The Snow Queen's Shadow

differently than—”
    “Your bargain called on you to give Jakob to the Duchess six months after your return to Lorindar,” Gerta interrupted.
    Danielle frowned, looking more confused than annoyed. “That’s correct, and therein lies the problem.”
    “It’s a problem that will still be waiting in the morning. You’ve more than five months to find a solution.” Gerta wrapped a hand around one of the wine bottles and whispered a spell. The wax seal softened, and she plucked it neatly from the neck. The cork followed, jumping into her palm.
    “You interrupted my meeting for wine?” Danielle asked. Talia could hear the warning in her words, similar to the tone she used with Jakob.
    “Yes.” Gerta glanced at Talia. “Sit down.”
    Talia shook her head. “You told me Danielle ordered me here.”
    “I lied.” Gerta gestured at a chair, which swiveled on one leg as if to invite Talia to sit. Gerta nibbled her lower lip, her confidence vanishing. “I have the memories Snow gave me, but they’re a puzzle with only half of the pieces. Mostly I remember a childhood that never happened. I . . . I was hoping you could tell me about her.”
    She took a drink, then offered the bottle to Talia. When Talia didn’t move, Gerta sighed and slid it to Danielle.
    “Snow giggled too much,” Gerta said. “She always thought me too dour, and sought to cheer me up. When we studied magic, Snow would read the incantations in the voices of various Lords. It made our mother so angry . . . There was one noble, I forget her name, who spoke with a horrible lisp. Snow was mimicking her while casting a spell which was supposed to purify a goblet of poisoned wine. Snow slurred the words so badly the wine exploded from the cup. Everyone it splashed developed the most awful rash.”
    “I see.” Danielle held up the bottle. “Should I be worried about this?”
    Gerta grabbed the second bottle, using magic to open this one as well. “Not about poison or magic, no. The taste, on the other hand . . . Arathean wine is far too sour for my liking. Much like some Aratheans I know.”
    Talia ignored the barb. She set her own bottle on the table and backed away. “I have duties to attend to. If you need anything—”
    “One of your duties is to guard the princess.” Danielle took a drink from the bottle. “With this much wine, I’ll likely need your protection by the time this night is done. Join us, Talia.”
    Talia didn’t move. “Is that an order?”
    “Does it have to be?”
    Reluctantly, Talia took the chair beside Gerta. Gerta slid her a bottle hard enough to make it tip. Talia caught it instinctively.
    “What would you like to know, Gerta?” asked Danielle.
    “Everything.” Gerta drank several swallows of wine, then made a face. “I have my memories, and the things I’ve learned going through her library, but I want to know her. Who she was in your eyes.”
    Danielle pursed her lips. “With the exception of Armand and his parents, Snow was the first person to make me feel truly welcome here.” Danielle stared at one of the windows. “I first learned who she was in the library, shortly after Armand was kidnapped.”
    Talia forced herself to listen as Danielle described their first journey together into Fairytown, to rescue Armand from the Duchess and Danielle’s stepsisters.
    Gerta spoke next, describing a time she and Snow had snuck through the palace to visit their father. Snow had rarely spoken of him, save to describe him as crippled by her mother’s magic, little more than a puppet of skin and bone. Gerta and Snow had brought him wildflowers, which they wove into his hair as he slept. “He looked so pale, almost colorless.”
    “Like Beatrice,” Talia said, the words slipping out.
    Gerta glanced up, then nodded. “Snow gave me very few memories of Beatrice, but yes.”
    Talia raised her bottle, drinking deeply and concentrating only on the smooth, smoky taste of the wine. She returned the bottle to the table and used her thumbnail to pick at a bit of wax that clung to the side of the mouth. She had spent far more time with Snow than either of them, but a part of her wanted to keep those memories, to protect them and lock them away.
    Talia glanced at Gerta’s eye patch. Talia had lost so much, but Gerta . . . she had never even known her sister. Not really.
    Talia stared at her reflection in the glass. “Snow once made it rain urine in Prince Armand’s bedroom.”
    Both Danielle and Gerta gaped.