She peered more closely at her reflection, studying the strands of white scattered through her hair. Her mother’s hair had been the opposite, white with wisps of black.
“As I recall, you defeated your mother,” said Talia. “Twice. Anything she could accomplish—”
“I cheated.”
Talia shook her head. “When you’re fighting for your life, there’s no such thing as cheating.”
Snow smiled absently. “She tried to teach me when I was younger. With every spell we cast, I could feel her power creeping into my body. Looking back, I suspect she was hoping to prepare my body so she could claim it for herself when she grew too old. I didn’t understand at the time, though. All I knew was that I didn’t like the feel of her hands on mine as we practiced or the nightmares I had afterward. So I pretended to fail until she gave up on me.”
Finding new and inventive ways to fail had been the best part of those lessons. From a levitation spell that blasted the ashes from the hearth to that sleeping draft that loosened the bowels, it hadn’t been long before Snow’s mother proclaimed her magically worthless. Though it was what Snow had wanted, a part of her had mourned the end of their lessons. They were the only times her mother had paid her any attention.
“I would sneak in to read her books when she was away, but I was never as skilled as she was. I could never create a mirror this powerful.” She touched the gap in the front of her choker. “Without her mirror, I doubt I’d even be able to create these.”
“Would you like me to tell Danielle to look for a more powerful witch?”
“Sorceress.”
Snow glared at Talia, who matched the expression. Snow broke first, smiling despite her weariness. “Keep it up, and I’ll show you what powerful really means.”
“So what’s stopping you from finding Lirea?”
Snow turned back to the mirror. “Each time I get close, something pushes me away. I don’t know if it’s the magic of the knife, Lirea herself, or something else.”
Talia turned away at the sound of footsteps in the armory. Through the doorway, Snow saw Danielle standing in the armory, studying the ceiling.
Snow hopped down from the barrel, grimacing at the cramps in her legs as she joined Danielle. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve never realized how big the ocean really is,” said Danielle.
An intricate tile mosaic formed a map of Lorindar on the armory ceiling.Amethysts marked the borders of Fairytown near the center. A crystal palace sat on the northeast tip of the island. Slate tiles crept through lapis lazuli seas, each one a different ship from the Lorindar navy.
Weapons of every shape and size hung from wooden pegs on the walls, from the sharpened steel snowflakes Talia had made for Snow to the weighted training sticks Talia used for her workouts.
Danielle’s enchanted sword hung point-down by one of the lanterns, the glass blade reflecting the flicker of the lantern flame. The hilt was cast in the shape of a hazel tree, with wood inlaid in the glass for a better grip. Though it appeared fragile, Talia knew from experience that weapon was as deadly as anything in this room. The blade was smooth and perfect, clear as rainwater save for a handspan of glass above the cross guard. There the glass was thicker, frosted white where Snow’s magic had repaired it a year before.
Danielle bent down, retrieving a small tile that had fallen to the floor. Snow reached out to take it from her.
“The
Branwyn
.” Snow pressed the tile to the ceiling. Magic should have held it in place, showing them the ship’s location. Instead, the tile dropped to the ground.
“How?” Danielle asked, staring at the ship. “I thought the
Branwyn
was a warship.”
Talia watched the other tiles creep across the ceiling. “Merfolk tear a ship apart from beneath. By the time you realize they’re beneath you, your ship is already taking on water. We’re fortunate they didn’t sink the
Glass Slipper
.”
“You think Lirea did this?” Danielle asked.
“Maybe.” Snow slipped the tile into her pocket. “Even if she attacked the
Branwyn
, she’d be long gone by the time we reached the wreckage.”
“I don’t suppose you could craft a tile to find Lirea?” Talia asked.
Snow shook her head. “I spent months enchanting that map and sneaking down to the docks to plant a matching tile on every ship in the fleet.”
“Beatrice doesn’t have months,” said Danielle. “According to Father Isaac, her body won’t survive more than a week or two.”
“We can’t search an entire ocean in two weeks,” Talia protested.
“No.” Snow stepped to one side, making sure Danielle was between Talia and herself. “If we can’t find Lirea, maybe we should look for someone else who might be able to help us.”
“Her sister Lannadae.” Danielle studied the map again. “If Beatrice really was hiding her, she’d be close by. We could start by searching near the harbor, and then—”
Snow braced herself. “Or I could take you to her.”
“You know where Lannadae is?” Talia asked.
“Kind of.”
Danielle folded her arms. “What does ‘kind of’ mean?”
Snow stepped back, trying to guide the conversation back into the library and away from all of the weapons. “It means yes. Beatrice swore me to secrecy.”
Talia followed her. She was unarmed, but Snow had once seen Talia kill a troll with nothing more than tableware, so that wasn’t as comforting as it might have been. “How long have you known?”
“Since the fall. Beatrice needed me to set up a mirror so that we could check on Lannadae while she hibernated through the winter.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Danielle asked. She sounded angry too, but she was better at keeping that anger under control. Unlike Talia, who tended to wield her anger like a sledge hammer.
“Because I promised.” Snow retreated farther into the library, hurrying to one of the trunks against the wall. She opened the lid and pulled out a dark cloak. “According to Posannes, Lirea was sick. She slept for days at a time, refusing to move. When she woke, she spoke to herself, ignoring those around her. I guess she started to believe her sisters were conspiring against her. She attacked and killed her older sister.”
Talia followed, throwing words like knives. “And you didn’t think to warn us about a murderous mermaid?”
“Lirea wasn’t a killer.” Snow’s shoulders slumped. “I mean, she was, but not like that. She loved her father. She wept over her sister and begged for the king’s help. She tried to kill herself.”
“If she’d succeeded, Beatrice might not be dying in the chapel,” Talia said.
“Posannes sent Lannadae to the queen to keep her safe while he sought help for Lirea.” It had been Snow who recommended the healers of Najarin. Najarin was far enough south to be accessible during the tribe’s migration, and their healing skills were second to none. Several of Snow’s own tomes were hand-copied from Najarin.
Talia snorted. “A daughter who had already killed once.”
“Posannes was no fool,” said Snow. “He kept Lirea under guard. She was unarmed, escorted by other undine at all times. He should have been safe.” She stared at the cloak in her hands. “Posannes sent messengers throughout the winter, telling us Lirea was getting better.”
“Better enough to murder her father and take over the tribe.” Talia spun away. “So you knew Lannadae was here, and you’ve been wasting time with your mirror instead of taking us to see her?”
“I thought I could find Lirea myself.” Snow kept her head low, hair hiding her face. “Beatrice asked me not to tell.”
“Beatrice is dying!”
Each word was like a blow to the stomach. Snow blinked back tears, but before she could respond, Danielle asked, “Talia, would
you
break a vow to Beatrice?”
Talia hesitated.
“Posannes was king of his tribe,” Danielle continued. “I don’t know how it is among the undine, but I’ve watched human royalty. What would happen if the other tribes learned one daughter was mad, the other hidden away? Beatrice was protecting them. It’s what she does.”
“Here.” Snow flung the cloak at Talia before she could say anything more, then grabbed another for Danielle. “Do you want to yell at me some more, or do you want to find a mermaid?”
“Why can’t I do both?” muttered Talia.
The wool cloak smelled of dust and cedar, but Danielle pulled it over her shoulders. Behind her, Talia gathered knives and other weapons from the armory.
“Do you really need so many weapons?” Danielle asked. “Beatrice was helping Lannadae. She wouldn’t—”
“Who says they’re for Lannadae?” Talia tucked a small whip into her belt. “I wasn’t ready when Lirea attacked the ship. That won’t happen again.” She glanced at Snow and added, “Though I
might
have been prepared if someone had warned me about Lannadae.”
“The last messenger Posannes sent told us Lirea was doing better,” Snow said. “He said—”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Talia interrupted. “Where have you been hiding this mermaid?”
Snow ran her fingers over the books on the far wall, selecting a heavy leather-bound tome with
Dwarven Architecture: A History of Rock, Iron, and More Rocks
written on the spine in silver ink. She gave it a tug, and the bookshelves swiveled away from the wall with a painful screech.
“A secret passage behind the shelves?” Danielle asked. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”
“Sure, if that passage were the real one.” Snow grinned and moved to the other end of the wall. “Beatrice didn’t want the trap to be
too
difficult to find.”
Talia peered into the darkness. “What trap?”
“The sixth step triggers a counterweight that slams the shelves shut, locking them behind you. If you’re lucky, someone hears you screaming and comes to let you out.” Snow grabbed a second set of shelves on the other side of the wall and pulled. These slid open without a sound, revealing another staircase. “The architecture book also unlocks the real passageway over here.”
Talia grunted with reluctant approval. “How long has this passage been here?”
“You would have found it long ago if you ever bothered to pick up a book.” The mirrors on her choker glowed like tiny moons as she stepped into the darkness.
Talia looked at the trapped passage, then back at Snow, as if contemplating how hard it would be to toss Snow down those steps.
“If Beatrice wanted us to know about Lannadae, she would have told us,” Danielle whispered. “Don’t blame Snow for Beatrice’s secrecy.”
“She should have trusted us,” Talia snapped.
“How many people should she trust with
your
secrets? Or Snow’s?”
Talia glowered, then followed Snow down the steps.
Danielle didn’t bother to pull the shelves shut behind them. As far as she knew, only Beatrice and the three princesses even knew these rooms were here. She hurried after the others while she could still see the light from Snow’s choker.
The rock to her left was slick with algae and mildew. The wall to the right appeared to be made of loosely stacked stone, the kind of thing a child might build with rocks from the garden . . . if the child were playing with rocks the size of wagons. Sunlight peeked through the cracks, adding to Snow’s magical illumination.
“These stairs are over a century old,” Snow said. “This was the old seagate path. Beatrice hired dwarves from Fairytown to dig this passage after a rockslide buried the path twelve years ago.” She kicked the stones and grinned. “I know it looks like a loud sneeze will collapse the rocks, but the mortar the dwarves used to reinforce the rock is stronger than steel.”
“It’s filthy,” Danielle said.
“It was supposed to be an escape route,” Snow went on. “But the rockslide also opened up a few caves down at sea level. So when Lannadae asked for sanctuary—”
“Beatrice brought her here,” Danielle finished. Despite what she had said to Talia, a part of her was stung that Beatrice hadn’t told her. “Lannadae must have been terrified, to turn to humans for help.”
“She was frantic,” said Snow. “Beatrice tried to get her to talk, but that only upset her more. Undine have actually been known to die of terror. Whatever Lannadae saw, it frightened her near to death.”
Danielle stopped to peer through a gap in the rocks. The ocean was closer than she had expected. They were already more than halfway down the cliff.
“Beatrice thought Lannadae would be safe here,” said Snow.
“
Lannadae
was safe,” Talia snapped.
Normally, Snow would have either responded to Talia’s jabs in kind, or else she’d have stuck out her tongue and ended the whole thing. Not this time. Snow bowed her head, ostensibly watching the steps.
Danielle searched for words. A part of her simply wanted to shove Talia down the steps, hoping the fall would knock some sense into her. This wasn’t Snow’s fault any more than it was Talia’s. But Talia was the kind of person who liked to seize a problem by the throat and throttle it into submission, preferably in such a way that left her other troubles too frightened to bother her. With Lirea out of reach, that left only Snow and Danielle as targets for her anger.