The Snow Queen's Shadow

magic in these creatures is beyond anything I could do. Even beyond what Snow should be able to do.”
    “She’s sent her mirrors away before, animating them like insects of glass and wire,” Danielle protested.
    “Not like this. Not so many.” Gerta leaned down until her nose nearly touched the deck, and Danielle worried she would cut herself. “I touched the splinter she left in Armand. This latest attack is different.”
    Danielle’s stomach knotted. “Different how?”
    “She’s getting stronger.”

CHAPTER 9

    T HREE MORE DAYS AT SEA BROUGHT SNOW to the border between Hilad and the nation of Allesandria. From there, it was another half a day’s ride on horseback to reach the city of Melavin, capital of the Allesandrian province of Yador and home of Ollear Curtana, Lord Mage Protector of the city.
    One by one, she stripped away the outer protections of the antiquated tower where Ollear made his home. “The man is clever enough,” she said to the white songbird on her shoulder. “But he lacks depth. He layers his magic instead of interweaving the spells to strengthen them.”
    The bird gave a frightened chirp, but it was preferable to the whining. She had transformed Prince Jakob before leaving the ship. With his wing feathers trimmed, he had no means to escape. If he did run away, he would be quickly devoured by a wild animal, or simply crushed underfoot.
    Snow thought briefly of Talia and Danielle as she climbed the steps, absently sending her wasps ahead to deal with any servants or human guards. She closed her eyes, peering through those men on the Phillipa who had been touched by the demon’s magic. They were confined in darkness, but their presence told Snow the ship was still under sail, far from shore.
    So strange to be home once more, to hear the tongues of Allesandria instead of the grating cacophony of sounds that passed for language in Lorindar. Before the mirror’s destruction, Snow never would have dared return. Nor would she have taken Jakob, or attacked Talia and Danielle. She held no illusions about the way the power of the mirror had changed her. There was a presence within her, helping to strip away the lies of the world, as well as the lies she once told herself.
    Snow had been selfish, hiding away in Lorindar, squandering her magic on minor errands for the queen. She might as well have donned blinders, hiding from past and future, from those obligations that called to her from Allesandria.
    Obligations like Ollear Curtana.
    At the top of the stairs stood a construct of red stone, a magical guard carved in the likeness of the Lord Protector. It moved as smoothly as a living creature, drawing a stone sword as it advanced toward Snow.
    She smiled. The sliver lodged in her eye had already shown her the key to the statue’s false life. It had been born of mud blended with a rather complex potion, one brewed from the blood of the caster mixed with that of a loyal servant. She wondered idly if the servant had known the potion would require every last drop of his blood.
    Snow pulled her own knife. The steel was razor sharp; she barely felt the cut as she slid the edge over her left palm. She clenched her hand in a fist, then flicked the blood at the approaching statue.
    Given time, she could have wrested control of the statue, turning it against its creator. But there was too much to do. Instead, she simply willed the statue to return to its component elements.
    The statue swung its sword at Snow’s head. Snow raised an arm, and the blade splattered red mud over her arm and jacket. Its face contorted in a melted parody of confusion. Depending on how much of the caster’s own blood flowed through the mud, it should have just enough awareness to realize something was wrong.
    Fingers slid free of dripping hands. Snow sheathed her knife and smiled as any last resemblance to Ollear Curtana sloughed away. It gathered itself and lunged in one final attempt to smother her. Jakob squeaked and flapped his wings in alarm as Snow jumped back. The statue fell, splattering itself over the stairs.
    Even as she trod through the mud, it clung to her boots. Its loyalty was impressive. Ollear must have improved his formula.
    The wooden door atop the stairs was locked, but a quick spell swelled the wood until the planks split and fell away to reveal the grotesquely lavish bedroom of Lord Curtana.
    The walls within were enchanted to be clear as glass, giving him a full view of the surrounding land.