“You’ll get him back,” Gerta said, coming up beside her. “You’ll be singing him to sleep soon.”
Danielle nodded, but continued her song to the end, just as she had the prior night. Some part of her believed Jakob could hear her, that her voice might help him to feel less afraid.
Talia should have reached Snow’s ship by now. If anyone could sneak on board and find Jakob, it was her.
Gerta stared out at the water. She had left the deck only once since Talia’s departure, and that was to try to scry on Snow and the Lynn’s Luck. Her efforts had failed, leaving her with pain she described as icicles stabbing the base of her skull.
A speck of cold landed on the back of Danielle’s hand. A tiny snowflake melted on her skin. Clouds had drifted to block the moon. Scattered flakes of snow shone in the lamplight as they fell.
Hephyra climbed onto the forecastle, Stub curled in the crook of her arm. She scratched absently at the cat’s chin. “The snow could be a problem if it gets worse. Even light snowfall will slick the rigging and the yards.”
The Phillipa was already at half sail to make sure they didn’t overtake Snow White before Talia could complete her mission. If luck were with them, Talia would return with Jakob before Snow even realized he was gone. Danielle had ordered blankets brought to the deck, and the small oven in the galley had been lit. The galley wasn’t as comfortable as a cabin, but it would help to warm them both.
“Princess?” Gerta leaned out over the rail.
Danielle’s heart pounded. “You see something?”
“Not Talia. Something magic.”
Hephyra dropped Stub, who scampered away. “The girl’s right.” She pointed to a swirl of snow blowing toward the Phillipa. “It’s coming against the wind, from the direction of your friend.”
“A storm?” Danielle asked.
Gerta shook her head. “Captain, I think you should order your men down from the yards.”
Hephyra scowled and spun, barking orders to the crew.
Danielle took Gerta’s hand and pulled her to the ladder, sending her down to the main deck. Over the noise of the crew and the waves, Danielle began to hear a low humming. She leaned out, peering at the swirling snow to see a swarm of insectlike creatures flying purposefully toward them.
The first streak of white buzzed over the deck. An older sailor named Pemberton swore and slapped his neck. “Whatever they are, the buggers sting like wasps from hell.”
The insects were no bigger than bumblebees, and they blended into the snowfall. Danielle saw one man swinging wildly, only to curse when another of the creatures darted in to sting his hand. She drew her sword, but that wouldn’t be much use against such tiny foes.
“Get to the cabin,” Hephyra shouted.
The buzzing grew louder, and one of the creatures flew at Danielle’s face. She ducked, then ran to grab one of the blankets. When the thing returned, she flung the blanket into the air to intercept it. The creature thumped against the blanket, and a tiny needle of ice jabbed through the heavy wool. Danielle folded another layer of blanket over it, then smashed the flat of her blade onto the squirming lump. She was rewarded by a crunch like breaking glass. When she opened the blanket, bits of ice clung to the material.
“Don’t touch it,” Gerta warned. She pointed to the center of the ice. “That’s powdered glass from Snow’s mirror.”
“What are they?” Danielle yelled.
“Magical constructs of ice and glass.” Gerta ducked. “Like wasps or bees.”
Hephyra grabbed one of the oars from the boats, holding it like a quarterstaff. The oar’s blade would give her a better chance of hitting such small targets. Most of the crew were doing the same with whatever weapons they could find, but the wasps were too quick. Danielle grabbed Gerta and began pulling her back toward the cabins.
“How many?” Hephyra asked.
“Thirty? Maybe more.” Gerta twisted away and crawled over to study another of the wasps that had fallen to Hephyra’s oar.
“It’s still moving,” Danielle warned. One wing was gone, but the other flapped furiously against the deck. The body was made of ice, dusted with mirrored glass that tapered to a sliver at the end. “Can you stop them?”
Gerta shook her head. “If they’d hold still, I could probably melt them.”
Hephyra stepped closer, using her oar to knock another wasp away. “And maybe if you ask nicely, they’ll stop buzzing about and line up to be smashed.”
“Get me that lantern,” Gerta shouted, pointing to the mast.
Hephyra crossed the deck, ducking another wasp. The lantern hung from a wooden hook that grew from the mast like a thick branch. It turned supple as Hephyra approached, bending to drop the lantern into Hephyra’s hand.
Gerta stretched both hands around the lantern. Her fingers brushed the metal. “I cast a spell to give the lamp’s heat to Talia. I can use that heat against the wasps, but it means removing the spell from Talia. If she’s in the water-”
“Do it,” said Danielle. The wasps meant Snow knew about them. If Talia had been captured, she had no need of heat. If not… Gerta’s spell would do Talia little good if the Phillipa ’s crew fell under Snow’s control.
Gerta’s brow furrowed as she mumbled her spell. Heat poured from her hands. She stepped back, and the heat went with her. The lantern itself was cold, despite the flame flickering within. She lowered her hands toward the injured wasp on the deck, which soon dissolved into a tiny sparkling puddle.
The next time one of the wasps swooped near, Gerta stretched out her hands as though trying to throw that heat. The wasp veered away, but didn’t melt. “They’re too fast. I can keep them back, but I can’t destroy them.”
Another man tumbled out of the yards, crashing to the deck with a scream.
“Can you protect another living thing from that heat?” Danielle asked.
“I think so,” said Gerta.
Danielle flung her blanket at a pair of wasps, which darted to the side to avoid it. She sent out a silent call as she gripped her sword with both hands, watching the wasps to see whether they would attack or seek another target.
Another swing of Hephyra’s oar sent them away, toward the helmsman. The wasps had adopted a new tactic, joining together to attack in groups. Seven of them swarmed over the poor helmsman, stinging his hands and face. Other crewmen tried to help him, and the wasps flew up out of reach, gathering in a small cloud as they searched for another victim.
A blur of black fur streaked up from belowdecks. Claws scratched the deck as Stub raced toward Danielle. His fur was raised, making him appear twice his usual size. He hissed at one of the wasps that came too close.
“Cast your spell on him,” said Danielle, urging Stub to wait.
Stub’s tail lashed from side to side, but he sat patiently while Gerta worked another spell. He even began to purr.
“I think he likes the heat.” Gerta smiled as Stub rubbed his face against her hands. “It’s done.”
“Go,” said Danielle.
Stub tore away. His missing leg slowed him hardly at all as he crossed the deck and clawed his way onto one of the tarp-covered boats. From there, he jumped onto a crewman’s head. The man stumbled forward, hair smoking from the heat. Stub pounced. His distance was limited, but he managed to catch a wasp in his front paws. By the time he hit the ground, the wasp’s wings were gone, and he was already scrambling after another.
Gerta winced. “Be careful!”
“That cat is mad,” Hephyra said.
Danielle wasn’t sure which definition she meant, but she agreed regardless. Even from here she could hear Stub hissing and growling as he chased the next of these flying creatures who had dared invade his ship. His pounce missed, but the heat was enough to start to melt the wings. The wasp’s flight wobbled, and another sailor smashed it with an iron pan.
