The Snow Queen's Shadow

the daughter’s, sour and musty. The wig was the queen’s, and carried the scent of clover, most likely from her perfume.
    Talia bounded down the hall. The palace was obscenely oversized, with too many places to hide, too many fights spread over too much space. The courtyard at the center could have held all of Whiteshore Palace, with room to expand.
    She picked up the queen’s trail first. Her perfume lingered in the air, leading Talia around the western side of the palace. She was so intent upon the trail that she nearly collided with a group of Stormcrows in the midst of battle. Ice wasps buzzed angrily overhead as one of the king’s wizards spun to face Talia. His hand went to the athame at his waist, and he barked out a spell.
    Talia sneezed as the magic washed over her. The cape had been created to deflect spellcraft as effectively as the armor the Stormcrows wore. That armor was little use against an angry wolf. Talia’s paws struck his chest, and her weight knocked them both to the floor, sending several others sprawling. A quick nip to the wrist took care of the athame. She clamped her jaws into the metal rings of his armor and tossed him against the wall.
    Fire streaked overhead, destroying the wasps. Without a sound, half of the Stormcrows turned and fled. The others started to pursue, but King Laurence ordered them to wait. He pulled two injured men aside. “See to the prisoners, and make sure every fragment of glass on the floor is found and destroyed.”
    Talia was already running ahead toward double doors which had been battered open. The library beyond was two stories high, a round room with shelves that lined the walls and extended inward like the spokes of a wheel. Tall, narrow windows were spaced so that sunlight fell between the shelves, protecting their contents. Snow would have been in Heaven.
    “Are they here?” Danielle asked.
    Talia pressed her nose to the floor. The scent was stronger here. She padded into the library, then out again. Clover and sweat. Both of the children had been with the queen when she left the library.
    She raced away, following the trail to a staircase where a small mob was holding off a group of Stormcrows and soldiers. The mob fought in silence, armed mostly with knives and shovels, though she spied a few swords and spears. The guards were doing their best to avoid harming them.
    “She’s there? Beyond those steps?”
    Talia gave Danielle an exaggerated nod, and she relayed the message to the others.
    As Laurence and his Stormcrows advanced, Talia heard shouts from atop the stairs. The language was Morovan. She didn’t recognize the words. Something magical, judging from the burning scent and the way her hackles rose. Stone cracked, and the stairs began to crumble. Two of Laurence’s guards yanked him away.
    Most of Snow’s slaves jumped clear as the staircase collapsed, but others fell into the wreckage. There were no screams, no protests. Dust obscured the worst of the damage, but the smell of blood was strong.
    Talia growled, stepping onto the rubble of the bottom steps. The queen was close. She could climb this.
    “Don’t.” Laurence was already turning away. Pain clipped his words. “The magic that shattered the staircase is strong enough to pull the ceiling down upon anyone who tries to climb the wreckage.”
    “There’s a balcony outside,” Gerta said. “We can reach the queen through the courtyard.”
    Outside, the burnt-metal smell of lightning saturated the air. Across the courtyard, flame and smoke devoured the middle of the three-story wall. The roar of the fire drowned out all but the loudest shouts.
    Talia’s vision flashed white as lightning stabbed the middle of the flames. Thunder buffeted her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, seeing the imprint of the bolt on the inside of her lids.
    She scooted into the cover of the doorway and dug at the edge of the fur with her teeth. She ripped the pelt back, tugging and pulling until its magic released her and her body returned to its natural form.
    “Queen Odelia is a weather mage,” said Laurence. “I recognize her spellcraft. This is her doing.”
    Dust and smoke billowed through the courtyard as a section of the wall collapsed in flames. “A single weather mage couldn’t do this,” said Gerta.”
    Laurence flinched as another bolt struck the wall. “She leads them in their work.”
    Talia peeked out of the doorway. She could see the balcony to her left, guarded by a waist-high