Jim Hines - The Snow Queen's shadow

“There’s a quicker way, and safer, if any of Snow White’s slaves have infiltrated the city and are watching.” He pointed to a stone building at the end of a street lined with inns and bars.

“An icehouse?” Gerta asked. The building was squat, not even a full story high. “I don’t understand.”

“Could this be a trick?” Danielle asked softly. Talia wasn’t sure whether the Stormcrows spoke the tongue of Lorindar, but neither of them reacted.

“A little late for that question.” Talia shook her head. “Nothing’s certain, but if they wanted us dead or captured, there are easier ways to go about it.”

Vachel unlocked the icehouse door. It was twice as thick as a normal door. Fog spilled into the street, and Talia glimpsed large blocks of ice stacked against the walls inside. Straw lined the stone walls and carpeted the floor, save for a wooden trapdoor in the center of the room.

“Watch the steps,” Forssel said as he led them inside and hauled open the trapdoor, revealing a narrow staircase.

“You’re not worried about people discovering your secret way into the palace?” asked Talia.

Forssel grinned. “Anyone watching saw a group of workers coming in for ice. A charm of suggestion, not true illusion. It dampens curiosity, and as they wander away, their minds will convince them they saw us emerge hauling a block back to a nearby tavern.”

Candlelight flickered to life from Forssel’s fingertips. Vachel hauled the door shut. There were no windows, and the single flame didn’t provide much light. Talia stepped carefully, testing each step as she descended after Forssel. Inside, the air stank of magic.

Downstairs was even colder. She pulled her cape tight, but couldn’t block the icy air that snuck through the layers to chill her skin. The floor was crushed gravel. Larger blocks of ice lined three walls. A variety of hammers and chisels hung from the fourth.

“In summer, this room is filled and sealed off,” said Forssel. “But for winter, the people move smaller blocks upstairs for easier access. Runoff from the streets, magically purified, feeds into this room through the pipes in the corners.”

“I see no passageway or tunnel.” Talia kept her hands in her sleeves.

“It’s here.” Gerta squinted at the ice. “The enchantment isn’t in the ice, but in the pipes.”

Forssel frowned. “That’s right.” He stepped past Gerta and pressed his hands to the ice, which began to melt at an unnatural rate. Water poured down, splashing and disappearing into the gravel. When he stepped back, the outline of a doorway remained, perfectly carved in the ice. “If you’re truly who you say, this will take you to the palace.”

“What if we’re not?” Talia asked.

Vachel chuckled. “In that case, it will take you… somewhere else.” He and Forssel backed toward the stairs, not so subtly blocking the only other way out.

Danielle straightened. “Thank you.” She touched a hand to the ice. Cold water dripped down her palm and trickled along her wrist.

Talia caught her shoulder. “I’m going first.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t a trap,” Danielle said.

“I did.” Talia touched the doorway. The door opened inward, revealing a dark tunnel through the ice. “I’ve been wrong before.”

Talia stepped into the darkness. She had taken only two steps when a voice spoke from behind.

“You know, you’re much prettier when you smile.”

Talia spun. The ice room had vanished, replaced by old ruins and desert sand. Her friends were gone, as were the Stormcrows. In Forssel’s place stood Snow White, dressed in a yellow Kha’iida robe, her headscarf hanging loose from her neck.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Snow continued. “The smoldering look works for you, but I’ve always preferred your laughter.”

Talia’s sword shook in her hand. Snow’s face showed no sign of scars or cuts. Her hair was pure black, as it had been when they first met. Her eyes were wide, full of amusement, but it was the untainted joy in her laughter that convinced Talia to lower her weapon. “This is Arathea.”

Snow shrugged. “We had to leave in such a hurry the last time. We didn’t even have time for a proper tour of your homeland. This is the palace where you grew up, isn’t it?”

Talia turned about. The last time she was here, she had fought a fairy army. As if conjured by the thought, the sound of hoofbeats chilled her skin. Her sword snapped into a guard position. Howling filled the air, followed by screams. “The Wild Hunt?”

“They’re dreams, nothing more.”

Talia tried to calm her breathing, fighting memories of the destruction the Hunt had left in its wake. They were victims of an ancient fairy curse, twisted into the very embodiment of chaos and death. “So they can’t hurt us.”

“I never said that.” Snow’s lips quirked. “Dreams have power. You should know this.”

Talia snorted. “And you should know it’s been a while since I’ve dreamed.”

Snow acknowledged the point with a tilt of her head. “It’s a shame, really.” She stepped closer, sliding a hand up Talia’s arm. “Dreams can be quite… invigorating.”

Talia shivered. She was dressed similarly to Snow, in a jade robe and matching head scarf. Her red cape was gone, and with it her best hope of fighting the Wild Hunt.

“Don’t worry,” Snow said, tugging Talia’s scarf free. Real head scarves were thick, woven to protect the wearer from the desert sun. This one floated away like silk. “They’re not coming for you this time.”

Talia forced herself to pull away. “Are you real? Or is this some trick, an illusion cast by the demon?”

“If so, then you’re already lost,” Snow said matter-of-factly. “You might as well enjoy it.”

The Hunt was closer now. Talia could see the growing dust storm that marked their approach. “You said they weren’t coming for me. Who-?”

Snow gestured past Talia, to where Danielle and Gerta sat upon a crumbled wall, sharing some kind of green melon. Talia tried to shout a warning, but no words emerged. She started to run. Her feet sank into the sand, deeper with each step.

“You can’t protect us all,” said Snow.

“Watch me.” Talia snarled and turned to face the Wild Hunt. Dream or no, she still owed the Hunt for the things they had done in Arathea.

Lips brushed her cheek, but when she spun around, Snow was gone. The thunder of the Wild Hunt fell silent. Light faded, and cold air embraced her. She took a step, and the sand beneath her feet changed to wood.

Magic jolted her body, so sharp she felt as though her heart momentarily stopped beating. She found herself in a small, finely furnished sitting room. The floor was patterned wood tiles, alternating triangles of light-and dark-stained oak that made the shapes appear to rise from the floor. Gerta was already here, sitting in one of the blue high-backed chairs spread around a low table. There were no windows, though the painted vines and trees on the wall gave the illusion of being in the woods.

“Danielle should arrive shortly,” Gerta said.

“Thank you.” Talia was unsurprised to see only unbroken wall behind her. There was only a single door on the opposite side of the room. She tried the handle and found it locked. She heard nothing beyond. “That dream. What was it?”

“You think the king would allow strangers into his home without first examining their minds and motives?”

“He saw that, did he?” Talia retained both her weapons and the red cape. She pulled the latter tight, feeling exposed. “What happens if he doesn’t like what he sees?”

“In my mother’s day, they said you would emerge… elsewhere. Some say she had hundreds of rooms built into the foundation of the palace, coffin-sized chambers with no light and no way out. Nothing but darkness, too cramped even to move as you slowly starved to death.” She cocked her head. “Though I don’t know if my mother would trap you somewhere she couldn’t question you. Somewhere she couldn’t listen to your screams.”