“I’ll talk to Armand tonight,” Danielle said, smiling. “I have to know what he said to earn such retribution.”
“The best part came later.” Talia pushed her chair back, staring at the window. “Beatrice demanded to know what good could come of such pranks. Snow looked her in the eye and said, ‘I wanted the prince to know what it felt like to be a peon.’ ”
There was a pause, and then the groans came in unison. Danielle grabbed a piece of bread from the platter and threw it at Talia. “That’s terrible!”
Talia caught the bread and took a bite. “I told Beatrice that whatever punishment she assigned, it should be doubled for that pun.”
Her throat was tight. Even that single bite of bread hurt to swallow. She washed it down with more wine as Danielle started talking about a time Snow had flirted her way onto a ship suspected to be carrying smuggled silks. Talia had been along for that mission, and remembered Snow’s unabashed enjoyment.
That was who Snow had been. That was who Talia wanted to remember. Even now, memories of Snow bleeding onto the ice threatened to suffocate her. She pushed them back, clinging to the laughter. The joy in Snow’s eyes.
Danielle was watching her as she talked. Talia scowled. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”
Danielle shrugged. “Gerta suggested the wine. I merely gave her my blessing to drag you here by whatever means necessary. After two hours with Trittibar and Febblekeck, I needed the break.”
Talia wadded a bit of bread into a ball and flicked it across the table, bouncing it off the center of Danielle’s forehead. Danielle stuck out her tongue. Gerta simply laughed.
Danielle grabbed an apple from the platter. “Tell her how Snow and Beatrice found you.”
Talia groaned. “It’s embarrassing.”
Danielle grinned. “I know.”
Talia threw more bread, but she told Gerta how she had hidden away in a ship, hoping to slip unnoticed into Lorindar. How Beatrice and Snow had discovered her… and how Snow had used magic to knock her senseless.
At some point during the evening, servants quietly carried in a dinner of roast pork and mushrooms, and a pot of chilled strawberry soup. Talia hadn’t had much of an appetite since returning to Lorindar, but tonight she found herself devouring the meal.
Many of the stories she shared made her smile, remembering arguments and antics she hadn’t thought about for years. Others brought tears. It was hours after sunset when Danielle finally stood to excuse herself. Her face was red, her hair loose and disheveled. She hugged Talia from behind. “Make sure Gerta doesn’t drink too much.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Talia.
“Thank you.” Danielle kissed her on the cheek, then moved to embrace Gerta as well.
Once she had gone, Talia turned to Gerta. “You owe me a door.”
“Your door is fine. Mostly.” Gerta stifled a yawn.
Talia stood. “I can clean up here, if you need to sleep.”
“Sit down.” Gerta smiled. “We’ve almost an entire bottle left, and I haven’t even told you about the time Snow snuck out to hunt a unicorn.”
“A unicorn?” Talia raised her eyebrows. “How did she plan to hold one?”
“I don’t know that you could call it a ‘plan,’ really…”
Talia sank back into her chair to watch Gerta talk. In her mind, she heard Snow teasing her, asking again why she hadn’t yet kissed Gerta.
Hush, Talia said silently. There would be time to sort such things out later. For now, this was what she needed. A friend who could help Talia to remember and celebrate Snow’s life. It didn’t change the pain in Talia’s chest whenever she thought of her death, but it provided a buffer, something to help her through that pain.
The sun had risen when Talia finally escorted Gerta back to her room, one hand on her elbow to keep her steady. Gerta stopped in the doorway, scowling at Talia with mock anger. “Have you made your choice yet?”
Talia blinked. “My choice?”
“Whether or not you’re going to leave.” Gerta kept her voice steady, but Talia could see the way her face tightened as she braced herself.
Oh. Talia stepped back. “Someone has to keep an eye on you and Danielle. Snow would never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”
Relief suffused Gerta’s face. She jumped forward, throwing her arms around Talia’s neck and kissing her cheek. “Good.”
She slipped into her room and shut her door, leaving Talia alone in the hallway. Talia touched her cheek with her fingertips. With her other hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled a single sharpened steel snowflake from its flat leather sheath. She turned it until she could see her reflection.
“Yes,” she said softly, remembering her final exchange with Snow. “I’ve made my choice.”
CHAPTER 25
Six months from the day Danielle brought Jakob home, she strode through the courtyard toward the chapel. Talia and Gerta were already waiting outside the door. Talia was armed, a curved sword on one hip, her zaraq whip on the other. Heaven knew what else was tucked away beneath her red cape.
Danielle wore only her glass sword and the dagger Talia had given her years ago.
“You think those will be necessary?” Gerta asked.
“Always,” Talia said before Danielle could respond.
The others waited inside. Father Isaac stood before the altar, looking troubled. Trittibar sat beside Armand, who rose to greet Danielle with a quick kiss.
“Jakob?” she asked.
“In his room. Isaac has warded it to the best of his ability. He’s as safe there as he is anywhere in Lorindar.”
“Thank you.” Armand’s words weren’t as reassuring as she might have hoped. “I’m sorry.”
He waved the apology away. He had been angry when he first heard of Danielle’s bargain, and angrier still when he learned of the Duchess’ warning from years before, which Danielle had kept from him. They had fought three times, each worse than the last. Looking back, Danielle realized now how much of that anger had come from grief and fear.
Today she fought to keep that fear under control. If this didn’t work-She kissed him, perhaps a bit harder than was considered proper, but Danielle didn’t particularly care. She held him close, allowing herself another moment of comfort before turning to Father Isaac to ask, “The chapel is prepared?”
“I’ve opened the wards to allow you to speak with the Duchess,” Isaac said. “If things go wrong, I’ll do my best to protect you all, but I can make no promises.”
“I understand.” Danielle drew a deep breath. “I’ve already made my promise.”
“Good luck,” said Armand.
Danielle walked to the front of the church, rested a hand on her sword, and spoke the Duchess’ name three times.
The wooden floor warped and split, boards appearing to fall into endless shadow. The Duchess appeared soon after. “Greetings, Your Majesty. My congratulations on your coronation.”
Danielle gave a slight bow. Theodore had stepped down four months after the death of his wife. He remained in the palace, but now spent his time advising his son and spoiling his grandson. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“To King Armand as well,” the Duchess added. “Given your new responsibilities, I’m flattered you remembered your obligation to a lowly fairy such as myself.”
How could she forget, when she had thought about her oath every day since making it? “What was your plan for Jakob? To enchant him as you once did Armand? Or to force him to swear loyalty to you, to enslave him as you
