Jim Hines - The Snow Queen's shadow

Danielle cut Talia off. “Gerta, if you know what happened to my husband, can you reverse it?”

Gerta approached the prince. Danielle signaled with one hand for Talia to stay close, but Gerta merely studied Armand.

“Keep away from me, you filthy witch,” snapped Armand.

Danielle tightened. This wasn’t her husband. He would never speak so to anyone.

Yet even as she defended him to herself, she wondered. Did some part of Armand believe those words? Was this cruelty merely an aspect of himself he kept hidden… an aspect that reminded her so much of her own stepmother?

“Look at his hand.” Gerta pointed to a pair of dark bruises on the back of Armand’s hand. “You’ll find others where the sliver cut him from the inside as it moved through his body.”

“Can it be removed?” asked Danielle.

Gerta chewed her lower lip as she stared at Armand. She moved away from him, out of earshot, and gestured for the others to follow. “It would be dangerous. The splinter isn’t the problem. It’s what that splinter carries.”

“Tell me.”

“Have you never wondered where the mirror’s power came from?” Gerta looked from one face to the next. “All magic has a cost. Minor spells like your priest’s incense take most of their strength from the ingredients of the potion. He can prepare a new batch and feel no more fatigued than a man who spends an afternoon chopping firewood. But an artifact like our mother’s mirror, one with the ability to show anything its master commands? Not even Rose Curtana was powerful enough to create such a thing on her own.”

“So where did it come from?” asked Danielle.

“I believe our mother enslaved something within the mirror. Forced it to serve her.”

Something which had broken free when the mirror shattered. “Snow never spoke of this,” said Danielle. “You told us Snow created you, formed you from her own thoughts and memories-”

“She never spoke of it,” Gerta agreed, “but she used to lie awake at night, wondering about the price of Mother’s magic. As she grew, she learned not to question such things. Much of our mother’s magic was best left to the shadows. Snow was a child. Had she allowed herself to dwell on the torments our mother inflicted, the rituals she wove, it would have consumed her. So Snow locked those fears away, burying them so deep they couldn’t reach her even in dreams.”

No wonder Snow had imagined a companion for herself. For a child to face such nightmares alone… the thought made Danielle wish she could somehow go back and whisk Snow away when she was first born. “And then yesterday, the mirror broke.”

“Releasing what?” Isaac asked.

“We once encountered a mermaid who trapped human souls and used them as slaves,” said Danielle. “Could the mirror have done something similar?”

“No human soul would be powerful enough.” Gerta shook her head. “If any were so strong, my mother never would have been able to enslave them.”

“A demon.” It was Father Isaac who spoke. “No minor fiend, but a true denizen of Hell.”

“Snow didn’t know,” Gerta said quickly. “Even had she tried to discover the truth, it was impossible to be certain, short of shattering the mirror.” She gestured toward Armand. “She never intended any of this.”

Talia whispered a curse in Arathean. “Snow gathered up every last speck of glass. If each splinter is a reflection of the demon’s power, she could infect half of Lorindar.”

Danielle was watching Father Isaac. “Is Gerta telling the truth?”

“I believe so,” said Isaac. “Strange… in some respects, she appears a construct, yet her flesh is human.”

Gerta reached out and tugged the curls of his beard, earning a yelp. “Is that real enough for you, Father?”

“From the moment Snow emerged from her library, she carried a demon within her,” said Talia. “Why did nobody detect it? What good are these damned wards and spells if-?”

“Snow created many of those wards,” Danielle pointed out. “She avoided Father Isaac, and Tymalous tells me she never came to see him, either.” She looked to Gerta. “Can you use the glass in Armand’s blood to find Snow?”

“I already asked,” said Talia.

Gerta turned away. “Snow always imagined me as the weaker sister. Someone she could impress with her own spells. I am as she made me. If I use magic to touch the splinter, it’s likely the demon could take me as well.”

Despair swelled in Danielle’s chest. She would continue the search until every corner of the palace had been checked, but she knew deep down it was futile. Snow was gone, and she had taken Jakob with her.

Laughter pulled her attention to her husband. There was nothing pleasant to the sound, only mockery, like a bullying child. “You’ve lost them both. How long before you accept your failure, Cinderwench?”

To her surprise, Armand’s use of her old nickname helped her regain control. This sort of hate was familiar, easier to brush aside. She strode toward him. “The man I love would never call me by that name.”

“The man you love?” He laughed again. “They say love is blind, but in truth love is blinding. You’ve no more love for me than I had for you. You looked upon me and saw salvation. I was nothing but a way to escape your stepmother and stepsisters.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Just as I looked upon you and saw… simplicity. A child with no hidden schemes, a girl trained to obedience. A bride fit for a prince. Love is the lie we feed ourselves when we’re too weak to accept the truth. You warmed my bed and kept to your place.”

Gerta stared. “You’re married to him?”

“Yes.”

“He’s an ass.”

Trittibar coughed and covered his mouth.

Danielle clasped Gerta’s shoulders. “You claim Snow created you.”

“That’s right.”

“When Armand was stolen from me, Snow used my unborn son to find him. As Jakob grew into his own person, that connection faded. But you were ripped from Snow’s mind less than a day ago. Can you use that bond to find her?”

Gerta shook her head. “Not without exposing myself to her power.”

“Damn,” Danielle whispered. That left but one other option, one she had prayed she could avoid. “Thank you for your help. Please stay with Trittibar and Father Isaac. There has to be a way to remove the glass from Armand. Work with them to find it.”

“There might be, but-”

“Try.” Danielle started toward the doors. “I’ll be in my chambers. Send a page to fetch me if anything changes.”

“What will you be doing?” asked Talia.

“Finding my son.”

Snow paused when she reached Fisherman’s Canal, the narrow waterway that ran along the base of the white cliffs. The foulness of fish and old bait permeated the air. Half-finished sailing ships huddled like rotting corpses in the shipyard to her right. To her left, buildings crowded the rocky land closest to the cliff. Most were stilted on columns of wood or stone, protecting them from waves and high tides. Taverns and inns competed with warehouses and shops. All were built with steep, reinforced roofs to protect them from falling snow and ice in winter.

A single rockslide would crush half the harbor. Snow squinted, searching for the spells that protected the buildings below. Her vision was sharper than before. With only the moon and stars, she could still discern details that only a few days ago would have eluded her in full sunlight: a nest tucked into a crag of rock, a slender sapling clinging desperately to the cliffside close to the top. The magic shone as if aflame: strong charms, but someday their power would decay. All magic failed eventually.