The Snow Queen's Shadow

didn’t recognize me,” Danielle said. “My stepsisters glared at me all night long without ever realizing who I was. But Beatrice knew. She knew me the moment I set foot in the great hall. I nearly fled the palace.”
    “As I recall, you did flee,” said Armand.
    “Not until midnight.” Danielle gave her husband a mock scowl. “Beatrice smiled at me. A small kindness, but enough to tell me I was welcome.”
    Even at the end, when pain and weakness imprisoned Beatrice in her bed, she had always smiled with genuine love and affection when Danielle stopped by to visit, or when she brought Jakob to see his grandmother.
    Father Isaac straightened and clasped his hands. His fingers moved stiffly, the skin scarred and wrinkled from burns he had received months before. It was strange to see him in such formal black robes. His blood-red collar was starched as stiff as boiled leather. The ruby-capped crucifix around his neck shone like glass. If not for the disheveled curls of his beard and hair, and the compassion in his eyes, he would have appeared a different person altogether.
    He bent to address the king. “Chancellor Crombie can make the announcement, if you wish.”
    King Theodore shook his head. Standing silently in the corner behind him, Talia pursed her lips in distaste. She and Crombie had never gotten along.
    “It was her choice,” the king said softly. “Beatrice’s injury was the result of her efforts to help another in need. She never resented that choice.”
    Danielle would have to send word to the undine. Beatrice had saved the life of the mermaid queen Lannadae. Lannadae would want to know of Beatrice’s passing.
    Armand’s hand tightened around Danielle’s. “Where is your friend Snow? She deserves to be here as well.”
    Talia’s scowl deepened. “Snow had . . . other duties to attend to.”
    “What duties?” Danielle asked. The prisoners had been taken care of, and Snow had no further responsibilities. Even if she had, Snow would have ignored her duties without a second thought to be here with Beatrice.
    Distant crying from the hallway drew her attention toward the door.
    “Jakob,” said Danielle. The sound was coming closer.
    “He’s supposed to be napping.” Armand opened the door and peered into the hall. “Nicolette has him.”
    “He knows,” she said. Even as a baby, Jakob had shown signs of inheriting his grandmother’s visions, seeing things he couldn’t have possibly understood. He had cried the day the mermaid stabbed Beatrice, refusing to settle down until Danielle and Armand returned to the palace with the queen’s unconscious body.
    Servants had already begun to gather in the hallway, waiting for news. When Danielle stepped out to take her son from Nicolette, Jakob kicked and twisted in her arms, trying to peek into the room.
    “He kept asking about the queen.” Nicolette was making an obvious effort not to peer past Danielle. “When he wouldn’t go back down, I thought perhaps—”
    “It’s all right,” Danielle said. Jakob had awoken only a short time ago. His hair was a sweaty mess, and red lines from the wrinkles in his sheets marked the right side of his face.
    “I want Gramma,” Jakob said.
    “I know you do.” Danielle moved him to one side, resting his head on her shoulder.
    Nicolette shifted her feet. “Is there anything you need, Your Highness?”
    Danielle heard the unspoken question. Nicolette knew Jakob well enough to trust his gifts. It wasn’t Danielle’s place to announce the queen’s passing, so she let her tears speak for her. “No, thank you.”
    “God watch over her.” Nicolette bowed and turned away.
    Danielle carried Jakob into the room. He squirmed in Danielle’s arms until he faced the bed. “I want Gramma,” he said again.
    “So do I,” Danielle said softly. She started to say more, but a flash of light caught her eye. Something silver had fallen from the stained glass window on the far wall.
    Armand followed her gaze. He stepped past the bed and picked two small fragments of glass from the carpet.
    “A mirror,” Danielle said. The square pane had been the size of a small coin before it broke. This had to be one of Snow’s mirrors. She glanced at the window. A simple illusion would have concealed it as just another colored pane.
    “Snow?” Armand sucked air through clenched teeth and switched the mirrors to his other hand. He stuck his index finger in his mouth, but not before Danielle saw a thin line of red