Jim Hines - The Snow Queen's shadow

Danielle allowed herself a small smile. “This must be some new use of the word ‘innocent’ with which I’m unfamiliar.”

“Ha! True enough.” Hephyra gave a slight bow. “You bargain like a fairy, Highness. Cold and ruthless.” She spun away and began shouting orders to the Phillipa ’s crew.

Neither Danielle nor Talia spoke until Hephyra was back on board. The dryad’s hearing was sharp as an owl’s.

“A fairy bargain indeed,” Talia said softly. “I don’t think she meant it as a compliment.”

“She’s more right than you know.”

Talia was already moving to unload the carriage. “How so?”

“Hephyra is a living, thinking creature. Do you really believe Beatrice would have passed her to me like some trinket?”

Talia’s eyes widened. “You bluffed her?”

“The Phillipa is the fastest ship in Lorindar. We need that speed.” Danielle stomped her feet, shaking slush from the soles of her boots. Guilt and shame warred with that need, and once again, need won out. “I secured her help the only way I could.”

With that, she called to one of the hawks that hunted from the cliffs. The hawk swooped down to land atop the carriage, black talons gouging the wood. Danielle carefully tied a message to the hawk’s leg with a silver ribbon. She had prepared the note before they even left the palace. “Gerta will be on her way shortly. We leave as soon as the Phillipa is ready.”

Talia sat on the starboard rail of the quarterdeck, one leg hooked through the rail for balance against the swaying of the ship. Danielle stood at the bow, illuminated by the brass lantern hanging from the foremast. Steam rose from the tin mug clutched in her hands. The overly strong tea was Snow’s own recipe, a blend designed to ease Danielle’s seasickness. But the tea could only do so much, and the white-capped waves below promised another miserable night for the princess.

A pair of dark shapes surfaced in the water ahead. She tensed, even as she recognized them as two of the dolphins Danielle had been chatting with off and on since leaving Lorindar two days ago. Talia’s cape was making her jumpy.

The assassin known as the Lady of the Red Hood had once used this cape to hide herself from detection, defying even Snow’s magic mirror. Talia hoped it would do the same now, but the wolfskin sewn into the cape had other effects on the wearer, shortening her temper and making her yearn for something-anything-to hunt and chase.

Talia hopped from the rail and crossed the deck to listen as Danielle questioned the dolphins. Her communication with the animals went in only one direction, so she spent much of her time trying to understand the dolphins’ reports. One of the dolphins darted away a short distance, then returned. The wind swallowed Danielle’s question, but the dolphin jumped from the water, chittering loudly before diving beneath the waves.

Danielle’s gaze followed them east. “We’re gaining on them.”

Talia swallowed her next question. If Danielle knew how far they were behind Snow, she would have said.

Had Bea been on board, the Phillipa would have already caught up with Snow’s stolen ship. When the fairy queen gave this vessel to Beatrice years ago, much of its magic had been bound to her. But even without her, the Phillipa was one of the fastest vessels in the water. It was simply a matter of waiting.

Talia hated waiting. The cape added the wolf’s impatience to her own, making her even more aware of every interminable moment.

Danielle was silent, lost in her own thoughts, so Talia strode toward Hephyra at the wheel. Stub, the ship’s cat, perched on her shoulders. Stub was a scraggly-looking thing with only three legs, but he was as comfortable on the Phillipa as his mistress.

Hephyra reached up to scratch Stub’s chin with one hand. “The last time I sailed for your princess, she nearly sank my ship,” she said by way of greeting.

“Since when do dryads worry about ‘nearly’?” Talia waited a beat, then added, “Since when do dryads worry about anything, for that matter?”

“True enough.” Hephyra’s sharp laugh carried over the noise of the crew. She turned to survey the ship, and her gaze lingered on Gerta. Gerta had scampered up the foremast with one of the crew. She sat on the yard, one hand clinging to a line, laughing as the ship bobbed and swayed.

Talia winced as Gerta pulled herself to her feet, but she acted as steady as any sailor. Her red hair streamed behind her like a banner. The wind flapped her jacket and pressed her shirt to her skin.

“Your friend has sailed before, I take it?” asked Hephyra.

“Gerta never even saw the ocean until two days ago.” Though who could say what skills Snow might have given her. Gerta could speak and read, knew magic, and in most ways behaved like a woman of twenty years instead of a creation less than a week old.

“She takes to it well. Much as you did.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, Hephyra stepped close enough for Talia to feel the heat of the dryad’s body. “And what of you, Talia? I could use a woman of your skills to help keep the crew in line. With Beatrice gone…”

It wasn’t the first time Hephyra had made such an offer. Talia had never been able to figure out whether she was serious. “I’ve seen you fight. You don’t need me.”

“There are other kinds of needs.” Hephyra looked past her to Danielle. “What holds you to Lorindar, now that your queen is gone?”

Talia pulled the red cape tighter against the wind. “Lorindar is my home. The only one I have.”

“And I’m sure your feelings for Snow have nothing to do with it.”

Talia’s face warmed, drawing a chuckle from Hephyra.

“She’s quite smitten with you, you know.”

“What?” The word emerged louder than Talia had intended. “Snow never-”

“Not Snow. I felt it the moment she stepped on board. Almost magical, her hunger for you.”

Gerta. Talia shook her head. “That’s impossible. She’s not-” She caught herself. They hadn’t told Hephyra the full details about Gerta’s origins. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“Sometimes that’s a good thing. Adds mystery.”

Talia said nothing.

“Ah, Talia. Men have killed for the chance to share my bed, but you turn me down. Young Gerta pines for you, and you hardly give her a second glance.” Hephyra sighed. “You’re like a beggar who shows up at a banquet hoping for jellied swan. You ignore the feast laid out around you, starving to death while you wait for that swan to arrive.”

“I’m not starving,” Talia said, too sharply.

“Of course not. You spent a month dining on your friend Faziya, didn’t you?”

Talia’s face grew hot, and Hephyra laughed.

“I know everything that happens on my ship, remember? Including how you and your friend spent your time on the voyage back from Arathea.”

“Faziya stayed for six weeks, not a month,” Talia said softly. They had both known it wouldn’t last. Faziya’s home was in Arathea, the one place Talia couldn’t go.

“And you took advantage of the time you had.” Hephyra clapped her shoulder. “Nothing shameful there. You were happy. You both were. Why not allow yourself to be happy again?”

“It’s not that simple.” Gerta wasn’t even human… not that she expected such minor details to bother Hephyra. “Gerta… she’s younger than she appears.”

“Looks ripe enough to me.”

Talia punched her on the shoulder, then winced. Even with the added strength and power of the wolfskin, it was like punching a tree.

Hephyra’s expression turned uncharacteristically gentle. “How long do you plan to wait for her?”

“Talia!” Danielle hurried over, saving her from having to respond. “We’re ready.”