“From the moment Snow emerged from her library, she carried a demon within her,” said Talia. “Why did nobody detect it? What good are these damned wards and spells if-?”
“Snow created many of those wards,” Danielle pointed out. “She avoided Father Isaac, and Tymalous tells me she never came to see him, either.” She looked to Gerta. “Can you use the glass in Armand’s blood to find Snow?”
“I already asked,” said Talia.
Gerta turned away. “Snow always imagined me as the weaker sister. Someone she could impress with her own spells. I am as she made me. If I use magic to touch the splinter, it’s likely the demon could take me as well.”
Despair swelled in Danielle’s chest. She would continue the search until every corner of the palace had been checked, but she knew deep down it was futile. Snow was gone, and she had taken Jakob with her.
Laughter pulled her attention to her husband. There was nothing pleasant to the sound, only mockery, like a bullying child. “You’ve lost them both. How long before you accept your failure, Cinderwench?”
To her surprise, Armand’s use of her old nickname helped her regain control. This sort of hate was familiar, easier to brush aside. She strode toward him. “The man I love would never call me by that name.”
“The man you love?” He laughed again. “They say love is blind, but in truth love is blinding. You’ve no more love for me than I had for you. You looked upon me and saw salvation. I was nothing but a way to escape your stepmother and stepsisters.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Just as I looked upon you and saw… simplicity. A child with no hidden schemes, a girl trained to obedience. A bride fit for a prince. Love is the lie we feed ourselves when we’re too weak to accept the truth. You warmed my bed and kept to your place.”
Gerta stared. “You’re married to him?”
“Yes.”
“He’s an ass.”
Trittibar coughed and covered his mouth.
Danielle clasped Gerta’s shoulders. “You claim Snow created you.”
“That’s right.”
“When Armand was stolen from me, Snow used my unborn son to find him. As Jakob grew into his own person, that connection faded. But you were ripped from Snow’s mind less than a day ago. Can you use that bond to find her?”
Gerta shook her head. “Not without exposing myself to her power.”
“Damn,” Danielle whispered. That left but one other option, one she had prayed she could avoid. “Thank you for your help. Please stay with Trittibar and Father Isaac. There has to be a way to remove the glass from Armand. Work with them to find it.”
“There might be, but-”
“Try.” Danielle started toward the doors. “I’ll be in my chambers. Send a page to fetch me if anything changes.”
“What will you be doing?” asked Talia.
“Finding my son.”
CHAPTER 6
Snow paused when she reached Fisherman’s Canal, the narrow waterway that ran along the base of the white cliffs. The foulness of fish and old bait permeated the air. Half-finished sailing ships huddled like rotting corpses in the shipyard to her right. To her left, buildings crowded the rocky land closest to the cliff. Most were stilted on columns of wood or stone, protecting them from waves and high tides. Taverns and inns competed with warehouses and shops. All were built with steep, reinforced roofs to protect them from falling snow and ice in winter.
A single rockslide would crush half the harbor. Snow squinted, searching for the spells that protected the buildings below. Her vision was sharper than before. With only the moon and stars, she could still discern details that only a few days ago would have eluded her in full sunlight: a nest tucked into a crag of rock, a slender sapling clinging desperately to the cliffside close to the top. The magic shone as if aflame: strong charms, but someday their power would decay. All magic failed eventually.
Even in winter, hours before dawn, the harbor was a place of chaos. One overweight captain in a garish green jacket shouted orders to the men unloading his ship. Farther along, a younger man in the uniform of the Harbormaster’s Office guided a fishing vessel into the docks. Beggars crawled like lice along the edge of the canal, competing with the gulls to collect fish guts to sell for bait. The cries of the gulls sounded like the mocking laughter of children.
“Look at them,” Snow said. “Cawing and racing about as though their lives were in any way meaningful.”
Jakob didn’t answer. He walked beside her like a pet, his hand clamped in her own. He hadn’t tried to run away, not since she threatened to fling him into the ocean. The crying was another matter. Her magic had silenced his whimpering, but couldn’t penetrate his mind. He had cried throughout the carriage ride to the harbor. Dried tears and snot covered his face.
She scooped Jakob into one arm, carrying him in a way that might from a distance be mistaken as caring. His body was taut, and he wouldn’t look her in the eyes.
“You could burn it all, and who would notice?” Snow asked. “Ten years from now, their names would be forgotten. Twenty years, and the fire would be but a story told by old men. Even you, little prince. Your death will be nothing but a note in a forgotten history of the royal family.”
Jakob whimpered.
“I was to be queen,” she continued, looking out over the water. “My mother wouldn’t live forever. All I had to do was survive, and one day I would have earned my reward. When I met Roland, I dreamed I would make him king, that we would rule Allesandria together. But the world cares nothing for dreams.”
As she walked, she marveled at her strength. The mirror’s magic had infused her blood. She hardly noticed Jakob’s weight. She could toss him into the sea or dash him against the rocks without straining, and spellcasting came as easily as breathing. She briefly considered ripping the cliffside apart, merely because she could. Perhaps this was Beatrice’s final gift, giving Snow the power to take back what was hers.
“All my life, my mother’s magic dwarfed mine. It was only anger and desperation that allowed me to defeat her, and even in defeat she destroyed me. I should have been queen, but her poison had already spread through Allesandria, corrupting those in power. They were afraid to confront my mother, but once she was dead, they turned their loathing and their fear upon me.”
She adjusted the strap of her sack. The rope dug into her shoulder, but the pain didn’t bother her. “The world is broken, Prince Jakob. A place of chaos and madness that can never truly be controlled. Your parents believe they will one day rule Lorindar, but they cannot control her people any more than a beggar can command those gulls.”
She smiled and stretched a hand toward the birds. With barely a thought, one of the gulls cried out and fell, bouncing off the roof of a warehouse with a wet thump.
She slowed, glancing at the road behind her. It would be a shame to abandon her library at the palace, but Lorindar was a small, insignificant nation. And what need did she have for old books and scrolls? Though there was something… a spell she had been working on? Something to do with Beatrice’s body. Her experiments to save Beatrice had been a failure. The potions and charms she had created over the years were of no use anymore.
The memory slipped away, retreating down into the darkness.
The presence of magic pulled her attention back to the docks. As a child, she had always been able to sense her mother’s spells. Now the magic hummed through her body, a silent tune that rose and fell with her surroundings. This latest chorus of spellcasting originated from the four people hurrying up the road toward her. The Harbormaster himself led the group, if Snow’s eyes didn’t lie.
“Master Francis.” Snow should have foreseen this. The Harbormaster was responsible for all incoming and outgoing ships, which meant checking those vessels for illegal enchantments. A simple illusion had allowed her to stride out of the palace and steal a carriage, but Francis would be able to see through such tricks. She slid the sack from her shoulder, dropping it to the road. A single fragment of glass, no larger than the cap of an acorn, spilled out. “Is there a problem?”