The Snow Queen's Shadow

Gerta agreed, “but she used to lie awake at night, wondering about the price of Mother’s magic. As she grew, she learned not to question such things. Much of our mother’s magic was best left to the shadows. Snow was a child. Had she allowed herself to dwell on the torments our mother inflicted, the rituals she wove, it would have consumed her. So Snow locked those fears away, burying them so deep they couldn’t reach her even in dreams.”
    No wonder Snow had imagined a companion for herself. For a child to face such nightmares alone . . . the thought made Danielle wish she could somehow go back and whisk Snow away when she was first born. “And then yesterday, the mirror broke.”
    “Releasing what?” Isaac asked.
    “We once encountered a mermaid who trapped human souls and used them as slaves,” said Danielle. “Could the mirror have done something similar?”
    “No human soul would be powerful enough.” Gerta shook her head. “If any were so strong, my mother never would have been able to enslave them.”
    “A demon.” It was Father Isaac who spoke. “No minor fiend, but a true denizen of Hell.”
    “Snow didn’t know,” Gerta said quickly. “Even had she tried to discover the truth, it was impossible to be certain, short of shattering the mirror.” She gestured toward Armand. “She never intended any of this.”
    Talia whispered a curse in Arathean. “Snow gathered up every last speck of glass. If each splinter is a reflection of the demon’s power, she could infect half of Lorindar.”
    Danielle was watching Father Isaac. “Is Gerta telling the truth?”
    “I believe so,” said Isaac. “Strange . . . in some respects, she appears a construct, yet her flesh is human.”
    Gerta reached out and tugged the curls of his beard, earning a yelp. “Is that real enough for you, Father?”
    “From the moment Snow emerged from her library, she carried a demon within her,” said Talia. “Why did nobody detect it? What good are these damned wards and spells if—?”
    “Snow created many of those wards,” Danielle pointed out. “She avoided Father Isaac, and Tymalous tells me she never came to see him, either.” She looked to Gerta. “Can you use the glass in Armand’s blood to find Snow?”
    “I already asked,” said Talia.
    Gerta turned away. “Snow always imagined me as the weaker sister. Someone she could impress with her own spells. I am as she made me. If I use magic to touch the splinter, it’s likely the demon could take me as well.”
    Despair swelled in Danielle’s chest. She would continue the search until every corner of the palace had been checked, but she knew deep down it was futile. Snow was gone, and she had taken Jakob with her.
    Laughter pulled her attention to her husband. There was nothing pleasant to the sound, only mockery, like a bullying child. “You’ve lost them both. How long before you accept your failure, Cinderwench?”
    To her surprise, Armand’s use of her old nickname helped her regain control. This sort of hate was familiar, easier to brush aside. She strode toward him. “The man I love would never call me by that name.”
    “The man you love?” He laughed again. “They say love is blind, but in truth love is blinding. You’ve no more love for me than I had for you. You looked upon me and saw salvation. I was nothing but a way to escape your stepmother and stepsisters.”
    “You know that’s not true.”
    “Just as I looked upon you and saw . . . simplicity. A child with no hidden schemes, a girl trained to obedience. A bride fit for a prince. Love is the lie we feed ourselves when we’re too weak to accept the truth. You warmed my bed and kept to your place.”
    Gerta stared. “You’re married to him ?”
    “Yes.”
    “He’s an ass.”
    Trittibar coughed and covered his mouth.
    Danielle clasped Gerta’s shoulders. “You claim Snow created you.”
    “That’s right.”
    “When Armand was stolen from me, Snow used my unborn son to find him. As Jakob grew into his own person, that connection faded. But you were ripped from Snow’s mind less than a day ago. Can you use that bond to find her?”
    Gerta shook her head. “Not without exposing myself to her power.”
    “Damn,” Danielle whispered. That left but one other option, one she had prayed she could avoid. “Thank you for your help. Please stay with Trittibar and Father Isaac. There has to be a way to remove the glass from Armand. Work with them to find it.”
    “There