If nothing else, Talia should hear their conversation and know what had happened. Snow concentrated, maintaining the thread between her choker and the mirrored bracelet Talia wore. She glanced at the largest, searching for Talia, but it was dark outside, and Talia was moving too quickly to make out any details. Gold wire unraveled, and the choker fell into her hand, its small oval mirrors clinking together. “Take off that necklace of yours,” Hansel said. He didn’t strike her as the patient sort. Snow knew the only reason he hadn’t fired was because he might need to bargain with Talia to get his sister back, but she had no idea how long he would wait. On the other hand, then Talia never would have let her forget how brute force had triumphed where magic failed.Īt least if Hansel killed her, she wouldn’t have to worry about Talia’s teasing. Had her aim been better, she might have ended things at the top of the staircase. Hansel had some sort of protection against her spell, but non-magical weapons worked just fine. Blood darkened the area around the sharpened steel snowflake stuck in his thigh. He stepped around a broken table, wincing as he put weight on his right leg. “I’ve better things to do than be executed by your witch-loving king and queen.” “No, thank you,” he said, his expression half sneer, half smile. If you’d like to put down that bow, we could head to the palace to wait for them.” His sister had escaped onto the roof, with Talia close behind. The occupants had fled into the cold right around the time Snow sent Hansel tumbling down the stairs. “Talia’s not a witch.” Snow searched the empty tavern for anything she might use as a weapon.

Knotted braids of hair dangled from his belt: trophies of his kills.

He wore heavy furs over a thick leather vest, studded in brass. He was middle-aged and built like a bear, with shaggy blond locks that hung just past his shoulders. Snow’s would-be prisoner went by the name of Hansel. It went without saying that this was entirely Talia’s fault. She should have been halfway back to the palace by now, not staring down the pointy end of a silver-tipped arrow, wielded by a man known to have murdered at least sixteen witches, while fire spread through the inn’s upper story. The universe rarely cooperated with Snow’s plans. Snow would cast a spell of sleep upon their quarry, who could then be brought to Whiteshore Palace to face trial. Talia would “persuade” the innkeeper to tell them which room held the two fugitive witchhunters who had recently snuck into Lorindar. An hour or so before sunrise, Snow White and Talia would sneak into the Sailor’s Bone Inn.

The Snow Queen's Shadow by Jim C. Hines