The Snow Queen's Shadow

Danielle knew the stories of mortals who passed into a fairy hill and were lost in their realm. They could wander for years and return to find only a single day had passed. To manipulate time was difficult, but within the Duchess’ power. Jakob would return in half a year’s time, but he might have aged years. And after so long in the Duchess’ care, he would have little or no memory of his human life.
    “I remember our terms.” Danielle folded her arms. “You’ve expressed so much interest in my son. I wanted you to be among the first to hear the news.”
    “What news?” Wariness sharpened her question.
    “Yesterday evening, in this church, my son Jakob was wed to Princess Rose Gertrude Curtana of Allesandria.”
    Gerta stepped forward and raised her hand, flashing a gold wedding band where all could see.
    “An . . . interesting match,” said the Duchess. “Though his father was equally daring in his choice of bride. Had I known, I would have sent the boy a gift.”
    “Man, not boy.” Danielle glanced at Armand, who nodded. “Under the laws of Lorindar, once married, my son is officially a man. As our bargain was only until Jakob came of age, that bargain is now ended. Lorindar thanks you for your aid.”
    The chill that followed was so palpable Danielle expected to see frost rising from the hole. She and Armand had spent many long hours discussing this move with Febblekeck and Trittibar. Both agreed with this interpretation of fairy and human law, but there was no way to guess how the Duchess would react. Danielle glanced at Talia, who slipped her hands into her sleeves. If things went badly, silver-bladed knives would be flying into the hole before anyone else could blink.
    The Duchess simply reached out, fingers spread as if searching for something unseen. According to Trittibar, had they been within the bounds of Fairytown, the Duchess would have sensed the instant the bargain was fulfilled. But Jakob had been wed in human lands, shielded by Father Isaac’s magic.
    The Duchess tilted her head in salute. “Well done, Queen Danielle. Perhaps your fairy blood is stronger than I realized.”
    “Perhaps,” Danielle said evenly.
    “Be wary. One day Jakob will leave the safety of your palace, and who knows what he might encounter. Your stories tell of those lured by the beauty of fairy magic, men who abandon the colorless mundanity of your world to join ours.”
    “Is that a threat?” Armand asked softly.
    “Not at all, King Armand. Merely a warning. You yourself have known our hospitality. If you could not resist, what chance will he have?” She paused briefly before adding, “I could teach him to protect himself . . .”
    Gerta stepped to the edge of the hole. “I’m more than capable of protecting my husband.”
    The Duchess laughed. “Child, you flatter yourself if you think you’ve the means to keep him from my reach. Your power is but a shadow of Snow White’s.”
    Gerta matched her smile. She reached into the pocket of her gown and produced a silk-wrapped bundle. She carefully unwrapped the silk to reveal a rose of mirrored glass. The petals were thin as foil, just beginning to open. Every thorn was sharp enough to draw blood. Colored light from the windows of the chapel flashed over the rose’s surface. “Not a shadow. A reflection.”
    “You sheltered my stepsisters when they kidnapped my husband,” Danielle said. “Your darklings tried to help them steal my child. You aided Arathea against us, resulting in the death of my stepsister.”
    “My darkling saved your lives in Allesandria,” the Duchess countered.
    “And we are grateful for its help and sacrifice.” She took the rose from Gerta and held it lightly in her hands. The glass was warm to the touch. “Just as we are grateful to Speas Elan for their aid. But you have never answered for your crimes against Lorindar, and I will not allow you to threaten my family again.”
    The Duchess had opened this portal expecting to receive Prince Jakob. When Danielle dropped the rose into the hole, it passed from the chapel into the Duchess’ realm. She reacted at once, clapping her hands loudly enough to make Danielle flinch. The rose shattered.
    “That was a mistake,” Gerta whispered.
    Light poured from the broken glass, bathing the Duchess in orange and red. “What is this?”
    “A sunrise, Your Grace,” said Danielle. “Captured within the mirror by Gerta’s magic, and released by your own hand.”
    The Duchess