The Snow Queen's Shadow

everything in our power to find your son. But ultimately it is Ermillina and the demon who are responsible for her fate.
    Talia spat on the floor, close to the king’s polished boots. “The magic of Allesandria is known throughout the world. Surely your mighty Stormcrows can handle a single demon.
    Another Stormcrow entered, taking a position to the right of the king and whispering something too low to hear. Gerta swallowed and moved closer to Danielle.
    “Give us time,” Danielle pressed. “The key to binding this demon is somewhere in the palace. Give us a week to search. A day, even, to—”
    Laurence clutched the scepter in both hands. “The order has already been given. Your friend is dead.”
    Danielle stared, not comprehending. Snow couldn’t be dead. The king’s words echoed in her mind.
    “The scepter,” whispered Gerta. “When you struck the wall that last time. That’s when you gave the order.”
    Talia lunged at the king. The closer Stormcrow raised her hands, but Talia was faster. Her fist twisted into the Stormcrow’s mail, and she tossed the other woman as though she were a toy. Gerta jumped back as the Stormcrow crashed through the table. The second Stormcrow waved his hands, and the chairs shot at Talia, shattering against her back. It stunned her for a moment, but she shook off the debris and leaped.
    “Talia, stop!” Danielle rushed toward her, knowing she wasn’t fast enough. Talia was impossibly swift even without the red cape. With the cape’s magic, she could kill the king before anyone else had time to draw weapons.
    Laurence raised his scepter. Talia caught it in one hand and drew back her fist.
    Lightning crackled along the scepter’s length. Laurence shifted his grip, twisting it free, then slamming the butt into the side of Talia’s head. Blue sparks popped from the scepter as he twirled it about, aiming it at Talia.
    Talia’s hand was red and blistered. She touched her temple as she rose. With her other hand, she pulled the cape around her body.
    Danielle stepped between them, facing Talia. “My son is out there. Jakob is still alive.” He had to be. “That skin lets you track like a wolf. Between that and Laurence’s magic, we might yet be able to find him. Would you let Jakob die, too?”
    At first, Talia didn’t move. Only the rapid flare of her nostrils showed she was still breathing. Her pupils were tiny black beads, looking past Danielle to the king. A group of Stormcrows had gathered behind him in the hallway, but he raised a hand, keeping them back.
    “I need you,” Danielle said.
    Talia shuddered once, violently. Blood and tears dripped down her cheek, and her hands trembled.
    Danielle grabbed her shoulder. Talia’s other arm jerked up to strike Danielle’s hand away. She hesitated, then brought her hand down on Danielle’s. Her grip threatened to break bones.
    “Are you sure, Cousin?” Gerta asked softly.
    Laurence frowned. “Sure of what?”
    “That Snow White is truly dead?”
    Talia’s shoulders jerked at Gerta’s words. Danielle held tight, though she wasn’t strong enough to stop Talia should she choose to do something impulsive. But for the moment, the fight appeared to have drained from her.
    “We’re connected, yet I felt nothing,” Gerta continued.
    “You believe we executed an imposter.” He pursed his lips. “Others have tried to infiltrate the palace, sending spies under cover of illusion or shapeshifting into innocuous forms. One of the early kings of Allesandria was killed when his brother secretly replaced six grapes at dinner with tiny elementals, transformed by magic.”
    “Why send an imposter?” asked one of the Stormcrows. “Knowing she would be bound, unable to perform magic or act against us.”
    “Perhaps so we would call off our hunt,” said Laurence. “But our protections are built for such trickery. I’m familiar with the shapeshifting magic her mother used. Such spells would not fool us. The Stormcrows can peer beneath the flesh of their prisoner to see the very core of the person.”
    “A core tainted by Snow’s mirrors,” Danielle said. Hope and despair threatened to rip her in two. “Mirrors which carry a fragment of Snow herself into everyone she infects.”
    “My mother underestimated her, too,” said Gerta. “Snow and I are magically bound. I doubt I could even survive with her dead.”
    Laurence’s eyes narrowed. “Does that mean—”
    “No,” Gerta said quickly. “I’m but a small