by Jim C. Hines
What then? The wolves couldn’t get inside, though that wouldn’t stop Roudette. The north and east walls of the palace rose directly from the white cliffs, meaning Roudette would need to enter through the south or west.
Talia waited, mentally tracking the sound of the wolves. Atop the walls, guards rushed toward the south gates, where the wolves were loudest. Talia turned to face the western wall. “Danielle! The wolves are a distraction. Roudette’s coming from the west. We have to get you out of here now!”
“Not without Jakob!” Danielle slammed the storeroom door and turned around, her eyes wide. “The bakehouse. Derrick was making honey cakes this morning.”
“Go!” Talia followed at a distance, still watching the walls. That damned red cape should have been like a banner. Where was she?
“Jakob Theodore Whiteshore!” Danielle ran to the low brick building on the eastern wall and threw open the door. Inside, Talia could see the young prince sitting on the floor, his clothes caked in flour. Danielle scooped him into her arms. “What have I told you about running from Nicolette?”
“No to do it.” Jakob clung to his mother. “There are monsters and a scary lady.”
Monsters. Talia turned. “Jakob, where is the scary lady now?”
Jakob started to shake. He buried his face in Danielle’s shoulder, but pointed toward the chapel.
“Impossible,” said Snow. “I was just there. Roudette couldn’t have gotten past us.”
Jakob shook his head. Talia moved closer, straining to hear his words. “No Roudette,” Jakob mumbled. “Charlotte. She hurted Papa Isaac.”
“Damn her,” Talia said. “I should have killed the bitch when I had the chance.”
“Kill the bitch!” Jakob yelled.
“Thank you, Talia.” Danielle switched Jakob to her other side. “Snow, get back there and—”
“Too late.” Talia pointed a knife at the chapel, where Charlotte had emerged. Yellow fire burned along her skin. She stumbled as though drunk. Smoke swirled around her legs like a miniature dust devil. She was still wearing the iron bracelet Father Isaac had made. The bracelet glowed orange as though fresh from the forge. “I thought Charlotte couldn’t do witchcraft.”
“It’s not her.” Snow’s hands traced a spell. “It’s a fire sprite. A fairy creature.”
“I hate magic.” Talia glanced at Snow. “No offense. How the hell did that thing get through the walls?”
Snow’s eyes were wide. “Charlotte must have been carrying it.”
Danielle set Jakob on the ground and pushed him toward the bakehouse. “Get back inside and stay very quiet. I want you to hide in the flour chest until we come to get you. Do you understand?”
Jakob nodded. “Bye, Mama.”
“Go with him, Danielle,” said Talia. She threw a knife, but the flames knocked it aside.
Snow finished her spell. The flames flickered and shrank as though buffeted by a gale, dying enough for Talia to make out Charlotte’s expression. Her eyes were round with terror, her mouth wide.
“Help!” she mouthed, but only smoke emerged. The smoke curled into a black knot and streaked toward Snow.
A wave of Snow’s hand deflected the smoke skyward. Charlotte dropped to her knees, igniting a small fire where she touched the ground.
“Will killing her stop that thing?” Talia shouted, readying another knife.
“No!” Snow thrust her hands forward, sending another gust toward Charlotte. “She’s fighting that thing. Kill her and you free it to do whatever it pleases.”
“Talia!” Danielle kicked the bakehouse door shut and drew her sword. “Behind you!”
Talia spun, knife held high. The moment she spotted the streak of red racing across the courtyard, she threw. Roudette dodged, which slowed her enough for a pair of guards to close in.
They died before Talia could warn them. Roudette’s hammer struck the first guard in the throat. The second thrust his sword, which Roudette deflected with her cape before flinging him to the ground and slamming the hammer into the center of his back.
Danielle screamed, the sound cutting through the chaos like an ax. Throughout the courtyard, faces turned and guards raced to protect their princess. Danielle raised her glass blade in both hands and flashed a smile at Talia. “You were right. Screaming works.”
Talia ran at Roudette, only to leap back as Charlotte sent another bolt of fire through the air. The flames seared her face as they crackled toward Roudette, who ducked behind her cape. The fire sparked and spread but appeared unable to penetrate the cape. That didn’t stop Charlotte, who continued to pour fire at Roudette. Grass blackened and burned. The air rippled as Roudette continued forward.
“Where can I get one of those?” Talia muttered. She kept low, trying to watch Roudette and Charlotte both. Roudette seemed more interested in Talia than Charlotte, despite the flames crackling against her cape. Talia waited until Roudette was nearly upon her, then flung her knife straight up at Roudette’s face.
The blade tore Roudette’s cheek and ear. Talia jumped forward and grabbed Roudette’s wrist. She slammed a knee into Roudette’s forearm, trying to break her grip on her weapon.
Roudette swung her other arm, clubbing Talia in the back. It was like being struck with a tree. Talia dropped and rolled away, trying to stay clear of that hammer.
Snow was busy fighting Charlotte’s magic. Danielle readied her sword and stepped forward to guard Snow’s back. Her stance was good, but if Roudette reached her, she would rip Danielle apart as easily as she had the guards.
Sweeping her cape back with one hand, Roudette pulled a small red dart from her belt and threw. She turned back just in time to meet Talia’s charge. They crashed to the ground together, each grabbing the other’s wrist.
From the edge of her vision, Talia saw Charlotte drop to her knees. A spot of red protruded from her throat. “Snow! That dart will be poisoned!”
Roudette’s grip squeezed the knife from Talia’s hand. Her strength was far beyond human. Talia brought her forehead down to bloody Roudette’s nose, but Roudette simply tossed her aside.
Roudette rose slowly, glancing about to take in the guards who had spread out to surround them. Not even the Lady of the Red Hood could dodge a dozen cross-bow bolts fired at such close range.
“Charlotte!” Danielle tried to approach her stepsister, but the flames burst outward, pushing her back.
“You’re too late,” Roudette whispered. “Already she feels the poison burning through her veins, her heart hardening, her lungs collapsing. Her vision constricts, and her hope dies.”
Fire leaped from Charlotte’s arms, tearing through the grass to encircle them. The guards jumped back. Roudette smiled, her face bloody but triumphant.
Snow turned around, looking at the fire. “This is not good.”
The flames grew higher, obscuring everything beyond. Black smoke rose overhead, blocking out the sun. Talia could hear shouts from the other side of the fire, guards warning everyone to stand clear and calling for water, Prince Jakob yelling for his mother. They sounded far away, their words becoming fainter with every passing heartbeat.
The world lurched, and for the second time that day, Talia felt herself falling into the earth.
Snow might have admired the artistry of the fairy ring if not for the fact that she had no idea where it was taking them. Beside her, Danielle was doubled over, clutching her stomach with one hand. Talia and Roudette were still fighting, though far less effectively than before. Even Talia had a hard time keeping her balance while plummeting between worlds.
“Stay back from the edge,” Snow warned. She sensed powerful magic, the waves buffeting her as strongly as the heat of the fire, but no life. The sprite must have destroyed itself to create this ring. “Be still and let me work!”
Snow closed her eyes, using her mirrors to see the fire all around her. In theory, the ring should function the same as the one Trittibar had created earlier in the day. But Trittibar’s ring had brought
them to the outer gates of the palace, unable to pierce the wards of the walls. This one was strong enough to tear through those same wards as though they weren’t even there.
Magic was magic. This thing might be powerful, but at its heart, it obeyed the same rules. A fairy ring was nothing but a hole in reality. In this case, a particularly big and deep hole, but a hole nonetheless. Snow reached out, using the connection between her choker and her mirror back at the palace to slow their fall. The ring of flames wobbled like a spinning coin. Smoke began to fill the circle.
“What did you do?” Talia shouted.
“Tossed an anchor over the side.” Snow coughed and dropped low. “I don’t know where this thing is sending us, but I didn’t feel like going there.”
Roudette raised her war hammer. “You can’t!”
Talia crouched to strike, but Snow merely smiled and said, “Go ahead. Kill us all. I hope you enjoy spending the rest of your existence trapped in a hole to nowhere.”
“Can you take us back to the palace?” Danielle asked.
“We’re still traveling, just slower than before.” Snow gestured to the fire. “I’m not strong enough to pull us back. Even if I could, I don’t know what would happen if I brought us out too close to the original ring. It could create a loop, a portal that leads only to itself. It would be an interesting experiment, but I’d rather not try it with us inside.”
An unfelt breeze carried a new scent into the circle. A sweet, organic smell, like resin and sand and dried grasses.
“Then take us somewhere else in Lorindar,” Talia said. “Somewhere far enough from the palace—”
“Anywhere in Lorindar would still be too close.” Snow wiped her eyes and squinted at the flames. Was it her imagination, or had the ring contracted?
“So what do we do?” Danielle asked.
Snow waved at Roudette. “How about we start by taking away her hammer? She won’t fight you now. Not unless she wants me to drop her through the ring.”
Roudette gripped her hammer more tightly. “You’re lying. Your power isn’t—”
“I wonder where you’ll end up,” Snow said. “A hundred leagues above the ocean? The middle of the icy northlands? Or maybe you’ll just fall into the fairy realm and be trapped there.”
Roudette tossed her weapon onto the grass.
“Very good.” Snow waited for Talia to retrieve the hammer. “Now tell me where this thing was supposed to take us.”
“Arathea.” It was Talia who answered. “Charlotte was supposed to help you bring me to Queen Lakhim. Alive, if possible, so she could be the one to carry out my sentence.”
Snow pursed her lips. “This could be a problem.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Danielle.
“I’ve never been to Arathea! I don’t know what the silly place looks like.” She crawled toward Talia. The circle was definitely shrinking, and the smoke was growing worse. Snow grabbed Talia’s hand. “Congratulations, you’ve just become my apprentice.”
Talia tugged away. “What are you talking about?”
“A fairy ring is a hole in our world. At one end is the fairy ring we fell through. At the other side is a second ring. Unless you want to show up on Lakhim’s doorstep, I have to shift that second ring, but the farther I push, the more likely I am to destroy the whole thing.” Snow tapped her choker. “Stare into the mirrors and think of Arathea. Help me find a safe place to bring us out. Quickly, if you don’t mind?”
“You’re mad.”
“We can argue about that later,” Snow said.
Talia bit her lip and stared into Snow’s choker. Snow closed her eyes, looking through the mirrors. For a moment she saw only Talia, her face sweaty and full of uncertainty. Talia’s image vanished, and Snow saw instead a path of crushed red stone leading to a covered well, a small room with a crumpled sleeping mat and worn blanket, a copper pot full of steaming rice and meat.
With the memories came fragments of emotion. Fear, mixed with budding trust. Love and regret. Grief so sharp it brought tears to Snow’s vision.
“Got it,” Snow whispered. She grabbed a mirror from the side of her choker, keeping the memories in her own mind. The mirror slipped free in her hand. She reached out to take Roudette’s war hammer. The weapon was heavier than it looked. The head felt like iron—perfect. Gripping the head of the hammer, she tapped the point against the mirror in her other hand.
The glass shattered into powder. Snow dropped the hammer, cupping the powder in her hands. She blew a glittering stream of dust into the flames. The glass spread out, merging with the fire.
“Will this work?” Roudette whispered.
Snow shrugged and scooted back. The flames brightened, heat pushing them to the very center of the circle.
Between one breath and the next, the fire vanished. Smoke wafted away, revealing a field of grain.
Talia and Roudette moved at the same instant. Roudette’s fingers closed around the handle of her hammer. Before Roudette could rise, Talia’s heel slammed into her temple. Roudette fell back, groaning.
Talia struck twice more, keeping Roudette off-balance. Roudette raised her hammer, and Talia slammed a vicious punch into Roudette’s fingers, crushing them against the handle of her own weapon. The hammer dropped.
Danielle thrust her sword through the bottom of Roudette’s cape, pinning her in place long enough for Talia to land another punch to the side of Roudette’s head. Roudette reached up to grab Talia’s wrist, so Talia dropped a knee into her stomach.
That was enough. Roudette doubled over, and Talia pressed a knife to her throat. Danielle yanked her sword free, keeping it pointed at Roudette. The whole fight was over before Snow could even decide which spell to cast.
“Care to try that again?” Talia kicked the hammer away.
Roudette flexed her fingers. “Striking the hand that holds the weapon. That’s an unusual tactic.”
“First rule of sik h’adan,” said Talia. “Attack whatever target your enemy presents.”
Roudette laughed. “Risky. Miss by even a tiny distance, and you break your hand against my hammer.”
Talia’s breathing was fast but steady. “I don’t miss.”
Danielle turned around. “Where are we?”
“Arathea,” said Talia. “Outside the city of Jahrasima.”
Snow started to stand, and the world shifted as though she were still in the fairy ring. She sat back, fingers digging into the dry earth as she blinked to clear her vision.
Jahrasima sat upon an island in the middle of a perfectly circular lake. Snow remembered reading about this city. Jahrasima and its eight sister cities were gifts from fairykind, meant to atone for the curse of Sleeping Beauty. They said the water in the lake never dropped, even in the hottest part of the dry season.
Trees ringed the water, tall and broad-leafed. A stone path, somewhere between a dam and a bridge, offered a road into the city proper. Orange sunlight rippled on the dark water. Snow cupped her eyes and looked to the sky. Arathea was far enough west of Lorindar that the sun appeared to have jumped backward.
They had arrived a short distance beyond the lake’s edge, in a farmer’s field. Small gullies ran in parallel lines from the shore, diverting water to irrigate the crops.
“I thought we were supposed to arrive in the city itself,” Talia said.
Snow pointed to the water. “Do you know how much magic it takes to sustain that lake? Bringing us into that city would be like trying to throw a stick into a whirlwind. You’re lucky we got this close.”
Danielle still held her sword. Beads of sweat covered her forehead, and she looked queasy. Given how seasick Danielle got while sailing, Snow could imagine how the fairy ring must have affected her.
Despite her nausea, Danielle’s voice was firm as she faced Roudette. “What did you do to my stepsister?”
“I needed someone to carry the sprite.” Roudette didn’t try to move. She was far calmer than anyone in her position should have been. “To bring
Talia here alive, if possible. Charlotte was supposed to release the sprite at Stone Grove. I didn’t think she had it in her to fight.”
“But she did,” said Danielle. “So you killed her.”
“The Duchess killed her,” said Roudette. “Your stepsister was dead the moment the Duchess gave her that gown with the fire sprite hidden within it.”
“Snow could have saved her.”
“Maybe.” Snow rubbed her fingers against the base of her skull. “The gown carried the sprite’s essence. Trying to remove it could have freed the sprite.”
“Charlotte died well,” Roudette said. “She died fighting them.”
“Shut up.” Danielle pushed back her sleeve, exposing her bracelet. “Fairytown will be told exactly what the Duchess did today. If Trittibar earned exile for saving your lives, the Duchess has earned far worse.”
“What about Roudette?” Snow asked.
Danielle swallowed, her uncertainty clear to anyone who knew her. She glanced at Talia, who nodded and adjusted her grip on her knife. Danielle straightened. “Would you like a moment to pray and prepare yourself, Roudette?”
Roudette kept perfectly still. “Kill me, and the three of you will never see another sunrise.”
Talia dug the edge of her knife into Roudette’s throat. “Not even the Lady of the Red Hood can kill us after she’s dead.”
“You think it’s me you need to fear?” Roudette smiled. “I’ve lived with death as long as I can remember. It holds no terror for me anymore. But kill me, and before morning comes, you’ll wish I’d turned you over to Queen Lakhim.”
“I’m willing to take that chance,” said Talia.
“Do you believe that final fairy spared your life out of kindness, all those years ago?” Roudette asked.
Danielle lowered her sword slightly. “What are you saying?”
“She’s saying whatever it takes to stay alive,” Talia snapped.
“Poor Sleeping Beauty,” Roudette said, smiling up at Talia. “Cursed to die upon your sixteenth birthday, until that curse was altered by the final fairy’s wish. Instead of death, you would merely sleep. Only you weren’t the only one to fall into that enchanted sleep, were you?”