
“You smell like oil,” Snow whispered.
“From the knives. Go to sleep.”
Snow closed her eyes. “Wake me when it’s time to kill Red Riding Hood.”
CHAPTER 4
SNOW DIDN’T EXPECT TO GET MUCH SLEEP, but between the rhythm of the horse’s hooves and the warmth of Talia’s body, she drifted off almost immediately. Talia woke her twice during the night to switch mounts.
The third time she woke, they were coming up on a small farmhouse. Snow’s head lay in the crook of Talia’s neck, and Talia’s arm circled Snow’s waist, holding her in place. The skies were dark, but only for two or three hours longer, judging from the position of the moon.
Ambassador Trittibar had crawled from her pouch at some point during the night. He now sat comfortably between the horse’s ears, his arms twined in the mane for support.
Snow grimaced and spat. Bits of willow bark crusted her lips. She wiped her mouth on the corner of her cloak.
“I made you spit that stuff out last night,” Talia said. “I was afraid you’d choke.”
“Thank you.” She sat up and tried to rub the stiffness from her neck. Her head felt better, but she needed a real night’s sleep before she’d be fully recovered. She touched her choker, whispering a quick spell to try to locate Roudette.
“Anything?” asked Trittibar.
Snow shook her head. “It’s that cape of hers again. I was lucky to see anything at all yesterday. Who wears such a garish thing, anyway?”
Talia jumped down. “Eastpointe is just ahead, which means Stone Grove should be west of here. We’ll have a better chance of catching Roudette off guard if we go on foot. Try to see Charlotte while I talk to these people about watching the horses.”
Snow gripped the saddle with both hands and lowered herself to the ground. Spying on Charlotte would have to wait for more urgent matters. Leaving Trittibar to watch the horses, she disappeared into the woods. Much as she enjoyed these outings for the queen, there were times she preferred to stay at the castle where she could enjoy cooked meals, a real bed, and most importantly, a proper privy.
By the time Talia returned, Snow was digging through the saddlebags for something to eat. She grinned when she saw what Talia had packed. “You remembered!”
“Always,” Talia said.
Snow pulled out the small basket and yanked back the top. Her mouth watered at the smell of finely ground figs, saffron, and a touch of nadif spice, all fried in dough and glazed with caramel. She pulled off a few crumbs for Trittibar, then took an enormous bite for herself.
“Charlotte?” Talia asked.
“Sleeping, as far as I can tell,” Snow said around a mouthful of food. “Roudette’s cape shields Charlotte, but the toe gives me enough of a connection to pierce the smoke. That interference means they’re still together. Did you bring anything to drink?”
Talia was already transferring some of their belongings to her person. She grabbed a small leather bottle, took a drink then handed it to Snow.