Gerta held two more bottles by the necks in her right hand. “Princess Whiteshore commands it.”
“Did she command this, too?” Talia asked, lifting the wine.
Gerta spun away. Considering Gerta had burned through the door to find her, Talia figured it best to see what Danielle wanted. She grabbed her zaraq whip and followed Gerta out into the hallway.
Gerta led her to the northern drawing room, a smaller chamber often used for entertaining royal guests. The walls were a garish green, covered in a textured paper imported from Morova. A fire burned in the hearth, countering the chill from the windows. Danielle sat with Trittibar and Ambassador Febblekeck at the tile-topped table in the center of the room.
Danielle rose, but before she could speak, Gerta set both of her bottles on the table and jabbed a hand at the fairies. “Out. Both of you.”
Trittibar’s brows shot up. Febblekeck flew from his chair, shedding glowing dust onto the carpet. “You forget your place, human.”
Danielle watched Gerta as though trying to read her intention. “Can this wait, Gerta?”
“No.” Gerta folded her arms and waited.
“Very well,” said Danielle. “Trittibar, Febblekeck, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Trittibar rose and bowed.
Febblekeck reached out to pluck a grape from the platter of bread and fruit at the center of the table. “ I mind. This girl is-”
“She is a member of my household,” Danielle said softly. “And a friend.”
“She’s not even real,” Febblekeck protested. “Any fairy can smell the magic on her. She’s but a changeling, cobbled together by human magic, her soul a torn and crudely-stitched quilt of clumsiness and haste.”
Gerta flinched. Talia twirled the wine bottle in her hand. Given the pixie’s size, the bottle should be heavy enough to smash him from the air.
Danielle stood, smiling a too-sweet smile. “You should leave now,” she said softly.
“I am here as a representative of the king of Fairytown,” Febblekeck countered.
Danielle’s smile vanished. “And I would be most grieved to have to tell your king that his ambassador was snatched and devoured by a hungry owl.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I ask the animals to leave our guests alone, but I can’t be blamed if one refuses to listen.” Danielle stepped around the table. “Owls are so quiet in flight. The prey hears nothing, no warning at all before the talons pierce the body.”
Febblekeck brightened. “You can’t-”
“We can continue our conversation later, Princess Whiteshore.” Trittibar snatched Febblekeck’s arm, tugging him away before he could say anything further.
Danielle pursed her lips and sat back in her chair. “I sometimes suspect Febblekeck was appointed to this position because his king wanted an excuse to kick him out of Fairytown.” She rubbed her temples with both hands. “He and Trittibar have been helping me to understand the Duchess’ bargain. She agreed to raise him as her son, and to protect him from harm, but fairies view ‘harm’ differently than-”
“Your bargain called on you to give Jakob to the Duchess six months after your return to Lorindar,” Gerta interrupted.
Danielle frowned, looking more confused than annoyed. “That’s correct, and therein lies the problem.”
“It’s a problem that will still be waiting in the morning. You’ve more than five months to find a solution.” Gerta wrapped a hand around one of the wine bottles and whispered a spell. The wax seal softened, and she plucked it neatly from the neck. The cork followed, jumping into her palm.
“You interrupted my meeting for wine?” Danielle asked. Talia could hear the warning in her words, similar to the tone she used with Jakob.
“Yes.” Gerta glanced at Talia. “Sit down.”
Talia shook her head. “You told me Danielle ordered me here.”
“I lied.” Gerta gestured at a chair, which swiveled on one leg as if to invite Talia to sit. Gerta nibbled her lower lip, her confidence vanishing. “I have the memories Snow gave me, but they’re a puzzle with only half of the pieces. Mostly I remember a childhood that never happened. I… I was hoping you could tell me about her.”
She took a drink, then offered the bottle to Talia. When Talia didn’t move, Gerta sighed and slid it to Danielle.
“Snow giggled too much,” Gerta said. “She always thought me too dour, and sought to cheer me up. When we studied magic, Snow would read the incantations in the voices of various Lords. It made our mother so angry… There was one noble, I forget her name, who spoke with a horrible lisp. Snow was mimicking her while casting a spell which was supposed to purify a goblet of poisoned wine. Snow slurred the words so badly the wine exploded from the cup. Everyone it splashed developed the most awful rash.”
“I see.” Danielle held up the bottle. “Should I be worried about this?”
Gerta grabbed the second bottle, using magic to open this one as well. “Not about poison or magic, no. The taste, on the other hand.. . Arathean wine is far too sour for my liking. Much like some Aratheans I know.”
Talia ignored the barb. She set her own bottle on the table and backed away. “I have duties to attend to. If you need anything-”
“One of your duties is to guard the princess.” Danielle took a drink from the bottle. “With this much wine, I’ll likely need your protection by the time this night is done. Join us, Talia.”
Talia didn’t move. “Is that an order?”
“Does it have to be?”
Reluctantly, Talia took the chair beside Gerta. Gerta slid her a bottle hard enough to make it tip. Talia caught it instinctively.
“What would you like to know, Gerta?” asked Danielle.
“Everything.” Gerta drank several swallows of wine, then made a face. “I have my memories, and the things I’ve learned going through her library, but I want to know her. Who she was in your eyes.”
Danielle pursed her lips. “With the exception of Armand and his parents, Snow was the first person to make me feel truly welcome here.” Danielle stared at one of the windows. “I first learned who she was in the library, shortly after Armand was kidnapped.”
Talia forced herself to listen as Danielle described their first journey together into Fairytown, to rescue Armand from the Duchess and Danielle’s stepsisters.
Gerta spoke next, describing a time she and Snow had snuck through the palace to visit their father. Snow had rarely spoken of him, save to describe him as crippled by her mother’s magic, little more than a puppet of skin and bone. Gerta and Snow had brought him wildflowers, which they wove into his hair as he slept. “He looked so pale, almost colorless.”
“Like Beatrice,” Talia said, the words slipping out.
Gerta glanced up, then nodded. “Snow gave me very few memories of Beatrice, but yes.”
Talia raised her bottle, drinking deeply and concentrating only on the smooth, smoky taste of the wine. She returned the bottle to the table and used her thumbnail to pick at a bit of wax that clung to the side of the mouth. She had spent far more time with Snow than either of them, but a part of her wanted to keep those memories, to protect them and lock them away.
Talia glanced at Gerta’s eye patch. Talia had lost so much, but Gerta… she had never even known her sister. Not really.
Talia stared at her reflection in the glass. “Snow once made it rain urine in Prince Armand’s bedroom.”
Both Danielle and Gerta gaped. Gerta’s eye was wide, and Danielle’s mouth opened and shut several times before she finally asked, “How did this come about?”
Talia shrugged one shoulder. “It was two months after I arrived in Lorindar. I don’t know what Armand said, but Snow took it personally. Beatrice realized something was wrong when Snow kept sneaking off to get more to drink.”
“More to… ah,” Gerta said, nodding. “Sympathetic magic. She would have needed to cast that spell from a privy. How long did she manage to keep it going?”
“More than an hour.” Talia took another drink, remembering Beatrice’s expression as she ordered Snow to clean up the mess, all the while fighting to keep from laughing. “The smell lingered for a month.”
