“Princess Whiteshore sent word to watch for you and the boy.” Francis’ men spread out behind him. “Set Prince Jakob down and surrender.”
“What gives you the right to command me?” Snow stepped forward, crushing the glass beneath her heel. She lifted her boot from the pieces and blew softly.
She could feel Francis’ magic circling her, trying to contain her without hurting the prince. She shredded his spell as easily as cobwebs.
Frost spread over the glass shards on the road. Tiny frozen spikes grew from each splinter, spreading into paper-thin panes of ice.
From behind the Harbormaster, a grunting bull of a man lunged forward to grab Snow. Francis shouted an order, but it was too late. The man’s fingers dug into her forearm, trying futilely to pry her grip from the prince. Snow put her other hand over his and squeezed until she felt the bones snap.
Snow pointed to the broken shards. Wings of ice twitched, then fluttered to life. Insects of snow and glass, no larger than wasps, swarmed toward the Harbormaster.
He cast another spell, knocking two of the wasps back. One of his men destroyed a third, but there were too many. Soon the rest were crawling over their bodies, jabbing stingers of mirrored glass into their skin.
Snow glanced around. She had created close to twenty of the wasps, more than she needed to deal with the Harbormaster and his men. There was no point in letting the others go to waste. She called the rest, allowing them to settle into her hair, a living crown of ice and glass. “Come, Jakob. Let’s find ourselves a ship. I’ve so much to do.”
Danielle maintained her composure until she reached the room she shared with Armand. She shut and locked the door behind her, then pulled her sword from its sheath. She collapsed against the door, pressing her forehead to the flat of the blade. The glass sword was liquid smooth, save for a handspan near the hilt where it had once broken. Snow’s magic had fixed the sword, but that part of the blade was frosted.
Jakob was gone. Armand, too, for all intents, unless Isaac or Gerta could free him of Snow’s spell. Snow, Beatrice… it was too much.
Snow had taken her son.
No matter how hard she tried to focus, thoughts of Jakob returned. His confusion yesterday as Danielle pulled him from his father. His laughter the week before at the performance of a tumbler who juggled as many as seven eggs at a time, only to break them all in the end. His small hands digging into her nightgown in the mornings, demanding she wake up.
She forced herself to rise. Clutching the sword in both hands, she made her way to the edge of the bed, thinking back to the first time she had felt Jakob moving within her womb. Danielle had been a prisoner of her stepsisters at the time, trapped deep in the Duchess’ domain below Fairytown. She remembered the cold touch of fairy hands, the tightening of her skin as magic aged her flesh and the unborn child within.
The Duchess was no fairy noble. Centuries ago, she had been a lowly servant, a spy who betrayed the king and queen of Fairytown. On the way to her execution, she had tricked her freedom from the king, bargaining for the right to see one final sunrise. When he agreed, the Duchess fled to the chasm at the center of Fairytown, hiding deep underground where sunlight never penetrated. There she had built her own small kingdom, forever protected from fairy interference by her bargain. Until she looked upon another sunrise, the rulers of Fairytown wouldn’t touch her.
“When you wish to contact me, simply call three times.” Danielle could remember every detail of the Duchess’ face as she spoke those words. What had the fairy known, to create such certainty that Danielle would one day come begging for aid? Had she foreseen this day, or had her words been mere boast?
Danielle wrapped one hand around the hilt, the other around the blade. The sword had never once cut her skin. Her mother’s magic saw to that. A part of her wished it would, if only so the physical pain would distract her from the emptiness inside.
Danielle licked her lips. She had learned enough from Snow to know it wasn’t the name alone that worked fairy magic, but the intention. The need of the caller.
Thinking of Jakob, she whispered “Duchess” three times.
The carpet sagged at a spot between the bed and the door, as though the tile floor beneath had been cut away. Individual fibers unraveled, sinking into a hole illuminated by sickly blue light.
Danielle stood, watching the hole expand until it was the size of a serving platter. The surface shimmered like water, blue lights dancing along the ripples.
“Princess Whiteshore. How lovely to hear your voice once again.” The Duchess’ face was little more than a shadow on the water, but Danielle’s mind painted the details. Short silken hair the color of bleached cotton. Slender ears, the pointed tips rising just past the top of the head. Overlarge eyes and narrow lips that seemed ever quirked in a predator’s smile. “I wasn’t expecting your call. Particularly so soon after you sent your ambassador to demand my arrest.”
Danielle wasn’t at all surprised to learn the Duchess had ears in the fairy courts. The spying and intrigue of Fairytown made human politics look like the simple squabbling of children.
Danielle did her best to remain calm. The Duchess had tricked a fairy king. She would do the same to Danielle in a heartbeat. “That was months ago, and I made no demands. I merely asked Fairytown to investigate your role in the death of my stepsister Charlotte.”
“I was saddened to hear of her passing. The girl should have stayed in my care. She was unprepared for the harsh realities of the world. But she wished to leave, and as a kindness, I chose to grant her freedom. Had I known-”
“And the gown you provided her?” Danielle asked. “Enchanted to carry a fire sprite. I watched as it burned her to death.”
“The fire sprite was to provide warmth only,” the Duchess said. “As you know, my domain is a cold place, without the luxuries enjoyed by those on the surface. I’ve no idea why the sprite turned upon her. Your stepsister was not the most pleasant woman. Perhaps she said something-”
“I’ve no time for pretty lies.” Danielle moved to stand at the edge of the pit. “You sheltered my stepsisters when they kidnapped my husband. You conspired with the Lady of the Red Hood against my friend, murdering Charlotte in the process. Had I any proof you did these things knowingly, I would find a way to see you punished.”
“But you have no such proof.” The Duchess’ tone never lost its smothering politeness.
“No.” Danielle fought the urge to drive her sword into that shadowed face. “I wish to speak to you about another matter. My son Jakob has been taken from me.”
“If you intend to accuse me, you’re wasting your time, Your Highness. Believe it or not, my people aren’t responsible for every child you humans misplace.”
“I know who took him. I want you to help me find him.”
The Duchess was slow to respond, as if savoring Danielle’s words. “You must be devastated. Please accept my sympathy to you and your family.”
“You told me once that I would need your help. Can you find my son?”
The Duchess’ smile grew. “You would bargain for my aid?”
Danielle could hear Talia’s warning as clearly as if she were in the room. Never bargain with fairies. Not if you wish to keep your future, your joy, your very soul. But what if the bargain was the only way to regain those things? “Yes.”
The ripples cleared, bringing the Duchess’ pale face into focus. She wore a circlet of platinum, inlaid with flakes of jade. A high, silver collar followed the contours of her cheekbones. “I may be able to help you track him. Your son is marked, both by the human magic in his father’s bloodline, and by fairy magic.”