Jim Hines - The Snow Queen's shadow

Laurence raised his scepter. Talia caught it in one hand and drew back her fist.

Lightning crackled along the scepter’s length. Laurence shifted his grip, twisting it free, then slamming the butt into the side of Talia’s head. Blue sparks popped from the scepter as he twirled it about, aiming it at Talia.

Talia’s hand was red and blistered. She touched her temple as she rose. With her other hand, she pulled the cape around her body.

Danielle stepped between them, facing Talia. “My son is out there. Jakob is still alive.” He had to be. “That skin lets you track like a wolf. Between that and Laurence’s magic, we might yet be able to find him. Would you let Jakob die, too?”

At first, Talia didn’t move. Only the rapid flare of her nostrils showed she was still breathing. Her pupils were tiny black beads, looking past Danielle to the king. A group of Stormcrows had gathered behind him in the hallway, but he raised a hand, keeping them back.

“I need you,” Danielle said.

Talia shuddered once, violently. Blood and tears dripped down her cheek, and her hands trembled.

Danielle grabbed her shoulder. Talia’s other arm jerked up to strike Danielle’s hand away. She hesitated, then brought her hand down on Danielle’s. Her grip threatened to break bones.

“Are you sure, Cousin?” Gerta asked softly.

Laurence frowned. “Sure of what?”

“That Snow White is truly dead?”

Talia’s shoulders jerked at Gerta’s words. Danielle held tight, though she wasn’t strong enough to stop Talia should she choose to do something impulsive. But for the moment, the fight appeared to have drained from her.

“We’re connected, yet I felt nothing,” Gerta continued.

“You believe we executed an imposter.” He pursed his lips. “Others have tried to infiltrate the palace, sending spies under cover of illusion or shapeshifting into innocuous forms. One of the early kings of Allesandria was killed when his brother secretly replaced six grapes at dinner with tiny elementals, transformed by magic.”

“Why send an imposter?” asked one of the Stormcrows. “Knowing she would be bound, unable to perform magic or act against us.”

“Perhaps so we would call off our hunt,” said Laurence. “But our protections are built for such trickery. I’m familiar with the shapeshifting magic her mother used. Such spells would not fool us. The Stormcrows can peer beneath the flesh of their prisoner to see the very core of the person.”

“A core tainted by Snow’s mirrors,” Danielle said. Hope and despair threatened to rip her in two. “Mirrors which carry a fragment of Snow herself into everyone she infects.”

“My mother underestimated her, too,” said Gerta. “Snow and I are magically bound. I doubt I could even survive with her dead.”

Laurence’s eyes narrowed. “Does that mean-”

“No,” Gerta said quickly. “I’m but a small part of the whole. Killing me would destroy whatever remains of Snow’s humanity, but the demon would survive.”

Danielle kissed Talia’s brow, then turned her full attention to Laurence. “Your Majesty, whoever you killed, it was not our friend. If you hope to prevent those visions, I suggest you let us see the body.”

Laurence was already whispering to his Stormcrows. Two left at a run, presumably heading toward the body. “Come with me. If Gerta is right about her bond, she should be able to tell us for certain whether it was my cousin we brought into the palace.”

Talia followed the others through the curving hallways. There were few corners, only passages that wove to and fro like knot work. The wolf’s anger surged through her with each step, but every time it ebbed, it left only emptiness. Every step eroded away a little more of her soul.

No, Gerta was right. She had to be. Snow was alive.

Talia wiped her cheek with her shoulder. Her face throbbed where King Laurence’s scepter had struck, and the skin of her hand was blistered, pain flaring with every movement.

“This place reminds me of Mother,” said Gerta. “Caked in plaster and whitewash, decorated in too much gold leaf. Give me the naked stone of the summer palace, the exposed beams and the honest strength of the walls.”

The king brought them to a wide marble staircase. “This leads into the Stormcrows’ tower,” he said, hurrying up to the heavy oak doors at the top of the stairs. A rap of his scepter opened the doors, and lanterns flared to life inside.

Snow White lay in the center of the room, her skin even paler than normal. Her throat had been cut. Blood stained her cloak and shirt bright red. Candles burned at the corners of a chalk rectangle around her body. Her hands and feet were bound with chains of blue metal.

“The chains inhibit her magic,” Laurence said softly. “From the moment she was captured, she was unable to use spellcraft. Her ice wasps were destroyed. Any that tried to follow would have been stopped by the magic of the palace walls.”

The sound that wrenched from Talia’s throat was somewhere between a whimper and a shout. Nobody tried to stop her from approaching the body, but as she reached the chalk marks, she found herself unable to move closer. Nothing pushed her away, but when she tried to take another step, her foot slipped to the side. She stretched out, and her arm was deflected to the left.

She dropped to one knee. She could smell the wards, like dust and honey. The smell grew stronger as she pressed one hand toward Snow, but the more she forced her hand forward, the more that force was turned against her.

“Even the magic of your cape isn’t strong enough to break through this barrier,” Laurence said.

“Why?” Talia gestured at the rectangle.

“If this is truly who it appears, then the demon was banished with her death, but we don’t know what other protections she might have carried. It will take days to cleanse her body. Until we do, nothing can pass in or out of the wards.”

Gerta sighed. “Only this isn’t her body.”

“Where was she captured?” Danielle asked. Her body was taut, and she blinked back tears as she looked at Snow.

“In the mountains to the north.”

The mountains. If Jakob was alive, that was where they should start hunting for him. For him and for Snow.

Talia closed her eyes, choosing Gerta’s truth over the evidence before her. What did the demon gain? This was more than simply an attempt to throw the Stormcrows off of her trail. Could the body be diseased? Plague was a mundane threat… but it was too slow and uncertain a weapon. Anything carried by the imposter was trapped with her.

She spun toward Laurence. “Who captured her?”

“Selerin led a force of six Stormcrows.” He bowed his head. “Two were killed in the fighting. A third was badly injured, though he will survive.”

Meaning four had returned with the body. Snow could have infected them-Or would Laurence’s magic have detected that? Inspector Relmar had recognized the demon’s touch, back on the Phillipa. Better to sneak her mirror shards into the palace, but how would she hide their magic?

“Those chains,” she whispered. “Do all of your Stormcrows carry them?”

“Yes,” said Laurence.

And Snow had fought and killed any number of Stormcrows. “What would happen if a splinter of glass were set within one of the links?”

“The metal would render it inert.” Laurence’s expression turned grim. “Until something jostled them free.”

“The injured Stormcrow.” Snow could have planted the chain on him during the fight. All it would take was for a single splinter to fall free, at which point its magic would return. It would pull the cold and moisture from the air, using its ice body to climb up and infect the Stormcrow, who could then shake the rest loose.