The Mermaids Madness

Danielle hadn’t even realized she was there.
    Talia drove her fingers into Varisto’s wrist and the ax dropped to the ground. He grabbed for her, but Talia moved too quickly. Danielle saw her fingers jab the soft flesh beneath Varisto’s chin, and then she was spinning, one leg sweeping the prince’s legs. Varisto slammed to the ground.
    “And she’s my princess,” Talia said, kicking his ax away. “I’ll thank you to leave her in one piece.”
    “Talia, please.” Danielle beckoned Talia back.
    “You tell me Morveren stole my brother’s soul, yet you protect her.” Varisto sat up, twisting his sash in his hands. “I know the knife you speak of. I’ve seen it many times. To think my brother’s spirit was within my reach, and I never—
    “You couldn’t have known.” Danielle knelt beside Varisto. “I’m sorry for your loss, Varisto. Nothing we do can bring Gustan back. But we can free him, and I can give you the chance to say good-bye.”

CHAPTER 14

    T HE WORST PART ABOUT BEING FORCED to work with Morveren was that deep down, a part of Snow was enjoying it.
    They sat on the floor near the front of the chapel, while Talia watched from the altar like an angry, well-armed hawk. Even with Father Isaac’s protections, Talia looked like she would cut Morveren’s throat at the slightest threatening sound. But Morveren had barely spoken, save to instruct Snow as they crafted a new soul trap.
    Snow still hadn’t forgiven Talia. They hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to one another, but Talia’s cockeyed smirk said it all. Now we’re even.
    Maybe so.There would still be newts and slugs aplenty when this was over. But Snow’s anger soon gave way to fascination as she watched Morveren work.
    Morveren’s skill surpassed even that of Snow’s mother, though her power was less. Morveren reminded her of a scrimshaw artist who had once carved a portrait of her mother in whalebone. His knife had moved in small, careful strokes, each one following the next with no hesitation. Morveren displayed that same care as she set one hair after another over the mouth of a golden chalice, fixing each one in place with a bead of white wax.
    “What happens to them?” Snow asked.
    “Who?”
    “The souls you consume for their power.”
    Morveren spliced another hair through the web. “I don’t know. I use them until their strength fades. Eventually they slip away. I like to believe they find their way to whatever world awaits them.” She picked up the cup and moved it toward Snow. “Be careful. Too much power will destroy the trap. I could come with you to—”
    “You’re staying here.” Snow calmed herself as she took the cup. Her vision had improved slightly with sleep, but her eyes still watered if she tried to focus on fine details like the individual hairs.
    Each of those hairs had been carefully trimmed from Beatrice’s locks. Morveren had used them to weave a white web, one which should allow Beatrice to pass freely while trapping Gustan. A hole at the center would allow the hilt of the knife to rest in the cup.
    Snow held her breath, afraid to disturb the web as she carried the chalice toward the door. Stepping through that door was like throwing off a stifling blanket. It wasn’t that she couldn’t use magic inside the church. She had tested a spell or two, and with the help of her mirrors, Snow suspected she could overpower Father Isaac’s wards if she had to. Probably. But even her aborted efforts had left her drained, her head pounding.
    The pain in her skull returned as she wove power into the web on the chalice. She could feel the hairs vibrating like lute strings.
    “Your eyes are watering.” Talia stood looking down at her. Snow hadn’t heard her approach. “You need rest.”
    “Are you offering to take over?” Snow ran a finger over the hairs. Physically, she could have snapped them with ease, but to the trapped souls, the bonds would be strong as steel. To Gustan, at least.
    Assuming Snow hadn’t poured too much magic into the trap. Or too little. And that Beatrice was still strong enough to escape. “It’s ready. I think.”
    “That’s all?” asked Talia.
    “Magic doesn’t always involve smoke and lights and explosions.”
    “You wouldn’t know it from some of your experiments.”
    Snow stuck out her tongue and carried the cup back into the church. The cup felt heavier, and she could feel the wards pressing in on her spells, but the enchantment was already in