“I’ll not hurt the girl. I only want to understand who she is.”
Gerta nodded, but stayed close to Talia. Talia’s nose wrinkled at the sharp scent of spellcasting.
Noita grunted in surprise. “Well that’s impressive.”
“What is?” demanded Talia.
Noita stepped back. “There are spells to split the soul, to send a part of yourself away. Dangerous, but useful for sending messages, digging out secrets, and so on. I’ve never heard of anyone casting such spells in quite this fashion, though.”
“Snow liked to bend the rules,” Talia said.
“Little Snow White,” Noita whispered. “Not so little anymore, I imagine. I’ve not seen her in a lifetime. I’ve often wondered what became of her after she murdered her mother.”
“Murdered?” Talia’s hand tightened around the worn leather grip of her sword. “Rose Curtana ordered her killed. She hunted Snow down, murdered the man Snow loved, and would have done the same to her.”
“Yet when they faced one another, Snow White was the one to walk away. How did she manage that? The girl had talent, but lacked discipline. Even with the best of luck, to defeat a witch like Rose. ..” Noita clucked her tongue.
“Snow beat her twice,” Talia said. “The first time, she killed Rose’s body. The second, Snow banished her spirit. Luck was not a factor.”
“Luck is always a factor.” Noita hunched her shoulders, her head poking forward like a turtle’s as she turned her attention to Talia. She poked her crutch at Talia’s cape. “What do you want from me?”
Talia swatted the crutch away.
“Please,” said Danielle. “We need your help.” Her words were slow, her tongue stumbling over the foreign words. She was far from fluent, but knew enough of the language to make herself understood.
“What do you know of Rose Curtana’s magic mirror?” asked Gerta.
“Ah.” Noita rested both hands on her crutch. Her body slumped, making her appear even older. “I should have known. You’d best come inside.”
Talia went in first. If this was a trap, she had the best chance of overpowering it.
Noita stopped to stomp her feet on a woven mat in the doorway. Her home was small and sparsely furnished, but had a cozy feel. Thick blue curtains covered the windows. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily, but without smoke. Split firewood lined the wall beside the hearth, making Talia wonder where it had come from. Noita certainly didn’t look strong enough to gather it herself. Dried flowers hung from the ceiling. A few of the withered, papery petals fell to the floor as Noita shut the door behind them.
With four people, there was barely room to stand. Noita made her way to a rocking chair beside the fireplace, the only chair in the cabin. A square wooden table sat against the wall, a bowl of ripe cherries near the edge. A scattering of pits and stems explained the dark red stains on Noita’s fingertips. “Please, help yourself.”
Gerta started toward the table, but Talia caught her arm. “Ripe fruit in the middle of winter?”
Noita smiled. “You thought witchcraft was only good for cursing beautiful maidens?” She popped a cherry into her mouth and spat the seed onto the table. “So Snow White took her mother’s mirror when she fled Allesandria. And now it’s turned on her, yes?”
“She’s taken my son,” said Danielle.
“Never trusted that mirror.” Noita pursed her lips. “Rose believed she could control it. She was arrogant. Convinced she was smarter and stronger than everyone else. Usually she was, but not this time. That mirror killed her, you know.”
“What do you mean?” asked Gerta.
“ ‘ Who’s the fairest of them all?’ A simple enough question, right?” Noita bit another cherry, and a rivulet of dark juice ran down her chin. She blotted it on her sleeve. “It’s a matter of opinion though, isn’t it? A farm boy looks at his first love and proclaims her the most beautiful woman in the world. An educated city man looks at her and sees a bumpkin, plain and dirty. Was young Snow White truly the fairest in all the land? Some might say so, but what does a mirror know of beauty? Why did it choose her, unless it knew what would come of that choice?”
Talia rested her hands on the edge of the table, which creaked from her weight. “We know about the demon.”
Noita’s voice was distant. “I warned Rose against it, but she wanted the power. We never should have brought that damned creature into this world. It’s broken free, hasn’t it?”
“It took Snow,” said Danielle.
“Then Snow White is gone.” Noita’s words, spoken so matter-of-factly, burrowed into Talia’s chest.
“You helped my mother imprison the demon,” Gerta said.
“Yes, though the price was a blot on both our souls.” She rolled another cherry between her fingers. “I’ve no doubt it remembers what I did.” She sighed and sank back in her chair. The creak of her rocking was the only sound, until Talia thought she might have fallen asleep.
“Noita?” Gerta asked.
“I warned her,” Noita said. “This was no lesser creature, but a true demon, all but immortal. Her mirror was a thing of genius, but it couldn’t endure forever. I looked to the future, and I saw what would happen when that mirror failed.”
“What did you see?” asked Talia.
“My death.” Noita licked her lips, and her gaze flicked to the back door of the cabin. “Fire and chaos. Death and madness, spreading throughout Allesandria. Even working together, Rose and I barely had the strength to trap the demon. Now that it’s free, with Ermillina’s power added to its own, I can’t-”
“She took my son,” Danielle interrupted. “You helped bring this creature into our world. You will help us to stop it.”
Noita started to answer, then sighed. “You’re right. I was part of the ritual. I share the responsibility.” She rose and moved to the rear of the cabin. Wood scraped against wood as she pulled open the back door, revealing a view so different Talia thought she might be looking through a magical portal.
A thin layer of snow crusted a grass path through a flower garden in full bloom. Delicate violets circled a stand of cherry trees. Lilies and snapdragons swayed together in the wind. Sunflowers as tall as Talia bordered the doorway like guardsmen. The smell of magic made her eyes water.
The plants seemed unaffected by the cold. Not a single leaf or petal marred the ground. The snow crunched beneath Talia’s feet as she followed Noita into the garden. Talia paused after a few steps, remembering what Gerta had said. How many bodies had fertilized these seeds?
“It’s too still.” Danielle was looking about. “There are no animals. No insects. It’s like a painting or a sculpture, an imitation of the real thing.”
“Imitation? Pah.” Noita limped to the center of the garden. “Flowers wither and die at the first touch of frost. Trees shed their leaves, sleeping through winter. This is better. My magic flows through this garden, giving it the strength to survive. This garden is as well-protected as the king’s palace.”
“They’re magical.” Gerta pressed thumb and forefinger to a sunflower’s stalk. “Each flower is enchanted, fed by the flesh and blood of the dead.”
“All plants feed on the dead, absorbing their strength. It’s the natural course of things.” Noita leaned against an apple tree and rubbed her leg. “You’ve seen the mirror, the vines worked into the platinum frame? That was my magic, strengthening the mirror’s hold. But the spells were Rose’s. Even then, I wasn’t strong enough to imprison this demon on my own.”
Talia’s eyes were still blurry, and her nose had begun to drip. The floral smell of magic was thick as smoke. It was as bad as being in Snow’s library when she was experimenting with new perfumes.
“You helped Rose,” Gerta protested, covering a yawn with one hand. “You have to know the spells she used. I could work with you to-”
“Your mother was always possessive of her secrets. You think she would share this kind of power, even with me?” Noita hobbled to a small stone bench, all but hidden by green, teacup-shaped flowers Talia didn’t recognize. “The fruits of this garden have shown me the future. I foresaw your visit weeks ago, all save your wolf-clad friend. And I’ve seen what happens if we try to fight this demon.”
Talia started forward, but something tugged her leg. Thorns tore her trousers as rose vines spiraled up her
