The Mermaids Madness

the altar. “Beatrice, it’s us.” “The soul can’t hear you,” said Morveren.
    Snow tore a mirror from her choker and dropped it through the web. The glass rang against gold.
    “What are you doing?” Morveren asked, trying to pull herself higher.
    The mirror held the reflection of the glowing web. Snow concentrated, spreading that reflection beyond the boundaries of the glass, creating an illusory web within the cup. Like a bird to a window, Gustan broke away from Beatrice and lunged toward the mirror, seeing it as a second portal to freedom.
    “It’s done,” Snow whispered, pain and tears blinding her. “She’s free.”
    Father Isaac rested a hand on Beatrice’s forehead. “Her body and spirit are one.”
    Everyone gathered around the altar. The king took Beatrice’s hand in his and asked, “How long until she awakens?”
    “Not long.” Morveren backed away from the altar.
    “What of my brother?” Varisto asked.
    Snow wiped her face on her sleeve, blinking to try to clear her vision. She reached to take the cup and knife. The cup tilted onto its side and rolled toward the edge of the altar. Talia jumped to catch it . . . and missed. The cup bounced once on the floor, and then a gust of wind blew it into Morveren’s waiting hands. “I’m sorry, child. I can’t let you murder my granddaughter.”
    “Lirea’s air spirits,” Snow whispered. “They’re here. All of them.”
    The doors exploded outward. Wind spun through the church, knocking Snow back before she could ready her own magic. She could feel the power of the incense burning the spirits, but with every moment the wind blew more of the incense from the chapel. Candles toppled to the ground, their flames extinguished. Hangings on the wall tore free and whirled around the air. Talia sprang toward Morveren, one foot sweeping up in a kick, but Morveren dove aside, crawling beneath the bench.
    “How did they get in?” Danielle shouted.
    “They were already here.” Snow turned to the knife. “We carried them into the church ourselves.”
    Father Isaac spread his hands and approached Morveren, his robes fluttering. “Allow Gustan to move on.”
    The wind had knocked Danielle down. Other spirits held King Theodore and Prince Armand pinned against the benches. But so far nobody had actually been hurt. Snow held the altar with both hands, using her body to shelter Beatrice from the wind.
    Morveren clutched the cup to her chest. Her humming grew louder. Snow’s ears popped as the wind gained in strength, and then all was still. She could feel Isaac fighting to suppress the spirits’ anger. His own magic seemed untouched by the chapel’s protections.
    “Go in peace.” Isaac reached for the cup.
    One of the windows shattered in a storm of colored glass. A second followed, broken by the spirits.
    “Grandmother, stop!” Lannadae tried to reach Morveren, but the wind tossed her aside like a doll.
    Varisto clapped his hands. The ringing of his bracelets echoed throughout the church. Snow could hear the sound reaching beyond the walls, a summons of some sort. Breaking the window had weakened the wards. Moments later, Varisto’s ax spun through the open door, slapping into his hand. He leaped to strike, but the wind knocked him back.
    Snow squinted at Morveren, trying to understand. There was another spell worked into the chalice. Several of the hairs seemed to extend beyond the lip of the cup, reaching toward Morveren.
    “You wove your hairs with hers.” And Snow had missed it. She fought to maintain her balance. Her head pounded as she tried to erect a magical wall around Morveren. If she could sever Morveren’s connections to her spirits, they should dissipate.
    “A small thing, but enough to connect me to our trapped prince,” said Morveren. “Skill, rather than power. Now please move aside. I have no desire to hurt you.”
    “No.” The wind howled louder. Snow’s hair whipped about her face, blinding her. She grabbed her own knife, flipping the catch to reveal the mirror in the cross guard. She thrust the blade up, willing the strike to cut past mere air to the spirit’s heart. Her arm shook from the effort, but the wind diminished as the spirit fell back, wounded but not dead.
    “You’re a strong one,” Morveren said. “But you lack experience.”
    Even as Snow struggled to hold off one spirit, the rest attacked in unison. They smashed through her defenses, lifting her into the air.
    “Snow!” Talia jumped to