Jim Hines - The Snow Queen's shadow

“You spoke with Laurence,” she whispered, seeing that exchange through Duino’s eyes, hearing the king’s promises to send reinforcements. But Duino refused to wait. He had to protect his people, to put an end to the chaos Snow’s minions spread through his land.

Duino was believed to be a good man who had devoted his life to serving his people, but Snow was privy to his innermost desires, the secrets he hid even from himself. In his heart, Duino was as rotted and maggot-ridden as the rest, no matter how pure he appeared from without.

“You can’t!” Duino’s voice, strained and desperate as he glimpsed her plans from within. “Allesandria-”

“Has earned its fate,” Snow said firmly. She closed her eyes, allowing him to see more.

“So alone…” Duino’s struggle faded. Was that pity in his words?

Snow reached out, feeling those touched by her mirrors. Hundreds now, and soon they would be thousands. “Not anymore.”

With a thought, she tightened the threads and crushed the two captive spirits to nothingness. Her body belched in response, and then she was drawing the rest into herself.

Ever since an unexpected journey to Arathea months before, Danielle had been spending more time with her tutors, trying to learn the languages of her neighboring kingdoms. She was nowhere near as fluent as Talia or Gerta, but she was making progress. Not enough to follow all of Noita’s conversation, but she recognized the word “flowers” when Noita gestured toward a cluster of tall, flame-colored tiger lilies.

“She’s telling Gerta to pick a flower and inhale its scent,” whispered Talia. Like Danielle, she kept her weapon ready. “They show the future, and might help us to see what we must do.”

“Have her go first,” said Danielle. “To prove it’s not another trap.”

Talia barked another order. Noita sagged and walked over to pick one of the flowers. She brought it to her nose and breathed deeply.

“My garden.” Tears filled Noita’s eyes. “My beautiful garden.”

Danielle couldn’t follow the rest. Noita wept, repeating the same phrase over and over.

“‘She destroyed it all,’” said Gerta. “I think she’s talking about Snow. Noita meant to hide here, but Snow finds her. Because of us.” Gerta used a small knife to cut another flower. She pressed her nose to the petals and inhaled. She frowned, then tried again. “I think I have a bad flower.”

“What do you see?” asked Talia.

“Nothing.” Gerta dropped the flower and cut a new one from the ground. “Maybe Snow’s magic is blocking the vision. There’s nothing but blackness.”

Talia snarled something at Noita, whose face softened.

“You poor girl.” Even though Danielle didn’t understand most of the words, she could hear the sadness in Noita’s voice as Talia continued to translate. “Snow might be able to hide herself, but there’s only one reason the flowers would fail to show anything at all. The flowers show your future. Continue upon this road, and you have none.”

Gerta paled. She stared at the flower, then inhaled again, more deeply this time.

“Death clouds everything around it,” Noita said. “Not even your mother was strong enough to foresee her own end.”

Gerta flung the flower away. “Talia-”

“Those flowers also told Noita she’d be able to capture us, remember?” Talia said. “Magic is unreliable at its best, and she doesn’t strike me as the most trustworthy witch.”

“Let me try,” said Danielle.

“You’re sure?” Noita clucked her tongue. “Like your friend, you might not want to see the truth.”

Danielle used her sword to cut another tiger lily. Without a word, she lifted it to her face until the petals stroked her nose.

“Concentrate on the one you want to see,” Talia said, continuing to relay Noita’s words. “Your will and focus guide the visions.”

Danielle sniffed the flower. The garden melted away, revealing walls of ice. Fog carpeted the floor. Jakob sat playing with flat shards of ice, so clear they looked like glass. His skin was pale, his lips and fingernails blue from the cold, but he wasn’t shivering.

“What is it?” Talia’s voice, though Danielle barely heard her. Talia sounded as though she were shouting from a great distance.

“Jakob. He’s alive.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. The fog shifted enough for her to glimpse the floor, made of broken tiles of ice so smooth she could see her son’s reflection.

Jakob’s fingers were cut and bleeding, but he continued to rearrange the pieces of ice, his round face wrinkled in concentration. His breathing was far too slow.

“Jakob, it’s me!” In the past, Jakob had sometimes been able to sense when Danielle looked in on him through one of Snow’s mirrors, but not today.

“Where are they?” Talia’s voice, hard and emotionless.

Danielle’s vision shifted. She spotted Snow sitting on a throne of ice, watching Jakob. Snow had always been pale, but now the red had faded from her lips and cheeks. Even her eyes had lost much of their luster. Her hair was swept back, and she wore a crown of crystal or ice. Animated flakes of snow and glass flew about, haloing their mistress.

“It’s a palace of ice,” Danielle whispered. Green light shimmered and danced beyond windows of clear ice.

Snow rose from her throne. Her lips moved, but Danielle couldn’t make out what she was saying. Snow’s crown brightened like the sun, filling Danielle’s sight until she turned away.

A scream shattered the fading vision. Danielle spun, flinging the flower away and grabbing her sword.

“What is it?” Talia asked.

Danielle wiped her eyes, trying to will her surroundings into focus. The flower on the ground had wilted, the petals wrinkled and brown. “I heard… I saw Jakob. He’s alive.”

“What else did you see?” Noita asked.

“There was a scream. I don’t know whose.” She could still hear the sound, sharp with fear and pain. “I glimpsed Snow. She was so pale.”

“So Noita wasn’t lying about the flowers.” Gerta stared at the tiger lily in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Gerta.” Was it Snow who killed her? For all she knew, that could have been Gerta’s scream.

“The flowers show what might come,” Talia said firmly.

“If I’m to die-”

“Shut up,” snapped Talia. “You’re not dying.”

Danielle said nothing. Could they really change Gerta’s fate? What if she refused to accompany them, trying to save herself by avoiding Snow White? Danielle could order her to return to the Phillipa, send her back to Lorindar, but who was to say Snow wouldn’t intercept her before she reached the harbor? And could they find Jakob without Gerta’s help?

Danielle spun around. Despite the garden’s impressive size, she suddenly felt closed in. She needed out, to be somewhere the birds sang and the wind blew.

“That doesn’t give us enough.” Talia grabbed one of the last tiger lilies. “We have to know how to stop her.”

“Wait,” said Danielle, but Talia was already inhaling the flower’s scent. Her pupils grew large, and her features went slack.

Relief surged through Danielle, followed immediately by guilt. She had been afraid Talia would see nothing, as Gerta had. Danielle waited, her attention split between Noita and Talia. For Noita’s part, the strength seemed to have left her. She rested on her bench, body folded over her cane as she watched.

“What do you see, Talia?” asked Danielle.

“King Laurence. He’s bleeding. Snow cut him with her mirror.” Talia shook herself, then swore in Arathean. “If she controls the king of Allesandria, she’ll have one of the largest armies in the world at her disposal.”

“We’ll send word to Laurence,” said Danielle. “How far to the palace?”