Snow smiled. “I like my sins.”
The priest looked to weigh twice as much as Snow. Had he stood his ground, she would have been hard pressed to move him. But Snow had spent years working with Talia, and had picked up a number of tricks. She lowered her shoulders and ran, showing no sign of slowing. The priest stepped back. That move cost him his balance, and moments later he was tumbling into the slush on the side of the road, earning shouts from his followers and cheers from the other churches.
“What was that?” Danielle asked.
“Nothing. Can you get word to the guards at the southern gate?”
“It will take time, but I’ll see what I can do.”
A splash of red drew her attention to a snowbank on the left. She plucked her steel flake from the snow where Hansel had discarded it. Droplets of blood marked his path toward the gate. Snow ran around a mule- drawn wagon, then stopped to search the intersection in front of the gate. The main avenue was broad enough for three carriages to pass side by side. Two other roads branched away from the gate, parallel to the wall. There were too many people and too much space.
The stone wall wasn’t as impressive as the one surrounding the palace, but Snow doubted Hansel could have scaled it with his wounded leg. The barred iron gate was wide open, though. Danielle’s message must not have gotten through. Snow approached the closer of the two guards on duty. “Have you seen a witchhunter pass through here? Shaggy and bleeding, carrying an enchanted bow?”
He stared. “Are you all right, miss?”
“I’ve had better days.” Snow sighed and turned away, just as Talia came running up the far street.
“Don’t tell me you lost him.”
Despite her annoyance, Snow grinned at the sight of poor Talia, bundled tight against the winter cold. Talia had grown up in the deserts of Arathea, and viewed snow as a punishment delivered personally by vengeful gods. She wore a thick wool cloak, and a knitted scarf covered her mouth and nose. Only her hands were bare, so she could better grip the various weapons hidden about her person. At the moment, she had one hand tucked beneath her arm for warmth while the other held her hood low to protect her face from the cold.
“I haven’t lost anyone.” Snow crouched to scoop a handful of slush, crushing it into a ball. She tilted her steel snowflake, allowing a single drop of blood to fall onto the slush. Tucking the weapon away, she whispered a spell to harden the ball to ice. “I just thought it was more sporting to give him a head start.”
Her head pounded as she cast another spell. She blinked back tears, turning it into a wink when she caught Talia watching her. She switched the ice to her other hand and hurled it into the air. At its peak, the ice jerked to the east as if caught by the wind, though the air was still. It plummeted back to earth, the blood magically guiding its flight more than a block past the gate. The crowd at the gate hid Hansel from view, but Snow heard the impact, followed by loud swearing.
More shouts followed. By the time Snow and Talia made their way past the crowd into an alley between a butcher’s shop and a tavern, Hansel was ready. He aimed his bow at Snow, the string drawn back. “Where is my sister?”
“I don’t know,” Snow said. “Let’s go ask the nice guards at the gate if they’ve seen her.”
The bow didn’t waver. Snow glanced at Talia.
“She fell off a roof and broke her leg.” Talia stepped sideways, away from Snow. “I tied her up at the hitching post a few blocks over. Danielle said she’d send men to collect her.”
“Wait, you just left her there?” Snow asked.
“I had to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed,” Talia shot back.
Snow jabbed a finger at Hansel. “I found him all by myself, thank you.”
“And now he’s got a bow aimed at you!”
Snow shrugged. “We can’t all throw people off of rooftops.”
“I didn’t throw her!”
A brown shape swooped from the wall. A small hawk flew through Hansel’s drawn bow, its claws neatly plucking the arrow from the string. He jumped back, releasing the string so it snapped against his arm.
Snow smiled. Her choker flared to life.
Hansel turned to run, but his feet slipped on the magically-slick ice. He rolled over and pulled a knife from his boot.
Snow gestured, and an icicle snapped from the eaves overhead. It shot down as if launched by a crossbow, piercing his arm. He screamed, and the knife dropped to the road.
Talia had her own knives out now. She kept one raised as she approached, as if daring Hansel to try something.
Snow leaned against the wall, closing her eyes against the pain throbbing beneath her skull. The worst should pass soon, but it would be at least a day before she fully recovered. She wiped her face. “I assume the hawk was your doing?”
“Oh, good.” The cheerfulness in Danielle’s voice carried quite well through Snow’s choker. “I was afraid he wouldn’t reach you in time.”
Talia sheathed one of her knives and tossed the bow to Snow. Hansel grabbed her wrist, but Talia took his fingers in her hand and twisted, flipping him onto his stomach and eliciting another shout of pain. By the time the guards arrived, she had taken an array of blades from Hansel’s person.
Snow plucked one of the mirrors from her choker and tossed it to the closest guard. “Talk to your princess. She’ll explain.”
She waited long enough to make sure the guards had everything under control, then grabbed Talia’s hand and tugged her away. “Come on. The bakery should be open soon. I want cookies.”
“What about your mirror?” Talia asked.
“It will find its way home eventually.”
Talia shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You enjoyed this.”
“Didn’t you?” Snow asked, giving her a sidelong glance. Talia had tugged her scarf down beneath her chin. Wisps of black hair framed a stern face, but amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. Snow grinned. “It reminds me of the time Queen Bea sent us out to find that frog who was impersonating a prince to harass young maidens.”
“I still say you should have let me cook him,” said Talia. “Fresh frog legs, soaked in butter and sprinkled with nadif spice-”
“I’ll take the cookies, thanks.” Snow made a face. “You keep your frog.”
“Snow? Talia?” The urgency in Danielle’s tone caused Snow’s stomach to tighten.
“What’s wrong?” Snow yanked the largest mirror from her choker, rubbing the glass clean with her sleeve. It was hard to make out much detail in the tiny glass, but Danielle looked like she was fighting tears.
“It’s Beatrice.”
Snow had foreseen this day a year and a half before, when a mermaid stabbed Queen Beatrice in the chest with a cursed blade. Snow had done everything she could, magically stitching the wound and using every potion and poultice she could think of to help the queen heal. Her efforts had given the queen an extra eighteen months of life, but even magic had limits, and death could only be denied for so long.
“We’re here,” Snow whispered as they reached the palace, counting on her mirrors to send her voice to Danielle. “Is Bea-”
“She’s still alive,” Danielle said.
Snow allowed herself one moment of relief before turning to Talia. “There’s something I need to take care of.”
Talia whirled, her eyes wide. Snow had seen Talia angry before, but rarely had that anger been directed at her. Not like this. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”
“No, it can’t.” Snow stepped away.
“Beatrice is dying.” Talia’s rage slowly shifted to disbelief. “What could possibly be more important?”
Snow shook her head. “Tell Beatrice…” Bea would have understood, but not Talia. No words could make this right with her, and the longer Snow stood here, the less time she would have.
Talia grabbed Snow’s arm. “Beatrice took you in. She gave you a home after you fled Allesandria. She cared for you like her own daughter.”
