The Snow Queen's Shadow

. . bring me a pearl.”
    “Why a pearl?” Danielle repeated.
    “Pearls are formed to protect the oyster from irritation,” Gerta said. “If I can do the same to this splinter—”
    “Sympathetic magic.” Father Isaac moved toward the prince. “Yes. We can use the pearl as a focus to encase the glass.”
    “Assuming we can trust her,” Talia said sharply. “We don’t know what she is, and now you mean to let her work her magic on the prince?”
    Gerta jerked back, her brow furrowed with unguarded hurt. “Have I lied to you, Talia? Tried to trick you in any way?” She turned to Danielle. “I don’t know how Snow created me, or why, but she’s my sister. She wouldn’t want this. Let me help you.”
    Not for the first time, Danielle wished Beatrice were here. The queen had always been able to see through deception. She would have known whether Gerta could be trusted, whether they should allow her to help Armand. “How long would it take?”
    “Armand is asleep. We’ve isolated the splinter. I could begin now.” Gerta shrugged. “Bring someone new, and it will take longer.”
    “Snow’s magic has already robbed Lorindar of its prince. And every hour gives Snow more time to escape with my son.” She whispered a quick prayer to her mother, and to Beatrice. “Father Isaac will help you.”
    Isaac stepped sideways, away from the altar. “Perhaps we should consult King Theodore first, just to be certain—”
    “No,” whispered Danielle. “He’s already lost his wife. Would you burden him with this choice?” Or with the consequences, should things go badly? From Isaac’s expression, he heard her unspoken words. “Do what you can for Armand.”

CHAPTER 7

    G ERTA APPEARED OBLIVIOUS to everyone’s attention as she pored over Armand’s body, her face so close to his skin that the hairs on his chest brushed her nose. If Danielle was wrong about her, it would be so easy for her to kill Armand.
    Danielle banished that thought, as she had so many others. Father Isaac stood beside Gerta, his expression intent as he split his attention between Gerta and the prince. Talia paced behind the altar, her face a mask of distrust.
    What was Gerta? Could Snow really have created a true person, an individual with her own mind and soul? Snow had never hinted that she could cast such magic. Or was Gerta’s life mere imitation, perhaps a fragment of Snow herself, broken from the whole?
    Danielle could see glimpses of Snow in Gerta. The way she whispered absently to herself as she traced runes onto Armand’s arm, the set of her lips when she concentrated, her obvious excitement over the workings of magic.
    How many years had Snow spent imagining a sister, sculpting every last detail with her mind, trying to ease her loneliness? Gerta wasn’t quite as attractive as Snow, which made sense. Snow’s vanity wouldn’t allow her to imagine a more beautiful sister. Gerta was taller, with a more prominent nose. Her teeth were perfect, but slightly too large. Her eyes were a muddy brown, reminding Danielle not of Snow herself, but of Snow’s mother.
    If they were unable to stop whatever demon had taken Snow, Gerta might be the closest Danielle ever got to seeing her friend again.
    Gerta’s scream filled the chapel. Talia lunged to grab her arm, but Gerta shook her away.
    “Let her work,” Isaac shouted. Danielle had never heard him yell before.
    “What’s happening?” Danielle asked.
    “Give me the pearl.” Gerta reached blindly toward the silver communion cup that held a single perfect pearl. Talia shoved it into her hand. Gerta began to chant in another tongue. Sweat beaded her nose and forehead. Danielle could hear the pearl rolling about, though Gerta held the cup perfectly still.
    “The demon,” said Isaac. “As Gerta’s magic touches the mirror, she also touches Snow.” He took his crucifix in both hands and began to pray. Gray smoke billowed from the thuribles, the incense strong enough to make Danielle’s eyes water. His voice grew deeper, filling the church. “Depart. You are not welcome here.”
    “She sees me.” Gerta was trembling.
    Danielle stepped closer, putting her hand over Gerta’s on the cup. “Focus on the mirror. You can do this.”
    Gerta grabbed a small jar of oil and poured a circle onto Armand’s chest around the freshest of the bruises. The skin turned pink where the oil touched. Gerta pressed her fingers into the center of the ring.
    Danielle could see a tiny lump