The Snow Queen's Shadow

lilt in her words was Snow’s, teasing and taunting as she pointed her knife at the prince.
    Talia stepped sideways. “What did you do to Armand and the others?”
    “I helped them to see.”
    “To see what?”
    Snow’s smile raised the hair on Talia’s neck. “The world as it truly is.”
    “You sound like your mother.”
    Snow frowned, her confidence flickering so quickly Talia nearly missed it.
    “Is that it?” Talia pressed. “Your mother’s spirit—”
    “Is long gone.” Snow flicked her free hand, dismissing the idea. “What will you do now, Talia? If I were anyone else, you’d already have thrown that knife you palmed.”
    Talia grimaced and adjusted her grip on her knife.
    “Can you do it?” Snow asked. “Can you kill the woman you love?”
    Sarcasm dripped from her words, twisting in Talia’s chest. “That woman would never torment a child.”
    “If I’m not Snow White, then who am I? A fairy changeling, perhaps? Or a witch wearing your friend’s face?” Snow smiled. “I was the one who helped Queen Bea find you in that nasty cargo ship where you were hiding. I got drunk with you the night you first realized Bea was dying. You sang that ridiculous Arathean song about your old god, the one with the three extra heads.”
    Talia took another step, trying to get close enough to interpose herself between Snow and the prince. “Don’t worry, Jakob. You’ll be back with your mother soon.”
    Jakob shook his head.
    Snow’s smile returned. “He knows better, Talia.” She tilted her hand, digging the point of the glass shard into Jakob’s skin. “If you care to test your fairy reflexes against me, keep moving.” Moonlight quivered on the ceiling, reflected from her blade.
    Talia raised her hands. Whatever was influencing Snow, she wasn’t as confident as she sounded. Otherwise she would have already struck. “You can’t hide here forever.”
    “I don’t intend to. But before I depart, I had hoped to leave a gift for King Theodore, to thank him for his hospitality these past seven years. A single scratch, and his grief will end.”
    “You’re leaving?” The question slipped out before Talia could stop it.
    Snow leaned forward. “I could do the same for you, Talia. I know the pain of leaving your home, your lover, everything you’ve ever known. Tell me, does your heart still ache for the twin sons you’ve twice abandoned?”
    Whatever was manipulating or controlling her, this was still Snow. Only Snow knew Talia well enough to cut her so keenly. “I had no choice.”
    “Another lie.” Snow sighed and shook her head. Her weapon never left the prince’s throat. “There are always choices, my dear Talia. Nobody forced you to flee, to turn your back on your throne. You surrendered your birthright. How many generations did your family rule Arathea?”
    “Stop this,” Talia whispered.
    “They murdered your family and stole your throne, but to hear the stories of Sleeping Beauty, the man who raped you was a prince and hero. They raise your children on those same lies. And you . . . what lies help you to live with your choices, Talia? That your sons are better off without you? That your presence would only bring pain and chaos to Arathea? I could help you, Talia.”
    Talia lowered her knife. “Go ahead and try.”
    “Oh, stop it. We both know you love me too much to kill me.”
    “I do love her,” Talia admitted. She swallowed, trying to push down the knot in her throat. “And I know her well enough to know what she would want.”
    Talia slid forward, her front foot snapping into a kick that struck the outside of Snow’s wrist. The mirrored blade flew into the wall and shattered. “Jakob, run!”
    Snow gestured, and the fragments of her blade floated from the floor. Talia dropped flat, and broken glass shot over her head. She rolled and kicked the bench out from beneath Snow, who yelped as she fell.
    Jakob was young and unsteady, but he ran to the door and stretched to grab the handle. The door wouldn’t move. Snow’s magic kept it stuck tight.
    Talia bounced to her feet. She flipped her knife to throw, and then Frederic crashed into her from the side. The candlemaker was middle-aged and overweight, but he fought like a mother griffon protecting her nest. He wrapped his arms around Talia and slammed her against the wall. Candles tumbled from the shelves.
    Talia stomped her heel onto the arch of his foot, then brought both legs up and kicked off from the