The Snow Queen's Shadow

wouldn’t ease up long enough for her to think. All she could do was react. “You know what the demon has done. I can’t—”
    She swore and ducked again. When she surfaced, she spied another fire approaching from the shore, and her chest tightened. If the fire was any indication, this dragon was bigger than any Talia had seen so far, and it was approaching quickly. “Get out of here, Gerta.”
    “Shut up.” Gerta’s voice was resonant.
    The first dragon raised its head, spouting a halfhearted tower of fire that quickly sputtered out. The one on shore answered in kind.
    Talia bobbed in the water. Sweat stung her eyes. She was certain her rapid breathing would soon pull the dragons’ attention back to her, but she couldn’t control it any more than she could stop the drumbeat of her heart.
    The dragon on the shore breathed again. As if this were a signal, the other two dove away, disappearing into the water.
    “Get up here.”
    Talia didn’t question. She braced her back against one pillar and her feet against the next, pushing herself higher. Her muscles screamed, but she kept climbing until she reached the bridge itself. Gerta grabbed her wrist, helping her over the railing.
    Talia’s legs gave out. She clung to the rail, trying to stand. Her limbs felt like warm dough.“The third dragon—”
    Gerta extended a hand toward the shore and closed her fist. The flame vanished. “The other two were both male. They weren’t hungry enough to take on a mother dragon.”
    “A mother? All I saw was the fire.” Talia collapsed onto her back, staring at the stalactites overhead.
    Gerta rolled her eyes. “The males’ flame is narrower and hotter. You really need to read more, Talia.” She spread her fingers, gesturing at Talia’s body. Water crackled as Talia’s clothes and hair froze to the bridge.
    “What are you doing?” Talia grimaced as the ice reached her arm where the dragon had torn her sleeve. She flexed, testing Gerta’s magic. Her hand peeled away from the stone. She might lose some skin, but she should be able to wrench herself free. “I suppose freezing to death is less painful than dragon fire, and the ice will help the swelling on my elbow, but—”
    “Shut up.” Gerta knelt beside Talia. One hand reached out, fingertips tracing Talia’s cheekbones, then moving down the side of her neck. “I couldn’t let you die. I should have, but I couldn’t.”
    “I’ll be just as dead from the cold.”
    Gerta rapped Talia’s nose. “Why would she do this to me? I understand splitting off her soul, protecting a part of herself so I could be used to stop the demon. But why make me love you?”
    “Maybe to stop you from running away once you realized what we had to do?”
    Gerta wrinkled her nose. “You smell like dragon spit.”
    “Dragon spit?” Talia sniffed. There was a rather foul smell, now that Gerta pointed it out. A combination of mucus and fetid meat.
    “It’s one of the ways they hunt,” said Gerta. “By spraying spit over the water. The ripples bring fish to the surface to investigate, and then whoosh .” She pantomimed breathing fire.
    If Gerta hadn’t told her to duck . . . Talia stopped struggling. “Thank you.”
    Gerta turned away, searching the water. “Snow was jealous of you, you know.”
    Talia stared. “I don’t understand.”
    “When you returned from Arathea with your friend Faziya. She watched the two of you, saw how happy you were together.”
    Talia’s breathing and heartbeat had gradually slowed as her body realized she was safe, at least for the moment. Now both increased again. “Why? Snow had—”
    “Companionship, yes. Not love. When Faziya returned to Arathea and you retreated to your room to pout, that’s when Snow prepared her love potion, one which would allow her to love you the way Faziya did.”
    “I wasn’t pouting.”
    Gerta rolled her eyes.
    Talia relaxed, concentrating on the feel of the frozen spikes of her hair that jabbed her scalp. “So why didn’t she?”
    “You know why.” Gerta sounded distant. “She’s always enjoyed the company of men, but have you ever known her to fall in love?”
    “Only once. Before she came to Lorindar.”
    “Roland,” Gerta agreed. The hunter Snow’s mother had sent into the woods to find her, to cut out Snow’s heart and return it to the queen. Instead, he had fallen in love with Snow, and they had lived together for a time . . . until the queen found them. Snow had never shared the