Snow White held a hand up and didn’t lose her look of understanding—even when Marzell almost squashed her when he backed up to avoid a construct’s attack. “I really do understand. I’m grateful you told me—it is merely all for strategy.”
Before Angelique could say anything more, three constructs attacked Rupert at once.
Angelique wedged herself between him and Gregori and stabbed a construct with a starfire, moving fast so Gregori didn’t trample her as they continued to carve their way through the seething horde.
The Mullberg lord and his men were handling the big construct with remarkable composure—it seemed the soldier had been speaking the truth to Angelique. All of Snow White’s careful instruction meant the soldiers stood in a semi-circle around the construct, distracting it so their bowman could get a good shot.
Constructs pressed around them. The mirror had to be replicating them given that the chamber wasn’t emptying at all, even though the warriors had cleared out at least a hundred of the creatures.
We need to finish this, or we’re going to be overrun.
Three sets of hall doors were slammed open, and armed men rushed in.
“Clear the way! Clear the way! Clear the way!” the newly arrived warriors shouted as they cut through the constructs, linking up with the men trying to take down the troll-like construct.
Angelique laughed when she saw the Mullberg symbol—a charging ram—on their uniforms.
Snow White surely never knew how popular she was. These are royal soldiers!
The soldiers flooded the room, fortifying the other warriors and cutting through the constructs faster than the mirror could replace them.
Within seconds, the big construct was downed, and though the constructs continued to swarm, the fresh soldiers weren’t phased and fought on.
A Mullberg lieutenant paused in the fight just long enough to point at the stairs that led to the throne room, then to salute Snow White.
Angelique lobbed the handful of starfires she was holding. “I’d say that’s our cue to keep going.”
“Your orders, Snow White?” Gregori asked.
“We continue,” Snow White said. “We have to find Faina, or there will be no end to this.”
Fritz was first to move. He started up the stairs, taking two at a time. Snow White and Angelique were right behind him.
Fritz leaned against the wooden door, pressing his ear to its surface. “Nothing.”
“It must be hoped, then, that she is alone.” Snow White said.
Angelique shook her head as a shadowy, dark sort of sensation oozed under the door crack. There might not be any servants or guards in there with her, but she’s not alone.
But if the mirror was there…Evariste would be as well.
The thought made Angelique’s heart rattle in her chest. Soon!
“Fritz.” Snow White set her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Open the doors.”
Fritz leaned into the doors, pushing them open as Angelique prayed with all of her being.
Please, please, be here!
Fritz and Marzell were first into the room—though Snow White was so close behind them, she almost trod on their heels.
Angelique hung back, letting the other warriors in—though it was difficult to say if she stayed back in hopes of catching the mirror off guard, or if it was because now, when she was about to face the truth of the matter, she almost couldn’t bear to find out if Evariste was really here or not.
The room was shrouded in shadow. Although the far end of the throne room was filled with floor-to-ceiling windows, and there were a great many skylights, clouds filled the sky, and the scant braziers that were lit cast eerie shadows in the room.
The air smelled stale and rotten—like death and decay left to fester. The scent was powerful enough, Angelique nearly choked on it, though it didn’t seem to bother the warriors or Snow White.
The flooring was smoothed obsidian rock that seemed to gape like a hungry maw, waiting to devour Angelique, Snow White, and the warriors.
But it was the twelve suits of black armor that made the back of Angelique’s neck prickle. She could feel the dark magic radiating off them.
Silently, the knights turned in an unnatural unison to face them, their obsidian-rock armor shining and their blood-covered swords gleaming wet. They were constructs—but they were forged with a terrifying amount of power and were larger than even Gregori.
Faina was there, impossible to miss in a giant crown that looked like the points had been sharpened with a file. She sat on the throne with a cruel smile.
But Angelique’s gaze sped past all that to focus solely on the mirror.
It was larger than she imagined and horribly beautiful, with a gold frame that curved with ornately embossed flowers. The colossal, blood-red ruby that glittered at the top of the frame—the focal point—seemed to glow with magic.
It’s the Snow Queen’s mirror. Its most remarkable feature was the bloated red rock.
When Angelique finally stepped into the room, she was almost forced to her knees by its sheer power. She felt its magic—numbing and unforgiving—surge around her with an iciness that promised to enfold her, slowly freezing her bit by bit as it consumed her power.
A string of curses escaped Angelique as she endured the magic—resisting the urge to release her own powers. Her fingers twitched to summon her silvery powers, which were starting to stir like the ocean waters before a monsoon.
Whatever spell it used to cloak its power doesn’t extend beyond the throne room. Does that mean…Evariste?
Angelique dared to let her magical senses drift to the mirror, and she felt it: the faintest twinge of Evariste’s bright, dazzling powers.
It was almost entirely eclipsed by the mirror’s dreadful magic, but she could feel it flickering like a candle about to be snuffed out.
Angelique jolted forward a step, then caught herself.
I can’t! I need to wait for the optimal time to attack, or I won’t be able to free him!
Angelique was certain of this, all the way to the marrow in her bones.
The power of the mirror, the unforgiving way it drowned the room…she didn’t have a hope of destroying it. She’d only succeed in freeing Evariste if she surprised it. Hopefully it would be weakened if Snow White got through to Faina.
A dry sob caught in her throat, and she clenched her teeth as she forcibly held herself in place, even though every part of her soul screamed with impatience and pain from the mirror’s power.
Bear it. Evariste has borne so much. I’m not going to fail him now!
“Faina,” Snow White said.
“Snow White.” The Queen spoke in a deep, fathomless voice that couldn’t have been hers. It had a blurred quality to it—as if time had slowly worn away the individual timber, leaving an echoey, almost watery quality to it. “Fairest of them all. How fortunate it is that you have come to me.”
Snow White trembled—reacting to the power of the mirror even if she couldn’t feel it as strongly as a mage would—and took a tiny step back.
Angelique’s magic howled within her as the pressure built.
No, no. Angelique gritted her teeth and held her powers close. I can’t pick a fight I won’t win. You’re a part of me—you should know better.
Snow White gulped, then pushed back her shoulders. “It appears you have misunderstood the situation.” Her voice grew louder the longer she talked, and she lifted her chin up. “I have not come to you, but Faina.”