The Snow Queen's Shadow

his battle between arrogance and fear. “My mother believed in control.” She flexed her hand, feeling the stiffness of healing cuts on her palm. “Answer me one question, and I’ll accept your oath.”
    He rose and took an eager step closer. “What question is that, Your Majesty?”
    “After my mother died, when the Circle called for my execution, to whom did you lend your voice and support?” When he didn’t respond, Snow began to pace around him. “Those loyal to my mother sought to punish me for her death. Others saw it as a chance to free Allesandria from the rule of Curtana, to put a new family on the throne. Not even Beatrice would fight for my birthright.”
    He blinked. “Beatrice, Your Majesty?”
    “How did you vote, Stevan?”
    He bowed low. “I had seen Queen Curtana’s cruelty, both to her people and to her daughter. You acted to protect yourself. I said you were innocent of wrongdoing. Alas, the Circle would not listen to my arguments.”
    The lies were foul as spoiled milk. The man wore his greed like a crown. His fat tongue flicked hungrily over cracked lips. Even as he lowered his head, he stared lustfully through his lashes. His gaze crawled over her skin, and the raw desire made her shudder. Desire both for her body and for her power.
    “Thank you for coming.” Snow offered her hand. He took it eagerly, his sweaty fingers tight as he kissed her knuckles. Snow concentrated, casting a minor variation of a familiar spell that slipped through the cracks in his defenses. “I remember you well, and had hoped you would accept my invitation.”
    Stevan risked a smile, even as he flexed his hand. “Thank you , Your Majesty.” He frowned and shook his fingers. “I’m glad to see you returned home at last. Under your wise rule . . .”
    Snow backed away. “I am not my mother, Stevan. Flattery is but another lie, and I’ve no tolerance for such. Nor for groveling cowards who care for nothing but their own fortunes.”
    Stevan cried out and clutched his arm. The other nobles backed away. Several whispered warding spells, but none yet dared to act against Snow.
    “You say you knew her cruelty, yet you did nothing to stop her?” Snow returned to her throne, settling herself on the ice. “You stood by as she tortured those who displeased her? Burned their bodies to ash while their loved ones looked on?”
    He fell, whimpering. By now the blood in his arm had frozen solid. Chunks of ice would be breaking away, flowing through his veins toward his heart. He would be dead long before the rest of his body froze.
    Snow turned her attention to the other nobles. “And what of you? How many of you watched and did nothing?”
    One man stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I know not what my father did, but he died only two years past. I never knew your mother. Nor did we know you yet lived.”
    “Are you hoping to convince me of your loyalty?” Snow asked. “Your honesty? Yet you also took an oath to serve King Laurence, and now you’ve come to me. Or did you accept my invitation in order to discover my location and destroy me? You think I’ve not noticed your failed telepathic attempts to summon help?”
    He attacked without warning, but the others were quick to follow. There was little artistry to their magic. A simple spell of flame, a curse to destroy her senses, another to make her sleep . . . one woman did attempt a rather unusual form of teleportation, trying to transport parts of Snow’s body to different locations. Snow wondered briefly where she had learned that particular trick.
    Their spells never touched her. Snow stood upon the largest magical mirror ever created. It absorbed their attacks, reflecting them back not at the casters, who would presumably know how to counter their own spells, but at their companions.
    Within seconds, three more nobles had fallen. Snow’s guardians, men twisted into creatures of fur and fang and claw, closed in to deal with the remaining two.
    “Take the bodies to the edge of the palace. Spill their blood in an unbroken ring.” Noble blood, full of magic. “I will not be alone, my dear Stevan.”
    A flicker of magic tugged her attention to the child. Jakob had finally managed to conjure an image within his makeshift mirror. He sat with his back to the carnage, his shoulders shaking. Snow walked over and tugged the bloody ice from his hands.
    When she saw what he had done, she nearly dropped it. Within the ice was Snow herself. Not as she was, but