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Authors: Jim C. Hines
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“Roudette got away.” Danielle could see it in Talia’s expression. Nothing enraged Talia more than her own failure, and whatever had happened, she blamed herself.
Danielle put a hand on Armand’s shoulder. His entire body was tense as he watched Talia hand Charlotte over to the guards. The last time he had seen Charlotte, she and Stacia had used magic to enslave him.
Snow and Trittibar sat down right there in the grass. They had obviously come straight from battle, without taking time even to bandage Trittibar’s wounds. Tymalous and Isaac shooed Snow away as they inspected the damage to Trittibar’s arm.
Snow swayed and might have fallen if Talia hadn’t caught her. Danielle was already running toward them, Armand close behind.
“What happened?” Danielle asked. “Are you both all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” said Snow. “It’s Trittibar’s fault, whisking us away so suddenly. He broke my wind spell, and the backlash was worse than I expected.” She gave Talia a wan smile. “It’s embarrassing, really. Breaking wind in the middle of a fight.”
“That’s terrible.” Talia punched her lightly on the shoulder. “Roudette—”
“I know,” said Danielle. “She escaped. Which means she’ll be coming after me again.”
“Not you.” Talia glanced over her shoulder, as if she expected to see Roudette charging through the gate behind her. “Me.”
The throne room was Danielle’s least favorite part of Whiteshore Palace. Standing here surrounded by such wealth and opulence still made her feel like an imposter.
Marble pillars framed a circular dais. Twin thrones sat at the top, each one carved of dark-stained oak and inlaid with gold and ivory. The back of the king’s throne was shaped to resemble a griffon. The queen’s was carved with a swan motif, the wings folded forward as though to embrace Beatrice.
From Danielle’s place beside the queen, she could make out every line in the swan’s feathers, each one carved with inhumanly fine detail. The queen sat stiffly, her back not quite touching the back of the chair. Beside her, King Theodore was whispering something to Chancellor Crombie, a sour old man with a wrinkled face and permanently ink-stained fingers. Crombie sat to the right of the dais, parchment and ink laid out on a wooden desk before him.
Armored guards stood to either side of the double doors at the far end of the throne room, their mail polished until it shone almost as brightly as Snow’s mirrors. Father Isaac waited to the left of the dais, silver crucifix clutched in both hands, his head bowed in magical prayer.
The room was otherwise abandoned. Imposing as the throne room could be, the emptiness made it worse. There would be no audience for this hearing. Only Chancellor Crombie was in attendance to document Charlotte’s sentencing.
Danielle straightened her belt, adjusting her sword. “Have we heard anything about Ambassador Trittibar?” she whispered.
“Tymalous will take care of him,” Beatrice assured her.
“I meant from Fairytown,” Danielle said. “Will they really exile him for saving Snow and Talia?”
“He violated the treaty.” Beatrice made no effort to hide her sadness. “Fairies are not known for ignoring the rules. Twisting them to meet their needs, yes. Something like this . . . no matter the circumstances, I’m afraid they’ve no choice.”
Theodore turned to Danielle. “Ambassador or no, Trittibar will always be welcome in this palace.”
“None of this is your fault,” Beatrice assured her.
“No?” Danielle glanced at the doors. “I’m the one who insisted we save Charlotte.”
“You made the right decision,” said Beatrice. “This was our best chance to stop Roudette.” The guards straightened, and Beatrice’s expression grew stern. “They’re here.”
Talia and Snow entered together, Charlotte hobbling between them. Two more guards followed close behind.
Charlotte’s wrists were shackled. Iron chain
“Roudette got away.” Danielle could see it in Talia’s expression. Nothing enraged Talia more than her own failure, and whatever had happened, she blamed herself.
Danielle put a hand on Armand’s shoulder. His entire body was tense as he watched Talia hand Charlotte over to the guards. The last time he had seen Charlotte, she and Stacia had used magic to enslave him.
Snow and Trittibar sat down right there in the grass. They had obviously come straight from battle, without taking time even to bandage Trittibar’s wounds. Tymalous and Isaac shooed Snow away as they inspected the damage to Trittibar’s arm.
Snow swayed and might have fallen if Talia hadn’t caught her. Danielle was already running toward them, Armand close behind.
“What happened?” Danielle asked. “Are you both all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” said Snow. “It’s Trittibar’s fault, whisking us away so suddenly. He broke my wind spell, and the backlash was worse than I expected.” She gave Talia a wan smile. “It’s embarrassing, really. Breaking wind in the middle of a fight.”
“That’s terrible.” Talia punched her lightly on the shoulder. “Roudette—”
“I know,” said Danielle. “She escaped. Which means she’ll be coming after me again.”
“Not you.” Talia glanced over her shoulder, as if she expected to see Roudette charging through the gate behind her. “Me.”
The throne room was Danielle’s least favorite part of Whiteshore Palace. Standing here surrounded by such wealth and opulence still made her feel like an imposter.
Marble pillars framed a circular dais. Twin thrones sat at the top, each one carved of dark-stained oak and inlaid with gold and ivory. The back of the king’s throne was shaped to resemble a griffon. The queen’s was carved with a swan motif, the wings folded forward as though to embrace Beatrice.
From Danielle’s place beside the queen, she could make out every line in the swan’s feathers, each one carved with inhumanly fine detail. The queen sat stiffly, her back not quite touching the back of the chair. Beside her, King Theodore was whispering something to Chancellor Crombie, a sour old man with a wrinkled face and permanently ink-stained fingers. Crombie sat to the right of the dais, parchment and ink laid out on a wooden desk before him.
Armored guards stood to either side of the double doors at the far end of the throne room, their mail polished until it shone almost as brightly as Snow’s mirrors. Father Isaac waited to the left of the dais, silver crucifix clutched in both hands, his head bowed in magical prayer.
The room was otherwise abandoned. Imposing as the throne room could be, the emptiness made it worse. There would be no audience for this hearing. Only Chancellor Crombie was in attendance to document Charlotte’s sentencing.
Danielle straightened her belt, adjusting her sword. “Have we heard anything about Ambassador Trittibar?” she whispered.
“Tymalous will take care of him,” Beatrice assured her.
“I meant from Fairytown,” Danielle said. “Will they really exile him for saving Snow and Talia?”
“He violated the treaty.” Beatrice made no effort to hide her sadness. “Fairies are not known for ignoring the rules. Twisting them to meet their needs, yes. Something like this . . . no matter the circumstances, I’m afraid they’ve no choice.”
Theodore turned to Danielle. “Ambassador or no, Trittibar will always be welcome in this palace.”
“None of this is your fault,” Beatrice assured her.
“No?” Danielle glanced at the doors. “I’m the one who insisted we save Charlotte.”
“You made the right decision,” said Beatrice. “This was our best chance to stop Roudette.” The guards straightened, and Beatrice’s expression grew stern. “They’re here.”
Talia and Snow entered together, Charlotte hobbling between them. Two more guards followed close behind.
Charlotte’s wrists were shackled. Iron chain
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