Stealing Snow (38 page)

“Patience may be a witch’s most vital spell,” said my mother.

The River Witch had been right about my parents being bad for each other, but it was not my father leading my mother into the darkness. They were equals in the dance. They, like that couple in one of Vern’s old movies, were the Bonnie and Clyde of evil.

The pain in my chest had not gone away. Every word felt like another knife, and yet I found myself asking for more.

“Mom, I don’t understand,” I said. “Tell me the truth. You owe me the truth.”

“You’re right, Snow. But I’d rather show you.”

A flash of a dream accompanied her words. And all of a sudden I could see her memory.

My young, handsome father was standing by the River, holding a screaming baby in his hands. Just as he was about to toss me in, my mother grabbed me and jumped off the cliff toward the rushing water below.

But this time instead of the silence of the dream I knew, there was sound. I could hear the rush of the River. I could hear my mother’s desperate, ragged breath.

I could hear her as she whispered to my father before she jumped. The words chilled me to the bone and made sense of my entire existence.

“Not yet, my love…”

My whole life turned on a sentence.

I opened my eyes and she repeated the words, to me.

“
Not yet, my love.
”

The Snow King broke the spell, bringing us all back to the palace grounds. “I know what the prophecy says, but there is no way Snow will pick our side.”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “Because there is so much good in her?”

“Because she has so much power. Too much. There is no way she’ll give her power to us when the Eclipse comes. She’s strong, and she’s only going to get stronger. It’s too much of a risk. We have to cut our losses. You must see that now.”

Ora turned to my father. “We must wait. Now that Snow knows this truth, there’s yet another truth, another past, to
attend to. Our other daughter has the mirror, and she is running—something you would have sensed if you had been doing what I asked instead of this…”

“You knew about my sister this whole time?” I spat at the King.

“Oh yes.” He laughed. “But she was of no consequence. Until now.”

“Enough of this! Go, Lazar. Find Temperly and our mirror,” Ora demanded.

No matter how powerful he was, it was clear that Mom was the driving force in this dysfunctional relationship. In this plot, she was the mastermind.

The King sighed, and the air around his feet began to swirl. A snow tornado formed around him. It rose into the air, and my father was gone.

Beside me Jagger raised his sword. I pushed it down.

“You don’t understand,” I said, confused for the umpteenth time. “I have the mirror. Mom lied to save me, didn’t you, Mom?” I slipped the compact out of my pocket to show Jagger the proof.

“Open it,” he demanded.

I clicked open the gold lid. The mirror was gone.

I thought of Temperly’s face when she had passed it to me. She had somehow slipped the mirror out—another betrayal. Temperly had gone on her own to try to make an alliance with the witches.

My sister had run, and our mother had just sent the King after her. Now Temperly was in danger. My mom had been the biggest lie of all.

No!
my brain screamed. My head hurt. I looked down at my arms where the blue veins were more prominent than ever. I
wondered, if I got angry enough, if I got hurt enough, would I transform into something else, like Gerde? Like the River Witch? I thought I had reached my pain limit when I saw Margot die in the snow. But apparently there was no limit. There was only an abyss. It was too much. I wanted to go back to Whittaker. I wanted to go back and unknow all that I now knew.

“Snow,” Jagger said in a whisper, urging me back to him.

I looked at the man who had saved me so many times in Algid. He was calling to me. But I only had eyes for Bale.

I ran to Bale’s side and pulled the wretched armor off his body. I noticed water pooling around his head, the red hair I had missed now a matted mess. I still reached for it. “Bale, I don’t care what you did. Just come back to me. Come back to me so I can hate you. Come back to me and convince me that this is wrong. Just come back, Bale,” I ordered him.

What mattered was that he breathed in and out again. It didn’t matter what he had done.

An interminable pause followed. I felt a pain in my chest.

Bale’s eyes fluttered open. He shook his head, a bit of recognition mingled with confusion.

“Snow.”

He said my name, and for a split second the world mended.

“Bale. My Bale.” I held on to the moment, knowing that the flood of bad things was coming back. I ran my palm over his cheek. It was hot to the touch.

“Sorry …,” he spoke again.

But the word complicated things even more.

I was sure that fire was the only thing Bale might love more
than me. Would he have given anything, done anything, in exchange for that power?

“I’m so s-sorry, Snow,” Bale stuttered.

He withdrew a vial made of ice from his pocket. The star with razor-sharp points on his left forearm glowed with an intensity I had never seen before. I realized then that it wasn’t a star—it was a snowflake. And before I could stop him, he tipped the potion to his lips.

Bale disappeared. He was gone again.

I felt something break in me. I didn’t know that there was anything left to break.

I closed my eyes, and my mind flashed to a vision of the past. Bale’s past. I saw Bale’s house again. I heard his jagged breath. Only this time, I saw streams of fire shooting out of Bale’s—little Bale’s—raised arms. No matches.

Bale’s house was set against a forest of purple trees. The house was in Algid.

Then just as suddenly, the vision shifted to Bale now, sixteen-year-old Bale, who stumbled into the house.

And then the vision faded to white.

“Snow…”

It was my mother’s voice, calling me back. Calling me away from him.

I pushed the voice out of my head. I needed another minute with the vision to figure out where Bale was in Algid.

“I can help your Bale,” my mother coerced.

“Did you and Lazar send him to me? To spy on me? To make me love him? Was that you, too?”

“Does it really matter how? You love him.”

I looked at the outline in the snow where Bale had been. I did love him. I’d crossed the Tree for him. And even now, I loved him still. But did the how matter, like Kai had once said?

“I can take you to him. I can heal him. Come with us, child. Wait for the Lights. When you come into your own and you come to our side, we can be the family you always wanted. Algid is your home.”

She reached out her hand to me.

“Don’t believe her. She will kill you, Snow,” Jagger piped in.

My mother looked at him sharply. “Like she can believe you?”

I looked from Jagger to my mother and back. I knew what to do. I took my mother’s hand.

She beamed at me beatifically. I squeezed her hand tighter. I felt something cold and imposing transfer from me to her. The look on her face said that she felt it, too. I took a step back as her expression changed from satisfied to confused to pained. She tried to pull away, but to no avail. The color drained from her hand in an instant, and her fingers began to harden. Her skin turned blue as the cold moved up her body.

When the cold had taken hold completely, my mother was frozen solid. It couldn’t be undone. I expected the regret to flood in. But instead there was just sadness and hurt. Freezing her didn’t take the pain away. It made it more permanent. Just like the one scar on her face from the day I walked through the mirror that was visible even through the ice.

I let go of her hand. It was done.

Bale belonged to the Snow King. My mother was in league with my father. And I had frozen her. This was real. It was cruel, twisted reality.

My knees buckled. Jagger caught me in his arms. It was too much. It was all too much.

“Just breathe,” he ordered, holding me tighter. But what he was really doing was ordering me to live. To survive.

“I can’t …,” I said with a sob.

“It’s over,” Jagger said, looking around the palace grounds. “The battle’s done.”

Howl approached us with the full report. “The King’s soldiers surprised me. They took Margot and Cadence and Fathom. I couldn’t stop them. I used up everything I had trying to save Margot. I had nothing left.”

Jagger squared his shoulders. “We should gather the girls together.”

“Is the Snow King dead?” Howl asked.

“No,” I said. “I couldn’t do it.”

Howl paused, processing. A look of rage replaced the sadness. She looked at Jagger and pounded her fists into his chest.

“You were supposed to keep your eye on her. This whole thing could have been over. The King should be dead, not Margot,” Howl said, releasing her hurt and anger on Jagger.

“Snow knows about Ora,” Jagger warned, looking at my frozen mother.

“What?” I demanded.

A new layer of dread formed in my soul like the thin layer of snow over the bridge.

Jagger reached out to me. “It’s not what you think.”

My chest ached. I could hear my heart in my ears.

“Did you know about my mom and the Snow King?”

“I suspected they were working together.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me? How could you not tell me?”

“I didn’t think it would help for you to know,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Liar,” I threw back.

“Okay, truth: I didn’t want to stall the mission,” he said. “I didn’t think you would go on, if you knew. I thought you would go back to the other side of the Tree. I didn’t want you to leave.”

Jagger had told me who he was from almost the first second we’d met, and yet still it surprised me when he betrayed me.

“Don’t blame him, Snow. Once a thief …” Howl trailed off.

I felt the anger drain out of me. I looked at Bale’s blood on my hands, and I felt so tired.

Jagger took a step toward me.

“Stay away from me!” I shouted.

“I know you don’t mean that, Snow,” he said, a little too carefully.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again,” I demanded.

He stepped back. Did he think I was going to freeze him, too?

I almost did.

I took one last look at my mother. And then I turned around and headed for the River.

I was still wearing the Robber girls’ feathered dress that had been touched with magic. I let it pick me up and carry me to the spot where I had first met the River Witch.

I pulled the empty compact out of my pocket. What had I done? What would I do next?

The water rippled, and I saw the reflection of the only one I could turn to.

“You were right, about everything,” I said simply.

“Fear not, child,” the River Witch said. “This will be your home. And we will make you Queen.”

To my editor and publisher, Cindy Loh, for your faith and brilliance. Snow would not exist without you. Also, for divine taste in food.

For my team at Bloomsbury, especially Cristina Gilbert, Lizzy Mason, and Erica Barmash, thank you for embracing and supporting Snow!

To Joanna Volpe, my powerhouse agent, there are not enough thank-yous! You know what you did and what you do!

To Pouya Shahbazian and the rest of my team at New Leaf, thank you for taking such good care of me and blazing a trail.

To Ray Shappell and Erin Fitzsimmons—for making covers so beautiful that people have to pick them up.

To my family and friends, thank you for being there and for understanding when I haven’t been there. Mommy, Daddy, Andrea, Josh, Sienna. Your love and support is everything to me.
Bonnie Datt, for being a lifeline, for making me laugh, and for being a true friend. Nanette Lepore forever! Annie, Chris, Fiona, and Jackson Rolland, I love you to 5,000 and more.

Lauren, Logan, Joe Dell. Laur, I am so glad that our friendship really is forever. Carin Greenberg, for sharing your smarts and lunches with me. Paloma Ramirez, you moved away but we will always be close! Daryn Strauss, for being a star and always making me feel like one. Leslie Rider, for showing up and showing by example how to be brave.

Kami Garcia, for being a goddess on and off the page. Kass Morgan, thank you for the last-minute read and the kindest of words.

Jennifer Armentrout, Kiera Cass, Melissa de la Cruz, Margie Stohl, Melissa Grey, Valerie Tejada, Sasha Alsberg, and Josh Sabarra and the countless other writer friends who teach and share and cheerlead.

My
Guiding Light
family, Jill Lorie Hurst, Tina Sloan, Crystal Chappell, Beth Chamberlin, and all the fans who still keep the light alive.

Lexi Dwyer, Lisa Tollin, Jeanne Marie Hudson, Megan Steintrager, Kristen Nelthorpe, Tom Nelthorpe, Ernesto Munoz, Mark Kennedy, Maggie Shi, Leslie Kendall Dye, Sandy and Don Goodman, Mike Wynne, Matt Wang, Seth Nagel, Kerstin Conrad, Chris Lowe, Steve McPherson, Lanie Davis, Harry and Sue Kojima, and all the other friends I will think of the second the book is published.

For the bloggers and the Tubers, thank you for bringing new life to the book world and for helping get my books seen.

For my readers, thank you for crossing the Tree with me. I would write if no one was reading me, but you have made every step of this journey that much sweeter. There is nothing like knowing that something you poured your heart into is in the hands of a reader and that person feels something. It’s the closest thing to magic I’ve gotten to experience.

Copyright © 2016 by Danielle Paige and The Story Foundation

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

First published in the United States of America in September 2016
by Bloomsbury Children’s Books
www.bloomsbury.com

Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc