The Snow Queen's Shadow

poured from her hands. She stepped back, and the heat went with her. The lantern itself was cold, despite the flame flickering within. She lowered her hands toward the injured wasp on the deck, which soon dissolved into a tiny sparkling puddle.
    The next time one of the wasps swooped near, Gerta stretched out her hands as though trying to throw that heat. The wasp veered away, but didn’t melt. “They’re too fast. I can keep them back, but I can’t destroy them.”
    Another man tumbled out of the yards, crashing to the deck with a scream.
    “Can you protect another living thing from that heat?” Danielle asked.
    “I think so,” said Gerta.
    Danielle flung her blanket at a pair of wasps, which darted to the side to avoid it. She sent out a silent call as she gripped her sword with both hands, watching the wasps to see whether they would attack or seek another target.
    Another swing of Hephyra’s oar sent them away, toward the helmsman. The wasps had adopted a new tactic, joining together to attack in groups. Seven of them swarmed over the poor helmsman, stinging his hands and face. Other crewmen tried to help him, and the wasps flew up out of reach, gathering in a small cloud as they searched for another victim.
    A blur of black fur streaked up from belowdecks. Claws scratched the deck as Stub raced toward Danielle. His fur was raised, making him appear twice his usual size. He hissed at one of the wasps that came too close.
    “Cast your spell on him,” said Danielle, urging Stub to wait.
    Stub’s tail lashed from side to side, but he sat patiently while Gerta worked another spell. He even began to purr.
    “I think he likes the heat.” Gerta smiled as Stub rubbed his face against her hands. “It’s done.”
    “Go,” said Danielle.
    Stub tore away. His missing leg slowed him hardly at all as he crossed the deck and clawed his way onto one of the tarp-covered boats. From there, he jumped onto a crewman’s head. The man stumbled forward, hair smoking from the heat. Stub pounced. His distance was limited, but he managed to catch a wasp in his front paws. By the time he hit the ground, the wasp’s wings were gone, and he was already scrambling after another.
    Gerta winced. “Be careful!”
    “That cat is mad,” Hephyra said.
    Danielle wasn’t sure which definition she meant, but she agreed regardless. Even from here she could hear Stub hissing and growling as he chased the next of these flying creatures who had dared invade his ship. His pounce missed, but the heat was enough to start to melt the wings. The wasp’s flight wobbled, and another sailor smashed it with an iron pan.
    Down on the main deck, several of the men had gathered sailcloth to trap and crush the creatures. Stub continued his crazed hunt, bringing down the rest. He also set one of the sails on fire, but the crew managed to extinguish the flames before they spread too far.
    Danielle caught Gerta’s arm. “Are you hurt? Did they cut you?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    Danielle searched the exposed skin of Gerta’s neck and face, then inspected her own. Neither of them appeared to have been cut. She hurried toward Hephyra. “Make sure none of your men touch the remains with their bare hands. A single cut from the broken glass is enough to enchant them.”
    Hephyra nodded and called out, “Anyone bloodied by those damn things, fall in on the main deck. You’re relieved of duty until further notice. If you’re cut and try to hide it, I’ll feed you to the sharks myself.”
    “You’ll have to confine them.” The warning came from Talia, who was shaking as she pulled herself over the rail to collapse on the deck. Gerta grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around her.
    Danielle swallowed. “Jakob?”
    “I tried.” Talia slammed a fist into the rail, hard enough to crack the wood. “He’s alive and safe for the moment. He was chained below deck. I dealt with the guards, but Snow . . . she can see through their eyes. She was controlling them, like puppets.”
    Danielle sheathed her sword, forcing herself to accept the news. “Are you hurt?”
    “Frozen and mad as hell, but nothing worse than some cuts and bruises.”
    “Oh, damn.” Hephyra was staring at Stub. The cat favored his front left paw as he crossed the quarterdeck. Each step left a bloody print on the wood. “What will that curse do to him?”
    “It depends.” Gerta was sitting cross-legged on the deck, studying the crushed remains of a wasp. “The