The Snow Queen's Shadow

“I should take him back to his room to let him settle down.”
    Snow struck almost absentmindedly, slicing Nicolette’s cheek with the broken mirror. Nicolette gasped and grabbed her face.
    Snow could sense the tiny sliver working its way deeper into Nicolette’s flesh. Snow gave a mental push, helping the mirror’s magic to clear Nicolette’s mind and vision. For an instant, she saw as Nicolette did. Saw the bloody lines carved across Snow’s face, the way Snow squinted through her rheumy left eye. Age had wrinkled the skin by her eyes, and the gleaming ebony of her hair had begun to fade, replaced by strands the color of a dirty mop. Even her mother had never appeared so ugly.
    She pushed Nicolette aside, doing the same with the images in her mind. Jakob had run toward the kitchen. She hurried after and yanked open the kitchen door, releasing a wall of hot, humid air. Woodsmoke darkened the air from the brick oven burning on the far side of the room. Coals smoldered in the larger fireplace to her right. A half-butchered lamb lay upon the wooden table in the middle of the room.
    The kitchen staff stood like slack-jawed statues. Jakob was here, hiding behind one of the cooks, but they couldn’t tell whether he was playing another game or if there was some genuine threat. Snow licked her lips, wincing as her tongue touched one of the cuts left by her mirror. Nine people, not counting the prince. Most with knives or pots that could be used as weapons.
    Snow slipped a hand into her sack and pulled out a larger shard of glass. The edges cut her fingers, but she paid the pain no mind. She slammed the glass to the stone floor, where it exploded into a silver cloud.
    Snow pursed her lips and blew. Tiny fragments flew up, speckling skin with dots of red. In the time it took to draw a breath, her power spread into everyone in the room. Everyone save Jakob.
    Snow stepped around the table, past the oven. Jakob was squeezing into the corner between the oven and the wall. He tried to push her away.
    She pulled another shard from her sack and placed it directly against Jakob’s forehead. A drop of red welled from his skin where the glass had kissed it, but unlike the others, he appeared unaffected by her magic. He trembled and pressed harder against the wall.
    “Interesting.” Snow held no illusions about her own power. Any magic could be countered . . . just as any counter spell could be overcome. Jakob was a sniveling brat, with no magical training, meaning his ability to resist her mirror was something inherent. Something in his very blood. “What do you see when you look at me, Jakob?”
    He shook his head.
    “You saw it in your father, too, didn’t you?” She thought back to that conversation, heard through Armand’s senses. “Not as strongly, but you saw.”
    A servant boy of ten or so years peeked in through the door. “The princess would like desserts served soon . . .” His voice trailed off as he took in the kitchen staff standing dumbstruck, and Jakob whimpering in the corner. “What’s wrong, Jakob?”
    Snow frowned. The boy was familiar . . . that dark skin, the long reddish hair . . . “What’s your name?”
    “Tanslav, ma’am.”
    Tanslav. Ah, yes. Snow had helped to rescue this boy from Rumpelstilzchen earlier this year. He had been one of many children taken by the filthy fairy thief, but Danielle and Beatrice had been unable to locate his family. So Tanslav had made the palace his home. “You’re friends with the prince, right?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Snow waved a hand, and specks of glass peppered Tanslav’s face. He started to cry out, but Snow’s power clamped down, tightening his throat. “Pick up that cleaver, Tanslav.”
    Blood trickled down Tanslav’s cheeks as he obeyed.
    “Cut your arm.”
    Jakob covered his eyes, but Snow yanked him around, forcing him to watch. “I can make him slash his own throat. I could do the same to your father. Do you understand?”
    Jakob tried to tug free, but Snow merely tightened her grip. He whimpered, then nodded.
    “Come along,” said Snow. “I’ve a great deal of work to do, and you’re going to help.”

CHAPTER 4

    T ALIA HURRIED THROUGH THE CORRIDOR toward the private dining room. According to a page named Andrew, Snow had been seen heading in that direction a short time ago. But when Talia entered, she saw only Nicolette standing beneath the window, blood dripping from her cheek.
    “What happened?” Jakob’s food sat