The Snow Queen's Shadow

remained inside the chapel, but it couldn’t stop his verbal assaults.
    “Without my mother to guide you, you’re lost. You allowed our son to be stolen from within your own home. You’ve failed, Your Highness . Both as a princess and as a mother.”
    Danielle was tempted to order him gagged. Instead, she turned to Father Isaac. “Whatever magic infects my husband, it came from Snow’s broken mirror. Can you use that same magic to find her?”
    Isaac shook his head. Neither he nor Trittibar had been able to explain Armand’s behavior, let alone find a way to counter it. Everyone else cut by Snow’s mirrors had been moved to the dungeons, by Danielle’s orders. Twenty-two people were now locked in the dark, cliff-side cells, many of them her friends. But it was the only way to keep them from harming anyone else.
    She had ordered Armand brought here to the chapel. The smell of incense was stifling. The grassy smoke was enchanted to dampen violence within the church. The air was warmer here, as though each of the candles mounted along the walls was giving off the heat of a much larger flame. But so far, the magic of the church hadn’t been strong enough to free her husband.
    Nobody had seen Snow or Jakob since they entered the candlemaker’s workshop, and thus far, no magic had been able to locate them. The gates were locked and guarded, and Danielle had ordered every available man and woman to search the palace, but given Snow’s power, she held little hope.
    “He’s not possessed,” said Trittibar.
    “Or if he is, it’s no form of possession that we’ve ever heard of.” Father Isaac tapped his crucifix against his chin.
    “It’s the mirror.” Talia strode into the church, side by side with a barefoot girl in a wool cloak. Danielle had never seen the girl before, but something in her walk was familiar. “With every cut, a tiny splinter breaks off and enters the blood. Snow took the worst of it when her mirror was destroyed, but Armand and the rest each suffer from a smaller portion of that same power.”
    “It’s how mirror magic works,” said Talia’s companion. “Even the smallest piece can channel the power of the rest.”
    “Who is this?” Danielle asked.
    “I was hoping Father Isaac could answer that.” Talia beckoned Danielle closer, away from Armand. In a low voice, she explained how she had discovered Gerta below, as well as the girl’s claim to be Snow White’s sister. For Gerta’s part, she appeared more interested in Armand than anything else.
    Danielle cut Talia off. “Gerta, if you know what happened to my husband, can you reverse it?”
    Gerta approached the prince. Danielle signaled with one hand for Talia to stay close, but Gerta merely studied Armand.
    “Keep away from me, you filthy witch,” snapped Armand.
    Danielle tightened. This wasn’t her husband. He would never speak so to anyone.
    Yet even as she defended him to herself, she wondered. Did some part of Armand believe those words? Was this cruelty merely an aspect of himself he kept hidden . . . an aspect that reminded her so much of her own stepmother?
    “Look at his hand.” Gerta pointed to a pair of dark bruises on the back of Armand’s hand. “You’ll find others where the sliver cut him from the inside as it moved through his body.”
    “Can it be removed?” asked Danielle.
    Gerta chewed her lower lip as she stared at Armand. She moved away from him, out of earshot, and gestured for the others to follow. “It would be dangerous. The splinter isn’t the problem. It’s what that splinter carries.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Have you never wondered where the mirror’s power came from?” Gerta looked from one face to the next. “All magic has a cost. Minor spells like your priest’s incense take most of their strength from the ingredients of the potion. He can prepare a new batch and feel no more fatigued than a man who spends an afternoon chopping firewood. But an artifact like our mother’s mirror, one with the ability to show anything its master commands? Not even Rose Curtana was powerful enough to create such a thing on her own.”
    “So where did it come from?” asked Danielle.
    “I believe our mother enslaved something within the mirror. Forced it to serve her.”
    Something which had broken free when the mirror shattered. “Snow never spoke of this,” said Danielle. “You told us Snow created you, formed you from her own thoughts and memories—”
    “She never spoke of it,”