The Snow Queen's Shadow

inert.” Laurence’s expression turned grim. “Until something jostled them free.”
    “The injured Stormcrow.” Snow could have planted the chain on him during the fight. All it would take was for a single splinter to fall free, at which point its magic would return. It would pull the cold and moisture from the air, using its ice body to climb up and infect the Stormcrow, who could then shake the rest loose.
    “Where are Selerin and the others?” Laurence demanded.
    “They left after the execution,” said one of the Stormcrows, an older woman with a collection of silver-and-gold rings squeezed onto the fingers of her left hand. A minor enchantment decorated her fingernails, which shone and changed color like the sunrise. An intricate tattoo of interlinked symbols circled her bald pate like a crown.
    Laurence’s scepter rang against the wall.
    “Spiderweb,” Gerta said. “A spider’s silk is strong enough to hold a shard of glass. Even I could command spiders to weave their webs into the links of the chain.”
    The older Stormcrow took the king’s arm. “Your Majesty, if there’s a chance this demon has infiltrated the palace, we must get you to safety.”
    The king’s response was far too coarse and common for royalty. He kept his scepter pressed to the wall. “There are reports of a commotion at the library.”
    “You underestimated her,” said Talia.
    He didn’t try to deny it. “Ermillina was never formally schooled.”
    “She taught herself,” corrected Gerta.
    To the Stormcrows, he said, “Half of you find Queen Odelia and our children. Once they’re safe, search the palace for Selerin and the rest. We may yet have time to stop this. Summon as many guards, magical and mundane, as you need. Princess Whiteshore, you and your friends will come with me.”
    Lightning struck outside as they were leaving, close enough to illuminate the staircase through the shuttered window. The thunder sounded like someone had fired a cannon inside the palace. As the sound faded, Talia heard a low humming in the distance. “Her wasps are here.”
    “Fire magic works well against them,” said Gerta.
    Laurence didn’t break stride. He spun his scepter, and a ball of blue fire appeared in the ring at the end. When the first wasp appeared at the base of the stairs, he jabbed his scepter, and the flame shot out like a smaller version of the dragon fire from the city walls. Both wasp and flame vanished in a hiss, and a tiny spark of glass dropped to the floor. One of the Stormcrows conjured a small ball of clay, which he used to retrieve and encase the glass.
    Danielle raised her voice as another lightning bolt struck outside. “Whatever Rose Curtana used to summon the demon is here. Are you sure there’s nothing that might have been overlooked?”
    “Most of her artifacts were destroyed. The rest were locked away, and have been thoroughly studied by myself and others.” Laurence grimaced. “With one significant exception, of course.”
    Talia pushed open the shutters of the closest window, trying to see what was happening outside. Across an open, circular courtyard, a tower of black smoke rose from the opposite side of the palace. “How good are your Stormcrows at summoning rain?”
    “Easier to steal the life of the fire itself.” Laurence gestured to one of his wizards, who stepped to the window and began working a spell.
    A young boy stumbled into the hall ahead of them. He wore what appeared to be a page’s uniform, dark blue and yellow, and slightly too short for his gangly limbs. His cheek bled from a single small cut.
    Talia moved to the side, one hand palming a dagger. “So much for getting the king to safety.”
    “Hello, Talia.” The page smiled. “Before you act, please keep in mind that I’m merely borrowing this body. Go ahead and destroy it, if you like. I’ve found plenty more.”
    The Stormcrows stepped forward to protect their king. The hair on Talia’s neck rose as they prepared their magic, but the boy didn’t seem to care.
    “What do you want, Ermillina?” asked Laurence.
    “To begin with, I’d like you to stop calling me that. Ermillina is the name my mother gave me. I prefer Snow.” The page strode toward them. “I trusted you. You knew what she was like, Cousin. You knew what she did to me. What she did to Roland. Yet you signed the order for my death all those years ago.”
    “I protected you as much as I could,” Laurence protested. “But when you killed