The Snow Queen's Shadow

looked to the woods. “Should we—”
    “He heard me,” Gerta said firmly. “I imagine things are rather chaotic right now. Give him time.”
    It wasn’t long before Laurence appeared in the ice. His features were blurred, making it difficult to discern his expression. Or perhaps he obscured himself deliberately. “Gerta? You found Ermillina?”
    “The demon is gone, Cousin.” Her words were edged, particularly the last.
    Danielle stepped to Gerta’s side. “Snow gave her life to destroy it.”
    “Princess Danielle. I’m glad to see you well.” Something in Laurence’s manner broke, making him sound not like a king but a man, exhausted and lost. “What of your son?”
    “Jakob is safe,” Danielle assured him.
    “I will send my people to escort you to the docks. Allesandria is in chaos, and I would not have you hurt as we work to bring things under control.”
    “No,” said Danielle. “Tell your people to bring us to Kanustius.”
    Laurence stared. “Your Highness, Kanustius is in ruins. Half the palace is destroyed.”
    “Snow was Princess of Allesandria. She deserves to be remembered alongside her father.”
    Talia pursed her lips. “I think she’d like that.”
    “Princess Whiteshore, Snow White attacked this nation. The lords of eleven provinces are dead or missing. She slaughtered—”
    “She accepted this fate in order to destroy the demon her mother summoned.” All of Danielle’s grief, her fury at Snow’s death, threatened to pour forth. She tightened her grip on her son. “Rose Curtana was a monster. Snow destroyed that monster, an act which gave you your throne, and you banished her for it. Today, she protected you from Rose Curtana’s power a second time. She gave her life to protect you. You will not turn your back on her again.”
    “I helped my cousin to escape before,” Laurence said. “But the law—”
    “Damn your law.” Danielle glanced at the others. Gerta’s lips were tight with her own anger. Talia simply nodded. “You will pardon Snow White and give her the honor she deserves. Lorindar gave you your throne, Your Majesty. You will give this to Snow.”
    Laurence didn’t respond. A distant voice in the back of her mind warned she had pushed too far, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She took a breath to calm herself, then added, “Also, I would reclaim my sword from your keeping, along with our other belongings, which you took while we were imprisoned in your dungeon.”
    Even through the distortions in the ice, she saw him wince. “Very well, Princess Whiteshore. I will send one of my Stormcrows to retrieve you.”
    “Send as many as you can spare,” said Danielle, looking back to the crumbling palace. “There are many victims here in need of their magic.”
     
    Aside from Danielle and her friends, only the king and one of his Stormcrows attended Snow’s funeral. Her body had been cremated, her ashes mixed into the stone that formed her obelisk.
    That obelisk was in place by the time Danielle arrived in the memorial garden. The garden had been better protected than much of the palace, and the walls had survived relatively unscathed, but the smell of smoke lingered in the air. Danielle identified Snow’s memorial at once by the fresh-turned earth surrounding its base. Made of white stone, speckled with polished silver, her monument stood beside the obelisk of Snow’s father.
    Talia stepped forward, touching the letters carved into the side. The Stormcrow frowned at the breach in etiquette, and Laurence started to speak, but a glare from Danielle silenced him. She and Gerta joined Talia. Gerta wore a white bandage over her ruined eye. No healing magic could restore what the darkling had destroyed.
    “What is it, Mama?” Jakob asked from Danielle’s arms. He had refused to be separated from her, and Danielle was more than willing to keep him close.
    “It says there lived a woman called Ermillina Curtana,” said Gerta. “She was Princess of Allesandria, and she died protecting her nation.”
    The Stormcrow began to speak. A slight hunch stole his height, and his bald scalp was spotted by age, but his voice carried clearly through the garden.
    “An old blessing,” Gerta whispered. “It means ‘Be at peace.’”
    Laurence stepped forward next. He used his scepter to cut his palm, and paced a slow circle around the obelisk, dripping blood into the earth. Gerta translated his words as he vowed to protect both Snow’s remains and her