The Snow Queen's Shadow

dispatching intruders.
    “Only one way to find out.” Laugher followed her from the metal cone. “We meant what we said. Everyone is welcome to enter. Whether you’ll be allowed to leave is another matter entirely.”

CHAPTER 18

    T HE STAIRS WERE WORN, BUT DRY. Roots poked through the walls and ceiling of the tunnel like white threads. Danielle crawled on hands and knees, her shoulders brushing the dirt and boards to either side.
    “You think they’ll help us?” Gerta asked from up ahead. She had conjured a small light from the setting sun, capturing a soft orange flame which scurried ahead like a flickering mouse.
    “The Duchess wants Jakob.” Speaking the words gave strength to the despair Danielle had worked to hold at bay. She clenched her throat, swallowing the fear until she regained her self-control. “Until we save him, she gets nothing.”
    Sweat trickled past one eyebrow, down the side of her cheek. She paused to loosen her jacket. Only a short distance into the tunnel, and already it felt like summer. The dry air smelled faintly of smoke and oil.
    The darkling pulled the door shut behind them. For the moment, Danielle was more worried about the darkling than the Duchess. This one was older than the ones she had fought before, and seemed less . . . wild . So far it had obeyed the Duchess’ commands to protect Danielle and her companions, but that didn’t make her any less uncomfortable with it creeping silently along behind her.
    The tunnel opened into a small, square room, reinforced by thick square-cut beams and wooden boards. On the opposite wall, an open doorway led into darkness. Gerta clucked her tongue, and her light scurried closer to one of the beams. She examined a series of simple pictures carved into the wood. “This was used as a supply room. Food, water, new tools.”
    “And now it’s the entryway into a damned fairy lair,” said Talia.
    A handful of gravel flew out of the darkness. Most struck Talia, though some caught Danielle in the face and shoulder. Talia jumped to the side of the doorway, knife in hand.
    “Mind your tongue, human. There’s no cursing here.” A pulsing orange glow approached from beyond the doorway. “Or have humans given up any pretense of civility when entering another’s home?”
    “Our apologies,” said Danielle, cutting off Talia’s response. “You understand our language?”
    “Aye. Veleris feels it’s important for us to learn the surface tongues.” The glow was getting closer. It reminded Danielle a little of a blacksmith’s forge. “I’ll be taking you to our queens myself. But first, cease that magical light. Are you trying to draw the fairy hunters upon our heads?”
    Gerta ended her spell. “I didn’t know—”
    “No magic! Nothing that could be detected by the surface.”
    “What about your glamour on the doorway?” Gerta demanded.
    “Fairy magic is natural. Subtle. Easier to hide. Even so, we use only what’s necessary to survive.”
    Danielle’s eyes had adjusted enough for her to make out the outline of their guide and his mount. She stepped back as they emerged into the already cramped room. She reached for her missing sword without thinking. “Is that a dragon?”
    “They’re the best thing for riding about the mines.” The dragon was as long as a horse from head to tail, but its body was much lower to the ground. The scales were a dirty red, almost brown. The orange glow Danielle had seen came from the dragon’s mouth, brightening with each breath. The wings were little more than stubs growing behind the forelegs, which made Danielle suspect this was a young dragon.
    The rider was a dingy man, no higher than Danielle’s knee. He wore a round helmet and heavy, oft-mended clothes so filthy she couldn’t begin to guess the original color.
    “He’s beautiful.” Gerta crouched in front of the dragon, holding out one hand. “What’s his name?”
    “Careful.” The man tugged a silver rope which was looped around the dragon’s neck. “I’ve raised Koren here from an egg, but he’ll still take your fingers if you startle him.”
    “And who are you?” asked Talia.
    He raised a small shovel and rang the blade against his helmet in salute. “You can call me Tommy.”
    Danielle tilted her head. “Your name is Tommy?”
    “No. I said you can call me Tommy.” He tucked his shovel into an oversized leather sheath he wore over one shoulder. “Even if I trusted you with my name, you humans can never tell