The Snow Queen's Shadow

Queen Curtana would wear to guard herself from attack.” He glanced at the other Stormcrows. “The rest were stung. We’ve been forced to kill three of our own people today.” He touched his hand to his heart and whispered three names, presumably those of the fallen Stormcrows.
    “I’m sorry.” Gerta repeated the names. “The palace is north of here. Where are you taking us?”
    “There’s a quicker way, and safer, if any of Snow White’s slaves have infiltrated the city and are watching.” He pointed to a stone building at the end of a street lined with inns and bars.
    “An icehouse?” Gerta asked. The building was squat, not even a full story high. “I don’t understand.”
    “Could this be a trick?” Danielle asked softly. Talia wasn’t sure whether the Stormcrows spoke the tongue of Lorindar, but neither of them reacted.
    “A little late for that question.” Talia shook her head. “Nothing’s certain, but if they wanted us dead or captured, there are easier ways to go about it.”
    Vachel unlocked the icehouse door. It was twice as thick as a normal door. Fog spilled into the street, and Talia glimpsed large blocks of ice stacked against the walls inside. Straw lined the stone walls and carpeted the floor, save for a wooden trapdoor in the center of the room.
    “Watch the steps,” Forssel said as he led them inside and hauled open the trapdoor, revealing a narrow staircase.
    “You’re not worried about people discovering your secret way into the palace?” asked Talia.
    Forssel grinned. “Anyone watching saw a group of workers coming in for ice. A charm of suggestion, not true illusion. It dampens curiosity, and as they wander away, their minds will convince them they saw us emerge hauling a block back to a nearby tavern.”
    Candlelight flickered to life from Forssel’s fingertips. Vachel hauled the door shut. There were no windows, and the single flame didn’t provide much light. Talia stepped carefully, testing each step as she descended after Forssel. Inside, the air stank of magic.
    Downstairs was even colder. She pulled her cape tight, but couldn’t block the icy air that snuck through the layers to chill her skin. The floor was crushed gravel. Larger blocks of ice lined three walls. A variety of hammers and chisels hung from the fourth.
    “In summer, this room is filled and sealed off,” said Forssel. “But for winter, the people move smaller blocks upstairs for easier access. Runoff from the streets, magically purified, feeds into this room through the pipes in the corners.”
    “I see no passageway or tunnel.” Talia kept her hands in her sleeves.
    “It’s here.” Gerta squinted at the ice. “The enchantment isn’t in the ice, but in the pipes.”
    Forssel frowned. “That’s right.” He stepped past Gerta and pressed his hands to the ice, which began to melt at an unnatural rate. Water poured down, splashing and disappearing into the gravel. When he stepped back, the outline of a doorway remained, perfectly carved in the ice. “If you’re truly who you say, this will take you to the palace.”
    “What if we’re not?” Talia asked.
    Vachel chuckled. “In that case, it will take you . . . somewhere else.” He and Forssel backed toward the stairs, not so subtly blocking the only other way out.
    Danielle straightened. “Thank you.” She touched a hand to the ice. Cold water dripped down her palm and trickled along her wrist.
    Talia caught her shoulder. “I’m going first.”
    “I thought you said this wasn’t a trap,” Danielle said.
    “I did.” Talia touched the doorway. The door opened inward, revealing a dark tunnel through the ice. “I’ve been wrong before.”
    Talia stepped into the darkness. She had taken only two steps when a voice spoke from behind.
    “You know, you’re much prettier when you smile.”
    Talia spun. The ice room had vanished, replaced by old ruins and desert sand. Her friends were gone, as were the Stormcrows. In Forssel’s place stood Snow White, dressed in a yellow Kha’iida robe, her headscarf hanging loose from her neck.
    “Don’t get me wrong,” Snow continued. “The smoldering look works for you, but I’ve always preferred your laughter.”
    Talia’s sword shook in her hand. Snow’s face showed no sign of scars or cuts. Her hair was pure black, as it had been when they first met. Her eyes were wide, full of amusement, but it was the untainted joy in her laughter that convinced Talia to lower her weapon.