by Jim C. Hines
Talia dropped her sword and grabbed his arm, spinning him about. “You’d let them eat us because of a thousand-year-old treaty?”
“He has no choice,” Snow said. “He’s a fairy, remember? They’re bound by the terms of the treaty. The only way he could break those terms—” She turned to face him. “Oh, Trittibar.”
“What is it?” Talia demanded.
Snow closed her eyes. “Malindar’s Treaty applies only to the fairies of Lorindar. It has no hold over exiles who have been cut off from the fairy hill.”
“Or those who choose to sever that connection of their own free will,” Trittibar added. “I was hoping you might have another option.”
“I’m sorry,” said Snow.
Whatever else Talia might think of Trittibar, once the fairy made a decision, he wasted no further time. Trittibar pressed the tip of his sword into the ground. He turned, and the blade gouged the stone, leaving behind a golden arc. He stepped past Charlotte, tracing the circle through roots and earth alike. “You might want to close your eyes. Humans find this . . . disconcerting.”
Talia watched the wolves moving closer. Through Snow’s failing spell, she saw Roudette staring back at her. Talia grabbed her sword, and then she was falling into the earth.
CHAPTER 5
ROUDETTE DRAGGED A BOOT THROUGH THE LINE of ash that marked the fairy’s ring. Fairy magic smelled like burned bones, turning her stomach as nothing else could. The ring was empty, her prey stolen away.
“Snow.” The Duchess had warned her. Danielle had come to Fairytown with two companions, Talia and the witch Snow White. Roudette had been so intent upon Talia, she had dismissed Snow as a possible threat.
Roudette smiled, remembering the last time she had faced Talia. Roudette was no stranger to narrow escapes, but Talia had come closer than anyone to actually killing the Lady of the Red Hood. She would have taken this job just for the chance to face Talia again.
Not even the power of her cape could postpone the effects of age, and today was the first time in years that Roudette had been uncertain how a battle would play out. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so alive. But Snow and her fairy had stolen Roudette’s victory.
She picked up the ruined remains of her bow. She had dropped it when she dodged Snow’s attack, and it had been burned by the magic of the fairy ring. The blackened wood splintered in her fist. She flung the pieces away.
Her wolves couldn’t pierce illusion, nor could they have known of the fairy wizard Snow carried in her pouch. The failure was Roudette’s alone, for trusting a tool provided by a fairy. “Duchess. Duchess. Duchess.”
Her wolves jumped back as the earth at Roudette’s feet crumbled, opening a round pit into darkness. A pale, round face framed in wisps of white hair looked up at her. A jade and platinum circlet sat on the Duchess’ brow.
“Roudette,” said the Duchess. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“You could be hearing from me again very soon indeed,” Roudette said. “You lied to me, lady. Talia was here, and Charlotte did nothing.”
One slender eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “Interesting. I take it from your impotent fury they escaped?”
“For the moment,” Roudette said. “You promised—”
“I have no bargain with you, human.” The Duchess smiled. “I agreed to help you as a favor. I did precisely as I said I would, loosing Charlotte into Fairytown for you, carrying the spell I was given.”
“A spell that failed.”
The Duchess shook her head. “Charlotte was never as skilled in the arts of magic as her dearly departed sister, but desperation can be a powerful teacher. Perhaps she’s finally begun to learn the use of power.”
“A pitiful wreck of a human, yet she can overcome your fairy magic.” Roudette realized she was smiling. She nudged a stone into the pit, watching as it passed through the Duchess’ image. “How delightful.”
“Hope.” The Duchess waved a hand, and the stone shot back upward.
Roudette dodged it with ease. “What do you mean?”
“Princess Danielle came to save her, did she not?” She smiled. “They rescued her from your grasp. Hope brings strength, even to one such as Charlotte. Strength enough to fight. At least for a while.”
Roudette froze. “How long?”
The Duchess took her time in responding, her enjoyment obvious. “For a skilled witch, a day. Perhaps two. In Charlotte’s case, I imagine her strength will fail before the sun sets.”
Roudette circled the pit. She never would have worked with fairies had there been any other way, but some prizes were worth the price. “If I lose Talia because of your failed magic, I will come for you next.”
The Duchess feigned a yawn. “Shouldn’t you be off chasing after your quarry, little wolfling?”
Roudette’s smile grew. Perhaps she would return to Fairytown regardless. She preferred not to kill without a contract, but there were exceptions to every rule.
Unfortunately, the Duchess was right. Roudette spun away, reversing her cape and allowing the magic of the wolfskin to flow through her flesh. She couldn’t track the fairy’s magic, but there was only one place they would have gone.
If hope had given Charlotte the strength to fight, then Roudette would have to remove that hope.
Moments later, she was bounding through the woods toward Whiteshore Palace.
Danielle stood with Armand in the courtyard beneath the shade of a cherry tree. A short distance away, Jakob was playing with some of the younger children they had rescued from Rumpelstilzchen. She counted fourteen, most of them gathered around the fountain. Three of the biggest children had climbed into the wide bowl of the fountain. They linked hands around the central pedestal, giggling madly as the water sprayed down on them.
Jakob stood clutching the edge of the fountain with both hands, jumping in place as fast as his stubby legs allowed and squealing with delight every time the water splashed his face. Even from here Danielle could see how badly her son wanted to join the others.
Nicolette and four other nursemaids were doing their best to keep the children under control. Nicolette was trying to herd the group inside for breakfast. A few of the nursemaids had other, more pressing concerns. One was having an earnest debate with a little boy about why he really should put his pants back on. Another lectured a red-haired girl on what was and was not a privy.
“Trittibar was right,” said Armand, squeezing Danielle’s hand. “The children seem to be doing well.”
“The younger ones, at least.” Danielle winced as Jakob lost his grip and fell, landing hard on his backside. He sat stunned for a moment, then climbed to his feet and hurried toward Danielle and Armand. His movement was clumsy, as much a waddle as a run.
“Mama!”
Danielle smiled and scooped him up. Water dripped from his hair and shirt.
“They went in fountain.” Jakob’s round face was serious. “I stayed on grass.”
“Yes, you did.” Danielle rubbed a hand through his hair.
“Mama, where Aunt Tala?” Jakob asked.
Danielle hugged him, heedless of the water dampening her own clothes. “She’ll be back soon. Go play.” She waited until he was away before turning to Armand. “They should have reached Stone Grove by now.”
“If anyone can handle Roudette, it’s Snow White and Sleeping Beauty.”
Danielle stared. “What did you say?”
Armand looked thoroughly pleased with himself. “You thought I’d never figure it out?”
There was no point in denying it. “When did you know?”
“I guessed the truth about Snow shortly after the mermaid incident.” He lifted Danielle’s hand and pushed back her sleeve, revealing a copper bracelet with a small mirror in the center. “She gave me a magic mirror too, remember? Magic mirror, white skin, not to mention she goes by the name ‘Snow.’ ”
“Most people assume it’s a nickname, because she looks like Snow White.” Dani
elle glanced at the mirror, willing it to show her Snow and Talia, but nothing happened. “What about Talia?”
“I heard her singing to Jakob last month.” He chuckled. “I’ve heard many gifted singers in my time, both human and fairy. Talia is something in between. Her voice, that was one of the gifts the fairies gave her? Like her grace? I’ve long suspected a magical element to her skill in battle. Hearing her song gave me the final piece I needed.”
“And now that you know the truth?” Danielle asked.
“If they wished their identities known, they wouldn’t be working as servants to my mother.” He shrugged. “I’ve heard the stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Who hasn’t? The fact that they’re here in Lorindar, alone, tells me those stories didn’t have as happy an ending as the bards would have us believe.”
“They’re not alone,” Danielle said firmly.
“You know what I mean.” He squeezed her hand. “You could have told me.”
“It wasn’t my secret to share.”
“I know.” He winced as one of the children let out a particularly piercing scream. He started to say more, and then his expression hardened.
Danielle followed his gaze to see guards racing toward the main gate. “Nicolette, get the children inside.”
“You too.” Armand took Danielle’s arm.
One of the guards turned back, shouting for Tymalous. Danielle’s heart pounded, and she pulled free of Armand’s grip. “If this were an attack, they’d be calling for reinforcements, not the king’s healer.”
By now most of the palace staff had stopped to see what was happening. Father Isaac emerged from the chapel, faded black robe flapping behind him as he ran. Tymalous moved more slowly as he followed.
Snow was the first through the gate, half- carrying the exhausted and battered Trittibar. His arm was a bloody mess, the sleeve and skin shredded. Talia followed, pushing Charlotte ahead of her.
“Roudette got away.” Danielle could see it in Talia’s expression. Nothing enraged Talia more than her own failure, and whatever had happened, she blamed herself.
Danielle put a hand on Armand’s shoulder. His entire body was tense as he watched Talia hand Charlotte over to the guards. The last time he had seen Charlotte, she and Stacia had used magic to enslave him.
Snow and Trittibar sat down right there in the grass. They had obviously come straight from battle, without taking time even to bandage Trittibar’s wounds. Tymalous and Isaac shooed Snow away as they inspected the damage to Trittibar’s arm.
Snow swayed and might have fallen if Talia hadn’t caught her. Danielle was already running toward them, Armand close behind.
“What happened?” Danielle asked. “Are you both all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” said Snow. “It’s Trittibar’s fault, whisking us away so suddenly. He broke my wind spell, and the backlash was worse than I expected.” She gave Talia a wan smile. “It’s embarrassing, really. Breaking wind in the middle of a fight.”
“That’s terrible.” Talia punched her lightly on the shoulder. “Roudette—”
“I know,” said Danielle. “She escaped. Which means she’ll be coming after me again.”
“Not you.” Talia glanced over her shoulder, as if she expected to see Roudette charging through the gate behind her. “Me.”
The throne room was Danielle’s least favorite part of Whiteshore Palace. Standing here surrounded by such wealth and opulence still made her feel like an imposter.
Marble pillars framed a circular dais. Twin thrones sat at the top, each one carved of dark-stained oak and inlaid with gold and ivory. The back of the king’s throne was shaped to resemble a griffon. The queen’s was carved with a swan motif, the wings folded forward as though to embrace Beatrice.
From Danielle’s place beside the queen, she could make out every line in the swan’s feathers, each one carved with inhumanly fine detail. The queen sat stiffly, her back not quite touching the back of the chair. Beside her, King Theodore was whispering something to Chancellor Crombie, a sour old man with a wrinkled face and permanently ink-stained fingers. Crombie sat to the right of the dais, parchment and ink laid out on a wooden desk before him.
Armored guards stood to either side of the double doors at the far end of the throne room, their mail polished until it shone almost as brightly as Snow’s mirrors. Father Isaac waited to the left of the dais, silver crucifix clutched in both hands, his head bowed in magical prayer.
The room was otherwise abandoned. Imposing as the throne room could be, the emptiness made it worse. There would be no audience for this hearing. Only Chancellor Crombie was in attendance to document Charlotte’s sentencing.
Danielle straightened her belt, adjusting her sword. “Have we heard anything about Ambassador Trittibar?” she whispered.
“Tymalous will take care of him,” Beatrice assured her.
“I meant from Fairytown,” Danielle said. “Will they really exile him for saving Snow and Talia?”
“He violated the treaty.” Beatrice made no effort to hide her sadness. “Fairies are not known for ignoring the rules. Twisting them to meet their needs, yes. Something like this . . . no matter the circumstances, I’m afraid they’ve no choice.”
Theodore turned to Danielle. “Ambassador or no, Trittibar will always be welcome in this palace.”
“None of this is your fault,” Beatrice assured her.
“No?” Danielle glanced at the doors. “I’m the one who insisted we save Charlotte.”
“You made the right decision,” said Beatrice. “This was our best chance to stop Roudette.” The guards straightened, and Beatrice’s expression grew stern. “They’re here.”
Talia and Snow entered together, Charlotte hobbling between them. Two more guards followed close behind.
Charlotte’s wrists were shackled. Iron chain clinked loudly as she brushed her gown and picked at her hair, a halfhearted attempt at primping. She kept her head low, refusing to look at anyone.
Her appearance filled Danielle with sadness. Charlotte was a withered shadow of the woman she had once been. She was skinny enough to pass for a fairy, and unlike Talia and Snow, she had been given no time to prepare herself for court. Grime covered her face, almost hiding the scars by her eyes. The bandage on her foot was black with dirt and blood. Her gown was in tatters. An iron bracelet circled her wrist.
“She wasn’t wearing that bracelet when she first arrived,” Danielle whispered.
“It was made by Father Isaac to prevent her from trying to use magic.” Beatrice took Danielle’s hand. “Whatever happens, remember that your stepsister chose her own path. Her fate is her responsibility, not yours.”
King Theodore waited for Charlotte to reach the base of the dais. Charlotte knelt, as did her escort. Theodore beckoned them to rise. “How is Trittibar?”
“Resting,” said Snow. “The wolf’s teeth tore deep into the arm. He shouldn’t lose the limb, but it may never regain its full strength.”
Beatrice leaned forward. “What of your own injuries?”
“I’m fine.” Snow was paler than usual, even the color in her lips faded to a light pink. Judging from Beatrice’s frown, she could see through Snow’s facade as easily as Danielle did.
“Charlotte Moors.” King Theodore’s voice filled the throne room.
Charlotte cringed. “Your Majesty.”
She appeared . . . broken. Submissive, even. Whether from her years trapped in Fairytown or the knowledge that she was alone, Danielle couldn’t guess.
Theodore stood. “Two years ago, you conspired with your stepsister Stacia to kidnap Prince Armand of Lorindar. My son. You then attempted to murder Princess Whiteshore. Later, you tried again to kill the princess and her unborn child both.”
Charlotte began to cry, but said nothing.
“While in Fairytown, Princess Whiteshore spared your life, showing you mercy.” The king’s voice was stone, his face as hard as Danielle had ever seen. “She overstepped her bounds.�
�
Danielle bit back a protest. Even Snow and Talia looked surprised at his pronouncement.
“You committed treason against Lorindar,” Theodore said. “You entered my home, attacked my family, and stole my son. Do you deny these acts?”
“No.” Her voice was barely audible.
“In other circumstances, you would be put to death. After consideration, we have decided to give you one chance to save yourself, to earn exile rather than the gallows.” He glanced at Beatrice, making Danielle suspect the queen had been influential in that choice.
Charlotte looked up, hope and wariness on her face. “Anything, Your Majesty.”
Beatrice leaned forward. “Help us find Roudette. Tell us what happened to you and what role you were to play in her attempt to kill Talia.”
Charlotte sagged. “After Cinder—After Danielle and her friends freed Armand, I was left in the Duchess’ service. She kept me on as a slave. I was nothing, lower even than her goblins, given scraps for food, forced to sleep in—”
“In other words, you were treated as you once treated your stepsister,” Beatrice said.
“Yes.” Charlotte glanced at Danielle, then looked away, but not before Danielle saw something she had never imagined from her stepsister: shame.
“Go on.”
“A short time ago, the Duchess grew bored with me. She cast me out. One of her creatures led me as far as the queen’s labyrinth in exchange for—” Charlotte shook her head. “Please don’t make me tell you.”
Danielle imagined the greed of the fairies from her last journey to Fairytown, demanding her unborn child and worse. What had they taken from Charlotte? “We only care about Roudette.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte’s face twisted as though the words burned her mouth. “The little beast said if I could make my way through the labyrinth before sunrise, I would reach the hedge that borders Fairytown and be able to escape.”
“You survived the fairy queen’s labyrinth?” Snow asked.
Charlotte shook her head. “I ran until my legs lost their strength. Turns doubled back on themselves. Pathways ended without warning. I collapsed, unable to move another step, or so I thought. Then I heard the howling of the queen’s wolves. I dragged myself onward, eventually finding a passage that opened onto the chasm. Not the escape I had hoped for, but a quick leap to my death was better than facing the wolves. I tried to make myself jump, but in the end my fear was too great. I couldn’t do it. That was when Roudette found me.