A column of fire roared from my clenched fingers, a rush of air moving with it, and slammed into the stone. The rock exploded from the pressure, spraying shards of stone in all directions. We all flinched, raising our arms to protect our faces.
When the fire had died out and the rock fragments had all hit the ground, I slowly lowered my arms.
“Did I mention I’m still working on it?”
“Wow.” Giselle’s eyes glowed. “That. Was. Amazing.”
She would have happily kept me out there doing tricks for hours, but after a glance at the sky—and another one at his sister—Oliver declared it time to return to the palace. Giselle looked disappointed but didn’t protest—so not entirely like me at her age, after all.
Together we trekked back in near silence. What had happened in that meadow wasn’t something any of us felt like discussing where someone else might overhear us. Even if we were surrounded by people who seemed unmoved by anything.
We had made it most of the way back when we passed a particularly deep drift of snow pushed between two building fronts. I shivered at the sight, but a moment’s reflection made me realize I didn’t actually feel cold. Instead a pleasant warmth had settled inside me, too low to be particularly noticeable until I actively thought about it.
So my experiment with the running had been a success. I had managed to kindle an internal fire that could last through distractions. But when I remembered how the memory had ended, I frowned. It made me feel both safer and warmer—a not insignificant side-effect—to have the heat always burning. But I would have to be more careful of unexpected flare ups. I didn’t want to end up blasting a hole through the palace wall or setting someone on fire just because I was startled.
Days passed and became weeks. At first the inactivity suited me fine. I returned many more times to the meadow with Oliver to further refine my skills. Giselle always accompanied us, not bothering to ask permission, just appearing at some point during our walk through the city. Oliver tried to send her back the first time, but she merely shrugged and silently continued toward the meadow, drawing ahead of us.
Eventually he had sighed, and we had accepted her presence. She often turned up whenever we were together after that, and I grew used to it. I even told myself it was a good thing that I was rarely alone with Oliver now. I didn’t want to lose control again.
Oliver had done his best to launch an investigation into the cave in, but none of us were surprised to discover that no one remembered seeing or hearing anything suspicious. And since we were all in agreement that it would be best not to advertise my new powers, he couldn’t even be too specific with anyone about exactly what had happened. Not when we had no explanation for our escape.
But it wasn’t worth letting word about my gift spread. With an unknown enemy wreaking havoc on the kingdom, it felt good to have one advantage they knew nothing about.
As weeks passed, however, the three of us grew more and more concerned. Instead of warming up as we approached closer to summer, the air was growing colder and the snowfalls more frequent. Snowdrifts began to appear in the meadow, and eventually the day came when we couldn’t make it across the path to reach it at all.
Any idea that this unseasonal change might cause concern to the locals had long since faded. The three of us drew closer together—an island in the midst of a sea of cold and passive faces. Even regular conversation seemed an effort for most of them now. And attempts to express our concern were met only with blank expressions and shrugs.
While Oliver did his best to keep the administration of the kingdom functioning in the face of his parents’ increasing disinterest, Giselle and I had taken to roaming the palace, searching for something—anything—that might help us. I preferred lobbing fireballs to spending hours on musty old record books, but we spent part of every day in the library. We could find no account of any previous encroachment of winter to rival this one, however.
We also poked through every bit of the palace, unwilling to overlook anything that might help us understand what was happening to Eldon. I often found myself back in the room of treasures—as I had mentally dubbed it—wishing one of the objects displayed there still held power.
Sometimes I also found myself lingering in front of the old portrait in the corridor, wondering what object was missing from beside it. Giselle told me that display had always stood empty, so I knew it was a foolish thought. But still I found myself there.
So when we ended up in the long portrait gallery one afternoon, I easily recognized the same woman in another painting displayed among the many past royals. Once again she wore a similar blue velvet to the material that decorated the palace, but she looked older in this portrait. Still determined but a little more careworn.
Giselle noticed my interest and came to stand beside me.
“It’s the same woman,” I said. “Who was she, do you know?”
“She’s one of the previous queens.” Giselle paused. “My great-great-grandmother? Or maybe it’s just one great. I get confused about the order of them all.”
“Why is her portrait out in the corridor? Was she special?”
Giselle scrunched up her face, thinking. “Depends what you consider special, I suppose. She lived back before our kingdoms turned away from the High King and the old laws. Before the godmothers turned away from us in turn. She had a godmother, I believe, although she was only a servant originally. And she and the crown prince fell in love and were married. It was all terribly romantic, I suppose.” Giselle didn’t seem particularly impressed.
“She sounds like Lily and Sophie’s mother. She was a servant—sort of—before she married the prince.”
“Maybe it’s because she was a servant that she found the palace cold and unpleasant,” said Giselle. “At least, that’s what I remember mother telling me. She apparently redecorated the whole thing.” She gave a wry smile. “I guess when you’re responsible for decoration you get to put your portrait wherever you want.”
“I wonder what was supposed to stand beside it.”
Giselle shrugged. “You should ask Oliver, maybe he knows. As crown prince he spent much more time than Emmeline and me learning all about the family history and the previous kings and queens.”
From her scrunched nose, I deduced that she didn’t envy him the role. I let the conversation drop, although my curiosity about the servant-girl-turned-queen had only increased.
Moving down the line of portraits, I stopped in front of a particularly grand and imposing one. It portrayed a tall king, standing alone, his hand upon the hilt of his sword and his brow stern as he gazed into the distance.
“Another one of your ancestors, I suppose. He looks…” I trailed off as I tried to think of a non-offensive description.
“Conceited?” Giselle appeared beside me. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended. I’ve never liked the look of him myself.”
From his stance and expression it surprised me somewhat that he hadn’t had himself painted on a victorious battlefield or on his throne, at least. But as my eyes roamed over the background of the picture, they landed on an unusual object.
Excitement filled me, warmth swirling around my insides which I quickly suppressed. The last thing I wanted was fire erupting in this room of all places.
“Giselle, what’s that? Behind him?”
Mounted on the wall behind the figure, the painter had included a large mirror. The elaborate frame appeared to be covered in gilt, and it seemed a strange thing to include in a portrait. Unless…
Giselle sighed. “That’s the Eldonian royal mirror.”
I nodded. “You told me it was lost. Just before I freed you. What did you mean by lost? How do you lose a mirror?” I couldn’t quite keep the excitement from my voice.
“Well, I suppose lost is a bit of a euphemism.” She looked pained. “The truth is that it was stolen.”
“Stolen?” Some of my eagerness drained away, replaced with confusion. “How does something like that get stolen o
ut of a palace?”
She just shrugged. “It was before my time. All I know is that someone managed to take it. It was gone before I ever got the chance to see it.” She sounded genuinely sad, and I remembered the echo of the emotion pushing through the fog of her enchantment when we had talked about it previously.
I tried not to sound impatient or critical when I asked, “I assume your family has tried to recover it?”
“Of course.” She sounded a little sharp despite my efforts. “Many times, in fact. The thief was tracked up the mountain. Only then a blizzard hit. The tracks were lost after that.” She sighed. “No one can survive up the mountains in winter. The thief froze to death long ago and the mirror is stashed in whatever hidey hole or cave he found before he died. My grandfather announced a reward for anyone who could find it, and every summer at least one expedition goes looking. But the mountains are vast, and the thief could have fled to any corner of them before he succumbed.” She sighed again. “Such a waste.”
I groaned, the remaining elation seeping out of me. A waste indeed. Because if we could have found the lost mirror, we could have used it to find the source of the enchantment. Find it and stop it.
“It would be a useful thing to have now,” Giselle whispered, her mind obviously in the same place as mine.
“Maybe we could—”
“In this weather? That would be crazy.” Giselle didn’t even let me finish the thought.
Reluctantly I conceded the point, and we moved out of the room. But I couldn’t get the thought of the royal mirror from my mind. It was out there somewhere, and if only we had it, we could finally make some progress on defeating this curse.
Chapter 13
When I raised the question of the mirror later with Oliver, he was no more hopeful than Giselle.
“If none of the expeditions could find it in the summer, we would have no chance at all of finding it now.”
The pain on his face made me back away from the conversation. I could see how frustrated and desperate he was becoming, and the last thing I wanted to do was remind him of all the ways we weren’t making any progress. But still, the thought of the mirror haunted me.
Oliver wasn’t the only one becoming more desperate as the days passed. The three of us wound tighter and tighter, in direct opposition to the rest of the palace’s inhabitants. I had thought Emmeline, at least, might show some response to Giselle abandoning her to spend her time with us, but she seemed completely unaffected.
“It’s horrible,” burst out Giselle one day from where she lay sprawled across one of the sofas in the sitting room of my suite. “It’s like a stranger is wearing Emmeline’s face.”
Oliver, who stood by the fire, one leg propped against the grate and his arm resting along the mantel, didn’t look up, but I saw his expression tighten. I could feel his frustration at his impotence and had to restrain the instinct to go over and place a comforting hand on his arm. Despite my gift, I hadn’t managed to free anyone else. Why would he want comfort from me?
“I’m sorry,” I said, focusing instead on Giselle. “I’ve tried.”
And I had. As I gained more control of my powers, I had tried several more times to wake Emmeline without success.
Giselle sighed. “It’s not your fault. Without you, Oliver and I would be just as bad.”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “I just wish I knew why it worked then and not now.”
Oliver did look up this time. “I’ve been thinking about that. Whatever enchantment holds them in thrall is obviously getting stronger. I think you got to us just in time.” He looked back down at the fire. “And you didn’t have as much control back then. I think it only worked instinctively. And probably only on people…”
He trailed away, but when he glanced up, both Giselle and I were watching him curiously, so he was forced to continue.
“I was just thinking how Giselle is much more like you in personality than Emmeline. Perhaps you sensed that somehow…some connection. Some small lingering part of her true self that called to you, and you instinctively responded.”
It seemed as good a theory as any, but I noticed he said nothing of himself. Can you deny it, though? asked a small voice inside me. That you’ve felt a connection to this prince ever since you got a glimpse of his true self?
I shook the thought aside. I had more important things to worry about than fanciful connections.
“But what can we do then? If it’s too late for me to reach any of them…”
Giselle sat up. “Don’t say that! It’s not too late.”
Oliver glanced between us. “We can only hope it’s not. At this point, I suspect we’ll need to defeat it at the source.”
I stood up and began to pace the room. “Yes, but what is the source? None of us have any idea, remember?”
He ran an angry hand through his hair and shot me a look that made me instantly regret my words. Of course he remembered. I doubt he thought of much else. And it was eating him up inside. He thought that as heir he should know his own kingdom better.
I reached the window and spun around to pace back again. They had both given up on the mirror as hopeless, but I’d been thinking about it. And it’s not like we had any other ideas.
“What if the thief didn’t die up the mountain?”
“The thief?” Oliver raised an eyebrow, and Giselle’s face looked no less confused. I rushed to explain myself.
“The thief who stole the mirror. What if he evaded his pursuers and somehow came back down the mountain somewhere else? It would explain why no one could ever find it.”
Giselle looked skeptical. “The size of the mountain and the weather would also explain it.”
“Right. But what if it wasn’t up the mountain? What if we could find it?”
Oliver’s mouth twisted, but he didn’t immediately protest. No doubt he was desperate enough to consider any option at this point, however crazy.
“Perhaps…perhaps we could go on a royal tour,” I said.
The other two stared at me, so I kept going. “My father sent my oldest brother on a royal tour of the kingdom when I was fifteen. There were rumors of trouble at the time. We visited all the different regions and, sure enough, we chased the trouble out into the open. Maybe we could announce we’re going on a tour, and go searching for the mirror. If we could find it…”
“We could finally find out what’s going on.” Oliver sounded half-hopeful, half-despairing.
But Giselle was already shaking her head. “It might have worked a year ago, but I can’t imagine trying to rouse anyone at the palace to be involved or even to help organize such a thing. Not now. They’re barely maintaining even our most simple routine.”
Watching her face, I realized the depth of her fear. She worried that one day they would all stop caring enough to do anything at all. That they would just sit down and die. And I couldn’t say I blamed her for her concern.
Oliver groaned. “Then we go ourselves. Just the three of us.” But his eyes flickered to Giselle as he said it, and I knew he would leave her home if he possibly could.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said quickly. “I am not staying here on my own.”
He looked at me instead, but I shook my head. “Don’t look to me for support. There’s no way I’d want to stay here on my own. And I remember what it was like to be fifteen too.”
Giselle threw me a grateful look and Oliver a frustrated one. I just shrugged. “Well, I do. I’m not that old, you know.”
Oliver’s gaze caught on my face. “No. No, indeed…”
Giselle cleared her throat loudly, and he looked away quickly, his face flushed from his proximity to the fire. Silence fell between us, eventually broken by Oliver.
“I don’t like it. It’s a desperate plan, and in all likelihood we’d be chasing a fool’s errand. But we can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“Well, that’s decided then,” said Giselle, although she hadn’t actually given her opinion on the
plan either way. She climbed off the sofa. “I’ll start collecting supplies.”
She disappeared from the room, and Oliver went to follow her. “I’ll pick us mounts. The hardiest I can find since it looks like we should expect conditions more like winter than late spring.”
I stood as well, although I wasn’t sure what help I could be beyond packing my own bags. Oliver paused as he crossed in front of me, and I waited for him to suggest what I might do, but he said nothing.
Instead he raised a hand and laid it gently against my cheek. I stilled, only the slightest tremble running through me as the ever-present warmth in my chest stirred and grew.
“I’m being selfish.” His words were a bare whisper. “Too selfish. It’s unforgivable.”
“What do you mean?” My voice was hardly louder than his.
“There is no reason for you to face this danger with us. Leave now, while there’s still time.”
“No.” I would have shaken my head except that his hand still burned against my cheek. “I was sent here remember. By the godmothers. To free you all.”
“But perhaps it’s too late for Eldon.” The weight in his eyes made me want to cry. And his next words were so quiet I could barely catch them. “You are too alive, Celine. Too full of fire. I couldn’t bear it if you were snuffed out.”
A bone deep shiver shook me as he voiced my own deepest fears. At my movement, he dropped his fingers as if burned. But I leaned forward and placed my hand against his chest—just where I had placed it when I released him from the enchantment.
“No,” I said, more forcefully this time. “I’m not leaving you. And nobody is snuffing me out. Or you either. I will keep us both alight for as long as I need to.”
A deep sigh ran through him. “It’s wrong of me to feel so relieved—and yet…I do.” He swayed toward me, and I read something in his eyes that both exhilarated and frightened me. I never ran from a challenge, and yet I could not ask what his eyes begged me to ask. Because everything was up to me. I was the keeper of the fire, and what he didn’t know was that I had to work far harder to stop it burning us both alive than I did at keeping us from freezing.
A Crown of Snow and Ice: A Retelling of The Snow Queen (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 3) Page 10