Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ten years ago, the mirror merchant came to town. He arrived during the winter festival and propped up his yellow tent at the town square. And when the festival was over and children went home with their ribbons and candied apples, the merchant stayed. No one thought about it much, for his mirrors were of the highest quality; it was a good business for him. The cost was always something the customer was just able to pay. It needn’t be money, but few people told anyone what they had given up in exchange.

They were the finest mirrors around, because they always showed the truth about everything. Everyone simply had to have one. Fights broke out over them; and when the merchant said he had run out of mirrors, the townsfolk were desperate. But he consoled them and said there was a way everyone could have their share. No one asked about the price. This merchant had a way about him that made people trust him, no matter what. “What an honest fellow”, they said, though no one could quite remember his face or the colour of his hair. They each thought the others were in the wrong; they could see how it was in their mirrors.

You see, the secret of the mirrors was this: They showed everything in the ugliest possible light. Everything beautiful withered and ugly things turned monstrous. But everyone thought they were finally able to see the world as it really was. Neighbours and friends turned against one another, and sweethearts shrank back from each other in horror. Their trust in the mirrors’ wisdom was absolute, and this must have been the mirror merchant’s cleverest trick.

However, there was more to come.

The merchant, who was in truth a wicked faery, worked his trade in an honest fashion. He never told a lie, and he always kept his promises. One beautiful winter’s day, when the snow was gently falling and frost painted flowers on window-glass, every single mirror in the town cracked to pieces. The shards flew up to the sky in a great maelstrom of silver. People ran out to look, and were struck down at once. The big shards would pierce the heart and turn it into ice; a great many people died this way. The tiny shards floated up to the sky like snowflakes shimmering in the sun. If one caught your eye, it might have been a mercy to die: the world seemed forever ugly and twisted, as it really was in the mirror.

The wind picked up the fragments and carried them even to distant lands. And the mirror merchant was never seen again.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom perhaps too close for comfort, there lived a beautiful Prince who was looking for a bride. On this noble quest he travelled far and wide. In no way was he shirking his responsibilities or running away from his mother the Queen, whose iron heel struck fear in the hearts of men. I can attest to this, because I was his most trusted servant, and will remain so until the day I die. Which, knowing my Prince, might be sooner rather than later.

I did not mind leaving the court behind, nor being free of the strange tug-of-war between my childhood sweetheart Lisette and Prince Ludwig. Handling even one of them was a full-time job. Despite our fugitive status, I was content. We followed paved roads and twisting paths northward, letting chance take us where it would. There were enough miracles and monsters in the wide world to keep the Prince entertained and me in fear for our lives. We encountered rock-trolls and phoenixes and houses running on legs. However, I noted that among our discoveries there were curiously few Princesses.

At present, we were riding through snowy woods, eager to reach the next town before nightfall. The days were short this far north. The Prince turned back to say something, probably complain about one thing or another. However, I was too distracted to pay attention. The rays of the falling sun set Lui’s hair ablaze like golden fire. He had a phoenix feather tucked behind his ear. The gently falling snow clung to his eyelashes. The sight was not unreal; it threw a challenge at reality. I was struck with the curious thought that I might touch fire without getting burned.

The Prince’s lashing voice banished such foolish thoughts. “Wil, you idiot! Did you hear a word I said?”

I stared at him like a startled deer. “Certainly…”

The Prince slapped the back of my head. “Pay attention! Look around and tell me where we are.”

I did as he bid me, and my heart sank. Half-buried beneath the snow I saw a scattering of headstones, staring at us in grim warning.

“A graveyard,” I said. A shiver passed down my spine. “Why here in the middle of the woods?”

“Why indeed,” the Prince said, sounding far too delighted. “It must be abandoned or cursed, of course. The snow is untouched.”

Before I could stop him, he had dismounted and stalked towards the graves, never minding the unspoiled snow.

I could do little but hold the reins of his horse and keep a lookout for bandits or something worse. It was usually something worse.

The Prince brushed snow off the headstones, ruining his fine leather gloves. This was the kind of hunt that appealed to him – mysteries instead of foxes or fowl. I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me like him a little better.

“Wil,” he called out, “there’s something strange here. Come over. I don’t think these corpses care if the horses trample their graves. Probably.”

Nevertheless, I led the horses over carefully. The sun was only a faint hint of red between the trees. We really should have left, but I knew the fastest way to go about it was to follow his wishes.

“Victim of the Mirror Plague,” I read on the gravestone. There was a dull, round piece of glass embedded on the stone. A mirror? It was too darkened with age to tell. “And the next one, too, dated ten years back… Did they all die of this illness? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Yes, my simple servant,” Lui said impatiently, rubbing his cold hands together. He would complain the rest of the way, I knew it. His extensive wardrobe was not designed for these climes. Maybe he would deign to borrow my mittens. “They all died of the plague, which explains the isolated location of the graveyard. But this obsession with mirrors is peculiar.”

“Indeed, my Prince,” I replied quite without thinking. He shot me a chilling glare. “Not that anyone here has mirror issues! Certainly not I, nor you with the whole world telling you how – how –” I had no idea of how to finish that utterance. It should have been easy to repeat what he had heard so many times, yet for some reason I was tongue-tied.

Lui paid no mind to my awkwardness. He was staring at the words written on a greenish brass plaque on the tallest headstone. He read out loud:

“Mirror, mirror in the eye,
Cold and wicked from the sky,
Mirror, mirror in the heart,
Struck me down, now we must part.

Hell, I thought we were done with mirrors already!”

“That sounds ominous,” I said.

I had learned a thing or two on our travels. One; that when my instincts warned me of danger and madness ahead, they were rarely wrong, and two; we would undoubtedly head straight for the lion’s den. (We had in fact had an incident with a lion – but he was a self-righteous creature who disapproved of stockings, of all things. Things got somewhat out of hand when the Prince’s wardrobe was insulted.)

“I’ve no doubt you would rather avoid this town,” Lui said with a glint in his eye. “Too bad there’s nothing around us for miles except deep, dark woods…”

“And we would freeze to death,” I finished for him. “There’s nothing for it.”

He raised a perfect eyebrow at me. “You are suspiciously easy today.”

“I always go along with your plans,” I protested, my professional pride stung.

“Not without moaning and complaining,” the Prince said. “You must have ulterior motives.”

Still, he alighted on his horse, and we started towards the town at a brisk trot. My swift agreement made him more amenable to accepting the heavy mittens I offered him, which had been my plan all along. I knew very well that his assortment of gloves was all velvet and lace and soft, thin leather. As we left the sinister atmosphere of the forest, I smiled secretly to myself.

Had I known then what awaited us… I don’t know if there was anything I could have changed. But I am sure I wouldn’t have smiled.

The town was clean and modern, with oil-lanterns lighting the streets and houses standing in neat rows like soldiers at a parade. It had started snowing again, and snowflakes danced in the haloes of light. All in all, a pretty sight. There were few people out and about. Given the weather and the lateness of the hour, I was still inclined to give the place the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps this time, it would be all right. Perhaps the townsfolk had not been killed and turned into living corpses or murderous dolls, or whatever monstrosities we seemed to attract.

Of course, Lui had to shatter my fledgling hopes.

“So many dark windows,” he murmured. “Look. Only a few houses are lit.”

It was true; only three houses along the main street showed signs of life. The unlit windows stared at us like black, empty eyes.

“Maybe they go to sleep early,” I said with faint desperation. “Or they are poor and can’t afford to keep their houses lit.”

“Yet the streets are lit like a carnival. Come, stop playing dumb. This is not a poor quarter. There’s something wrong with this town, and I’m going to find out what.”

“How is this going to help you in finding a bride?” I asked helplessly. We were constantly getting sidetracked by the Prince’s whims. But I had not forgotten he had a quest, and my task was to help him, whether he deigned to show enthusiasm or not. After all, I was his most loyal servant.

The Prince flashed me an evil grin. “I’m considering becoming a hero.”

“Excuse me, my Prince?” I coughed, trying to pretend the frigid air had got into my lungs.

“I’m rethinking my strategy. It’s a terrible bother to traipse over hill and dale, trying to find a Princess with the perfect assets. If I become a hero, women will run after me. So I should update my portfolio of heroic deeds. My reputation as the necrophiliac Prince may be somewhat intimidating.”

“You don’t say,” I said, not lying in the least. Prince Ludwig was the most intimidating person I knew, with the sole exception of his mother. This whole heroics business took me aback. “You could take care of your image in the usual way, though.”

“What, paid minstrels and forged dragon-slaying certificates? There is only one thing wrong with that – I would get bored out of my skull! Now where is that inn? I’m sure I can scare some answers out of the staff.”

I doubted this had anything to do with our presumed bride-finding mission and everything to do with Lui’s curiosity and fascination with mortal peril. Sighing heavily, I followed him.

The Snow Rose Inn was a small but tidy establishment. The owned was a middle-aged woman, who ran the business with the help of her daughter. Both looked at us with great surprise, but I couldn’t tell if it was only the usual reaction to Lui’s eccentric appearance or something else. Still, they were polite enough, offered us room and board and were quick to take care of our damp coats. Soon we were all sitting around the fireplace, drinking mulled wine. The Prince seemed to behave himself for once. I made an effort to relax.

“Pardon the wait, sirs, but we weren’t expecting any visitors during the snowstorm,” the innkeep said with a sincere smile. “I am Rosa, and this is my daughter Astrid.”

“Lui and Wilhelm,” the Prince said. He had stopped announcing his status because it drew unnecessary attention. I took this to mean that we were still on the run from his mother. It still felt odd to hear him announce us like that, as though our names bore the same weight. At least he treated me callously as ever. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself. “I take it that you run this place.”

“I do. Indeed, I own it,” said Rosa. “It’s me and Astrid taking care of the business these days, though we get some hired help during the festivals.”

“Sounds like it didn’t used to be just the two of you,” the Prince said. He turned up the charm and met her eyes like this was the most important discussion in the world. He hadn’t even planted his boot on the table.

For a moment, Rosa looked very sad. It was in her eyes, I thought, the kind of old sadness that wouldn’t let go. “My husband left the inn to me when he passed away. I’m the rose in the name, see? It was his wedding gift to me. We were very happy, the three of us.” She closed her eyes briefly and found her smile again. “But we’re managing fine, me and my girl. I guarantee everything will be to your satisfaction.”

“I’m sure it will,” the Prince said. His gaze wandered around the room, taking in every detail, yet he did not linger on the obvious.

I frowned. Astrid was a pretty girl with ash-blond hair and pale blue eyes. Her measurements were flawless, yet Lui showed more interest in her mother. Astrid’s mouth had an unhappy twist, like it had forgotten how to smile. This reminded me strangely of the Prince – the expression he sometimes wore when he thought no one was looking.

She kept stealing glances at Lui, making a thorough study of him. Perhaps she wasn’t disinterested after all, or simply felt left out. Polite conversation was not my strong suit, but I braced myself, giving her a tentative smile.

“How do you like living here? This seems like a nice town,” I ventured. “I mean, you have a lot of…” I tried to think of something. “Lanterns and – space.” I winced at my awkwardness, which no doubt amused the Prince.

Astrid gave me a very unimpressed glare. “Not much to speak of, is it? Well, you’re right. Not many people live here anymore. Nothing ever happens. Everyone’s too afraid of the snow and shadows. I’m sure you saw that when you rode to town. Cowards, all of them.”

I was taken aback by her hostile tone.

“Astrid!” her mother said sharply.

“What am I supposed to say, mother?” The girl got up and smoothed her woollen dress. “I’m tired of playing pretend. But you go on. I’ll see to a room for our guests.”

There was a moment of silence as the clack of her shoes vanished up the stairs. The Prince looked more intrigued than offended.

“You must forgive my daughter,” Rosa said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m to blame if her manners are lacking. She’s not used to company. This used to be a bustling town, but it’s awfully quiet these days.”

“Is it because of the plague?” the Prince asked. Incapable of innocence, he settled for nonchalance. At Rosa’s startled look, he added, “We passed the graveyard on our way here.”

“I see. Of course,” she said with some reluctance. “It is true that the town never quite recovered. So many people lost their loved ones. I lost my husband. Even after – even though it’s all over, people keep avoiding this place.”

“Fear and superstition, I’m sure,” the Prince said lightly.

“So it is,” Rose said. “But things are surely looking up for us. Why, we’ve got two fine travellers such as yourselves! And more people will arrive for the winter solstice festival. Traders and actors and musicians, all manner of folk have been invited. This time it’s going to be a grand celebration.”

I got the impression that perhaps the previous attempts had not been very successful, but tried to dismiss the thought. Whenever had I become so cynical? I cast a sidelong glance at Lui. At least Rosa held on to hope.

“That should be a sight to see,” Lui said with a practiced smile. “Wil, do you fancy staying here for the party?”

“Yes,” I said, surprised that he had asked. Did he not want me to act like a servant here? He could have warned me. Or was it a trap? One could never be sure with the Prince. “I don’t mind at all.”

“Good.” Rosa beamed. “It’s quite late, and I’m sure you’re both tired after your travels. Astrid will show you to your room. Just ask her should you need anything.”

As if on cue, the girl appeared at the top of the staircase. “Follow me. Your room is on the second floor.”

I brought up the Prince’s luggage and my own modest belongings. The girl’s unwavering blue eyes followed our every move. The Prince flopped on the bed, somehow graceful despite his flailing limbs. He glanced at Astrid.

“Everything is to our satisfaction,” he said, implying that she should have asked. The girl answered with a blank stare. “You may leave us. Only – wait. There is no mirror in this room. Bring us one.”

“Could you please bring us a mirror?” I said hastily. “Or tell me where to look, and I’ll get it. It’s no trouble.”

Astrid’s face became unreadable. “We don’t have any mirrors here.”

“Then send for one,” the Prince said impatiently.

“We don’t have any mirrors,” she repeated. “Not a one in this town.”

The Prince raised an elegant eyebrow. “That is hard to believe.”

“Believe what you want, that’s how it is!” Astrid snapped. “Why do you need one so badly, anyway?”

The Prince let out a put-upon sigh. He got up on his elbows and curled a strand of hair around his fingers. “To brush my hair, obviously.”

“Why do you need a mirror for… Oh, never mind!” she said and turned on her heel. “You cannot have one, no matter what. Good-night!”

I stared after her in stunned silence. They must get few visitors indeed if this was normal behaviour for her. Servants were expected to make life easier for others. My fingers itched to fix the problem as usual; did she not feel that need?

“She was rather adamant about that,” the Prince said, and I turned to him. He did not appear perturbed in the least. “I was expecting some superstition about mirrors if they are related to the mystery plague. Did you see the look on her face?”

I had started organizing our belongings, knowing well that chaos and disorder would soon reign again when the Prince had gone through his wardrobe. “It was almost like – hatred.”

“Curious,” the Prince mused. “Let us hope it’s not another Snow White case. That would be terribly boring. But right now we have more important problems!”

“What is it, my Prince?” I asked, startled enough to wonder where I’d left my pistol. Our travels had not been uneventful, to say the least. Despite my reluctance, Lui had forced a beautiful, bone-handled pistol on me and told me I should at least be able to kill myself, even if I was useless otherwise.

Of course, the pistol was currently in the pocket of my coat downstairs.

“Get that spooked look off your face. It doesn’t become you, and I can’t have an ugly servant.”

I was simultaneously irked and relieved to know he wouldn’t learn of my negligence. “My apologies. I will do better in the future.”

“You can start now. I can’t very well brush my hair without a mirror, can I?” The Prince ran his hand through his hair, tangled and wild from our long ride through the woods.

“…No?” I ventured. Pointing out that most people managed it just fine would be futile.

“So, slow servant of mine, go fetch a brush and get to it.” The Prince’s smile was slow and wicked. He was enjoying this. I didn’t know what to make of it.

One might have thought us closer than ever, together on the run in foreign lands. In truth, not much had changed. There was still an invisible wall around him, impossible to breach. There was something incredibly frustrating about it. I had no clue know how to close that distance, but the urge to do so remained. If he wanted me to brush his hair, I would do it in a heartbeat. It was hardly an unreasonable request. I felt a bit guilty over my own willingness, but not enough to protest. Not even when he told me we’d do it on his bed.

I sat behind him, feeling very awkward, and started to untangle the sunset-coloured locks. The repetitive motion of running the brush through his hair was calming. I’d wondered idly what it felt like, which was completely normal, giving how striking it looked. The strands were a silky caress against my fingers. For a mad moment, I thought I had gold running through my hands. I felt very odd, like I wanted to hold on – to what?

I took a shaky breath. “I believe we are done here, Lui.”

The Prince tilted his head back to look up at me. “Oh? I was just getting comfortable.” To my surprise, he sounded sleepy, the usual razor-sharp focus softened. Inspecting his hair, he said, “You have secret talents. I won’t forgive you for hiding them. And don’t expect me to return the favour, either. Just take care my servant doesn’t look like a hobgoblin.”

That was high praise, coming from him. I knew I looked like a troll compared to his radiance – most people did. Eventually, I managed to disentangle myself before he fell asleep on me. Usually, sleep didn’t come easily for him, but tonight he curled up under the covers like a great, contented cat. Soon he was fast asleep.

After making sure everything was in order, I went downstairs with a mind to check on the horses. I wondered who took care of them. Surely the innkeeper had some help besides her daughter. The talk of the plague had left me ill at ease. How many people had died for the town to become so diminished? The graveyard we had encountered had not been large. Of course, there might be more than one… For some reason, the memory of the darkened windows haunted me.

I did my best to shrug off my unease. I had a job to do. The main door waslocked with heavy bolts, but it was easy enough to open. Outside, the snow was still falling quietly. The snowflakes danced under the streetlights, and I was mesmerized by their silvery shimmer. I must have stared for too long. When I blinked, I saw the snowflakes gather into a spiralling cloud. It moved like it had a mind of its own. Something was looking at me, something cold. Danger pricked at me like icy needles.

I dashed to the stables and closed the doors firmly. Lantern-light confirmed that the shutters were closed as well. I let out a sigh of relief. What I had felt outside made no sense. Was I simply overtired? Then I remembered another thing I had wondered: that Rosa had called the gentle snowfall a storm upon our arrival. Such a strange choice of words…

I shook my head. Her superstition must have stuck in my mind. I was simply weary and jumping at shadows. Satisfied with that explanation, I went about my task. Everything was in order with the horses, and I rewarded both with an apple for carrying us on this long, frozen stretch of our journey.

Nothing untoward happened as I crossed the yard on my way back, though I avoided looking at the lights. Once inside, I imagined I heard a faint tinkling sound as I brushed melting snow off my shoulders. But there was nothing to see.

My coat was drying by the fire. I was going to return to our room straightaway, but the fire was so cozy that I thought to warm my chilled hands for a moment. I dragged an armchair closer to the fireplace and watched the play of the flames. It was soothing, melting away my misgivings. I knew what the fire reminded me of. Like flame passing through my hands…

I woke with a jolt. The room was cold, and only a few embers gleamed in the fireplace. Someone had draped my coat over me; otherwise I might have woken sooner. I berated myself as I stumbled up and put on the coat. How could I have been so careless? Hoping fervently that the Prince had not noticed my absence, I crept upstairs as quietly as possible. When I reached our room, I saw that the door was ajar.

With a dark feeling of foreboding, I approached the doorway. It never occurred to me to do otherwise.

The sight which greeted me almost froze me. Ivory moonlight stole in through the window, illuminating the Prince’s delicate features, the rise and fall of his breast, his hair dyed silver by the moon. A large circle had been drawn on the floor around the bed, and another circle of runes shimmered on his chest. By the side of his bed stood a dark shape poised to strike. The light hit the gleaming blade of the dagger.

“One of the cursed, I set you free,” I thought I heard through the rush of blood in my ears; but I wasn’t listening. In a few strides I’d crossed the distance and grabbed a hold of the assailant’s wrist. Delicate bones ground together and sharp nails clawed at my face. Something fiery slashed my palm. I hardly felt it; everything was slow and unreal like a dream. Even in a nightmare, I was capable of throwing myself between the threat and the Prince. With the same dreamlike calm I drew the pistol from my pocket and pressed the barrel against the attacker’s forehead.

“Drop the weapon,” I said, “or I’m afraid I’ll have to shoot.”

At the same time, there was the rustle of curtains being drawn open all the way. Moonlight flooded the room. I realized that I was staring Astrid in the eye, her face twisted with rage, and I thought stupidly that her unhappy mouth fit the rest of her now. Though I was holding the gun, I felt a spike of fear. A glance at the bed showed a very disgruntled, very awake Lui kneeling by the window. The Prince narrowed his eyes, and then, quick as a snake –

Astrid let out a shocked gasp as the Prince’s kick sent her flying. She hit the wall, but blue sparks crackled to life around her and shielded her from the fall. Still, she was left stunned. The magic – for what else could it be? – faded slowly. The dagger clattered to the floor from her slack hand and rolled to my feet. Not daring to touch it, I kicked it under the bed. I realized I was shaking.

“Wil, you idiot,” a familiar voice said as archly as ever. “Would it be too much trouble to get us some light? Hand me that pistol.”

Time seemed to lurch forward. I had something to do. I could breathe again, though it pained me somewhat. I lit the oil lamps, and the room was soon awash with their yellow glow. Astrid was a grey lump in the corner. I felt guilty, doubly so because I suspected the Prince did not. Yet I had fought her and pulled a gun on her without hesitation.

“Are you all right, my Prince?” I asked as I returned to his side. He looked pale and dishevelled, but otherwise unscathed. He kept the pistol aimed steadily at Astrid.

“Were you really going to shoot?” the Prince said, smiling faintly.

Colour rose to my cheeks. “Well, I said so, didn’t I? I had to stop her.”

I knew I couldn’t have killed her, not in her mother’s house while I was looking her in the eye.

“But would you have done it? For me?” The Prince leaned close to whisper in my ear, sweet as poison.

I knew he was toying with me as he always did, yet colour rushed to my face. “That’s neither here nor there. She is still alive, so we can question her. We’re all alive.”

“As I thought,” Lui said, though I hadn’t really answered him. “You never change, Wil.”

I swallowed, quite lost. Was that a good thing? The Prince did not seem displeased, but I didn’t understand this mood at all. Then, in a typical whiplash change, he addressed the girl on the other side of the room.

“You. I know you’re awake and listening to our every word.” His voice was pure ice. “Get up and start talking.”

One blue eye cracked open. Astrid got slowly to her knees, a discarded ragdoll assuming human form again. She appeared thin and breakable; bruises were blooming on her wrist where I had grabbed her. I fought the urge to look away. I had to see to the results of my work. If I could no longer bear to witness what I had done – I had a vague feeling that was how monsters were born.

The Prince had no trouble facing the girl or speaking to her.

“Witch,” he pronounced with utter certainty. The runes on his skin had faded, but he held a hand against his breast as though he could still feel the circle, feel Astrid’s magic. “What spell did you cast on me? Speak or die!”

Most would have cowered in fear in the face of his rage, but not this witch girl. She squinted at the pistol aimed at her, looking unimpressed. “You must be used to people groveling before you, Prince.” I bit my lip, realizing my slip, as she continued, “We don’t care much for foreign Princelings in these parts. And you aren’t going to shoot me, because I’m the only person who can tell you the truth.”

“Why do you assume I value some truth over getting rid of a murderous pest?”

Lui really, really didn’t appreciate being waken up in this fashion.

“I’m sure people want to kill you all the time,” Astrid quipped. “But you must be curious. You kept asking an awful lot of questions. Since I can’t kill you, I might as well tell you what this is all about. I can tell you about the mirrors. And I can tell you why you should die.”

The Prince eyed her for a moment. Then he lowered the pistol, though he still watched her carefully. “Why not? If it’s something I haven’t heard before, I might even let you live.”

Astrid smiled her unhappy smile. “I believe this is a new one even for you.”

She claimed the chair by the dresser without asking. The Prince pulled me down to sit on the bed.

“I don’t like you hovering over me,” he said, yet I couldn’t remember when that had become a problem.

I didn’t resist; after all the excitement I was feeling a little faint. I had wrapped a handkerchief hastily around my palm. The knife had nicked me in the scuffle, but the cut was hardly worth a mention. The dimly lit room was quite warm. The lamps threw intricate shadows on the walls and brought out the warm orange of the Prince’s hair. He was sitting cross-legged with the pistol still in his lap. I was reminded bizarrely of an evening of children exchanging scary stories.

“I will tell you a tale of mirrors, since that’s what you wanted,” Astrid said. “But it might not be to your liking. It’s an unhappy tale, and we are all caught in it. I’m sure Mother told you what a lovely place this used to be. That may or may not be true. But everything changed ten years ago, when the mirror merchant came to town…”

We listened to a tale of magic and misfortune, greed and envy and endless grief. I was captivated by it, though she lacked a storyteller’s flair. Perhaps it was her plain speech which made it all more real.

Astrid looked weary when she was done with her story. “They called it the mirror plague. In truth, it’s a curse which haunts us still. Every time it snows, tiny pieces of mirror dance in the air, and if you’re unlucky, they will catch your eye.”

“Is that it?” the Prince asked, disdain evident in his voice. “What part of that nonsense explains you touching me in my sleep – and attempting murder?”

Privately I thought that was the sort of thing which tended to happen around the Prince.

Astrid scoffed. “Don’t get any ideas. I merely used a magic sigil on you to confirm something. And it proved my suspicions.”

“You’re trying my patience. What suspicions?”

She looked grim. “I keep watch over this part of town. When you arrived, my wards flared up like the northern lights. But there was no one but you.”

“Then clearly your magic is defective.”

“It is not!” Astrid snapped, anger sparking in her eyes. Or was it magic again? “You are just afraid of the truth!”

“I am not,” the Prince said, his voice terribly calm.

“Listen to yourselves!” I huffed, unable to take it anymore. I felt the beginnings of a headache. “This is beneath you. You both sound like children.”

That snapped them out of it. The Prince’s glare told me there might be a price to be paid later. But I remembered the discomfort I’d felt outside, watching the oddly behaving snow. My misgivings returned tenfold. If something was wrong with the Prince, I should know about it.

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying for a placating smile. It came out rather weak. “I’m sure your magic is trustworthy, but are there other ways of telling if this is true? Apologies, but we’ve grown wary of strangers and enchantments.”

Astrid thought for a moment. “You have known him for long?”

“Since forever,” I said naturally, as that was how it felt. By chance, Lui echoed my words. My face heated with embarrassment, but he seemed completely unaffected.

“Is that so?” Astrid said. “Then maybe you can tell me. Wil, do you remember a sudden change in the Prince’s behavior? It can’t have been recent – you’d have noticed for sure.”

It was somehow difficult to think, too warm and stifling. I loosened my neckcloth, and the wound on my palm stung wickedly. Try as I might, I couldn’t come up with a fitting memory. True, Lui had thawed a bit lately, but that was hardly what she meant.

“Am I not consulted in this matter?” the Prince asked.

“Your judgement is flawed,” Astrid stated without hesitation.

“Is it?” Lui smiled in an unpleasant manner. “Wil, think of ten years ago. That ought to narrow it down. Do you remember something the witch might find useful?”’

I tried to focus. Ten years. We had been but children. Of course we had changed. Lui had been lonely and sometimes cruel, but he’d grown up in that twisted court. He’d been capable of kindness, too, though he rarely showed it. When he did, he was radiant. It must have been on one of these occasions that I thought, “This is the person I will follow”.

A great many things had changed since then, yet I remained devoted to him. It had to mean something.

“I don’t remember anything unusual,” I said hesitantly. “We grew up, that’s all. And you always… appreciated beauty.”

“So you wouldn’t say the Prince is a cold and cruel and arrogant person?” Astrid asked, all sweetness.

“That doesn’t mean he’s cursed!” I snapped.

“You have a strange way of defending my character,” Lui pointed out, and I swallowed nervously.

“And you wouldn’t say his appreciation of beauty is extraordinary?” the witch continued. I couldn’t follow her thinking. I felt slow and stupid, just like the Prince always said I was.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” I countered. True, the search for the perfectly proportioned bride had been grueling, but Lui’s fascination with beauty was one of his better qualities.

“I see. You’re obsessed with beauty.” These words were aimed at Lui. “The world is full of ugliness. You look for beautiful things, but nothing is ever enough. Isn’t that right?”

The Prince looked at her coldly, but there was a glimmer of interest in his eye. “You spout that crap like it’s some great piece of wisdom. Of course the world is ugly. Of course I’d rather look at a pretty maiden than an ugly hag. Ugliness is despicable.”

“You still don’t realize,” the witch said. “How you strive to find something you can call beautiful. How it drives you to extremes. Your extravagant looks, your wandering, your choice of a servant… In fact, it’s very hard for you to see beauty in anything, isn’t it?”

I felt the slightest change in the Prince’s posture, a new tension in him. At some point, I’d come to lean against his shoulder. I corrected this at once, though my head was spinning. She had mentioned me. What did she mean by that?

“Obviously it is hard, because that’s how the world really is,” the Prince said.

“You are repeating words from my tale,” the witch said like that was a triumph of some kind.

“So?”

“Did it ever occur to you not everyone sees the world the way you do?”

Lui scoffed. “Then they are naive, and afraid of the truth.”

Astrid threw up her arms. “You insufferable – What will it take to make you believe?”

She didn’t know. The Prince was still listening, on the verge of some discovery. I could tell he was inclined to believe her but loathe to admit it. I wasn’t sure why, because if the curse was true it was something we should fix, something I should mend…

“Lui,” I said out of a sudden inspiration. “How do you see the world?”

He glanced at me, and at first I thought he wouldn’t answer. His turquoise eyes were hard as stone. Then he sighed and leaned back on his arms, staring at the ceiling. He spoke carelessly, like it didn’t matter.

“I see how beauty withers and life decays before my eyes. There are veils upon veils covering a crawling darkness. If I don’t look for beauty, I will drown.” His voice softened. “Isn’t it only natural that everyone I try to love dies? They all turn to dust.”

“Oh,” I said quietly. I didn’t want to know what he saw when he looked at me. It must be something quite horrible. Somehow that made me miserable. How odd, after all the cruel things he had said and done. Maybe it was because I was hurting already.

“I may have a bit of a fever,” I managed to say. Then I collapsed in the Prince’s lap in an undignified heap.

I lost a bit of time. Heated words were exchanged, distant, distorted. Someone rolled me on the bed and inspected my injured hand. I hissed as the handkerchief was removed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lui snapped. “This isn’t an ordinary wound.”

I opened my eyes and saw that gold-red lines spread from the cut and wound up my arm like vines of fine chain-link. I felt hot all over, but my arm was burning. The skin felt tight, constricted. I was suddenly reminded of the Iron Heinrich case. The fear of being crushed to death returned to haunt me.

“It’s poison,” said Astrid, which did nothing to curb my fears. “My dagger was coated in a magical tincture, very potent against the mirror-cursed. And lethal to anyone else.”

“You have an antidote.” The Prince said this flatly, daring the reality to refuse his will. “And you will give it to him if you value your life. Or a quick death.”

She was quiet for a too-long moment. “There is no antidote. Not as such. But he seems like a decent fellow, unlike you. My magic can keep the poison from spreading. The effects will fade in three days. If he can fight his way through, he’ll live.”

The Prince cursed. I felt a smooth hand on my forehead, then a hiss as fingers traced down my arm. “It burns! And it’s spreading quickly. Look at him… Curse you, witch! Do something or I’ll end you!”

I wanted to tell him that of course it burned, I was on fire, but the pain made me gasp like a fish on dry land.

“It’s supposed to do that!” Astrid snapped. “Now back off and let me concentrate. It’s not every day I stop time for someone.”

I immediately missed the Prince’s touch, but I was unable to speak. My left side was on fire. Astrid’s magic washed over me in a crisscross pattern of white, like the cool sand of an hourglass. I smelled a whiff of mint and book-dust. As the magic settled over me, I felt like I was under glass, preserved for some unknown purpose. It was as suffocating as the ropes of fire on my skin.

“Lui”, I rasped urgently and shook my head. To my dismay, my cheeks were damp; but steam was rising from the left side of my face. “It’s no good, I can’t…”

“Shut up,” he said, and I felt the cold muzzle of a pistol against my temple. “Don’t think you’ll escape me this easily. You pride yourself in enduring hardships for the sake of others. Do it for your own sake, damn it! Or mine, if you must.” He glared down at me – a terrifying sight, yet I was still mesmerized by his sea-green eyes. “I was going to forbid you to die. But you know what? Everyone dies. Everyone leaves. So if you want to die now and spare yourself the pain, just say the word.” The press of the metal was painful now. “Say it!”

“I don’t want to die,” I coughed miserably. “Don’t want to leave.”

“You’re cruel,” Astrid said, her voice tight with concentration. “To ask him that.”

“He knows.” Lui sat on the bed and leaned against the window frame. It must be near morning, but the shadows still lingered. “Hey, what’s that? Witch-girl, something is happening outside.”

“Don’t you know better than to disrupt a witch’s ritual?” Astrid groused. She went to have a look nonetheless. “Oh no. There’s going to be trouble.”

“This isn’t trouble?”             

“It was you.” Her voice was near a growl. “One of you drew them here.”

“Start making sense this instant! What is going on here?”

It took effort to keep my eyes open, but I had to see. Outside it was snowing heavily. Snowflakes hit the window with a tinkling sound. I thought it was pretty, but then the snow started to swirl. Countless snowflakes hit the glass like a shower of silver coins. It felt like we were under attack by some unknown force.

I was afraid because I recognized that tinkling sound.

“I went outside,” I said, forcing the words out. “After dark. And it saw me. Something in the snow.”

I wanted someone to tell me I wasn’t making any sense. That it was just the fever talking. But they didn’t.

“How could you have been so stupid?” she hissed, hands balled into fists.

“How could he have known?” the Prince said, moving between us so I mostly saw his slender back. “You didn’t tell us anything. No warnings. You just wanted to kill us.”

“Just you,” Astrid said brusquely. “But I may change my mind about that! It’s mirror-weather, and Wil must have caught their attention. None have latched on to him, I’d feel that. But now they are drawn to him.”

“Why? Is it just chance?”

“Do you know your servant at all? The mirrors corrupt. And the purest snow turns into the deepest black.”

I didn’t understand all that. What went through my mind was that I had somehow caused this disaster. Wind rattled the gable roof of the inn and made the windows whistle. Faint tremors went through the whole house.

“Are those the ones who turned, then?” the Prince said, pointing at something I couldn’t see.

Astrid nodded. For a moment she was a sad girl who had seen too much. “They are the mirror-touched. Those who live though a mirror-shard pierced their heart. They live in the cold and the dark because they can’t bear to look upon each other. Yet they always find their own.”

I struggled to sit up and grabbed hold of the windowsill. Astrid closed her eyes with a curse, and a wave of fire washed over me. I nearly bit through my lip before her magic caught me again. For a moment, Lui looked like he might hit me, but then propped me up without a word.

I saw shadowy shapes encroaching on the yard, skipping and crawling and skuttling. I saw claws and sharp, black teeth. My mind wanted to shy away from the twisted sight. There was no denying these beings had once been human.

“The dark windows,” I said, my teeth chattering though I felt scalding hot. “The eyes.”

“I know,” the Prince said. “I know.” I thought he would touch me and dreaded the pain; still I was somehow disappointed when he didn’t. His eyes were thoughtful as he stared at the troll-like horde.

The storm shook the building again. Dust fell from the rafters and made us cough.

“My wards are failing,” Astrid said with an eerie calm. “And the house can’t take this kind of a beating for much longer.”

“Then try harder!” the Prince snapped.

“I can’t try harder!” Astrid glowered at him. “I can’t keep your friend alive and ward against the mirror-touched and keep the house standing! There’s not enough magic to go around!”

“We can’t fight them like this,” the Prince said, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “What a bother this town turned out to be.”

Can’t fight with me in this useless state, I thought hazily.

Astrid closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, sparks of magic clung to her eyelashes and fell to her cheeks, leaving sooty stains. “You brought this disaster to our doorstep.” It was no wonder she was skilled with poison; her voice was dripping with it. “You were the ones who stirred up the dark. What do you think I’ll do when forced to choose? Protect my home and my mother, or save a complete stranger who happened to get in my way? I’m not the one who’s got a choice to make, Prince.”

“I don’t like the game you play,” the Prince said flatly.

“It must be frustrating that you can’t just kill me and be done with it. Too bad that would kill your precious Wil, too.”

Both fell silent. One of the windowpanes cracked. A faint hissing and growling echoed from the yard. Slumped against the glass, I saw tiny specks of mirrors dancing in my eyes. The madness outside wanted me.

“I should –“ I began hoarsely.

“No!” Lui and Astrid yelled in a weird concert.

“Do not dare to say anything stupid, or I’ll shoot you.” The Prince’s voice was stormy.

“If you go outside, they’ll eat you up,” Astrid hissed. “I couldn’t care less about your Prince, but I like you. I won’t let you die some stupid, gallant death.”

“Not gallant.” I tried to shake my head, but everything was spinning again. The heat was rising, melting the frost on the window. “Scared.”

“Well, then.” The Prince propped me up against the wall. Had he held me up the whole time? I wondered that as I watched him dress with meticulous care. I should have done that for him. He tied back his hair and put on his green coat. Finally, he buckled his sword belt and checked his pistol. “It looks like I’m going out.”

“Lui?” I said, puzzled. “What are you doing?”

“We can’t let the shadow beasts in. We can’t fight them or let the storm destroy the house. Your new friend Astrid won’t kick you out into the cold, but I don’t think she will be too sad to see the back of me. Isn’t that so?”

“Very true,” she said. “I’ll help your friend. You fix this mess.”

“No,” I protested. “You can’t do this!” But I knew that he could do what he damn well pleased, no matter how I felt about it.

“The mirror-touched are drawn to their kind? Let’s hope you’re right about me, witch-girl. Though it would serve you right if I died and proved you wrong.”

No, no, no. I saw dark spots and fought to stay conscious. “Why’re you allowed… a stupid death…”

Lui flashed me an insolent grin, bright as his hair, as the sun. “Because I’m the Prince. And I’m not going to die.” Then he turned to Astrid. “Three days til the poison wears off, was it?”

She nodded and hesitated for a moment. “My father might still be out there, you know. If you see him…”

The Prince nodded, and I felt they understood each other quite well, after all.

“I’ll see you in three days.”

With a swish of his coat and those words of challenge, he left us.

“That man thinks the world revolves around him,” Astrid muttered as we looked out the window.

“It does,” I whispered.

She glanced at me sideways. I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t claim that he bent the world to his will, that we’d all be here in three days just because he said so. But I knew I’d fight for that to be true.

We watched as the Prince left the inn. The shadows bent to the sway of his lantern. The snowflakes swirled around him like old acquaintances. The mirror-touched parted before him as though frightened or awed. But soon their ranks closed, and we heard a horrible screeching and cackling as the lantern-light was drowned in the darkness. The last I saw of Lui was the fiery red of his hair.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. The white of Astrid’s magic flared. The pressure around my throat eased. I fell on the bed with that final sight a thorn in my heart. It was worse than the fire crawling on my skin. The quiet was deafening. The storm had released us. And somewhere out in the night was my Prince, whom I’d sworn to follow to the ends of the earth.

I lost all sense of time as the poison worked its way through my body. It could have been three days. It could have been an eternity. My mind drifted on currents of memory. The portrait of a child-Prince who never smiled. The way he smiled at me. The reasons never mattered. Foolishness and honesty, cruelty and compassion. There were no mirrors, only us. My waking dreams grew darker as they closed in on the present. Trapped in house of mirrors, our reflection melted into a twisted chimaera. A thin chain pierced its beak, locking it shut. One green and one brown eye stared at me accusingly, like they knew something I didn’t. I wished they’d stop looking.

Astrid stayed with me as the poison burned through my body. The cool threads of her magic never lost their grasp of me. When I was aware of her, I saw that she’d chewed her fingernails to stubs. Her face was grey enough to match her dress. I couldn’t fail someone who worked so hard.

One morning I awoke to the sight of the clear, pearl-gray sky. I was sweaty and shivering, but the pain and delirium were gone. Fading burn-marks snaked up my arm. Hastily, I threw on the only shirt within reach. It had one charred sleeve. I turned to Astrid, who had at last fallen asleep in her chair.

“What day is it?” I said urgently, shaking her shoulder. Fear gave me surprising strength. “Astrid, wake up!”

She opened her eyes slowly and blinked, then brushed off my hand in annoyance. “Oh, you’re alive. Good. I would have been mad at you otherwise.”

“How many days?” I growled, quite unlike myself. My voice was hoarse.

Astrid’s eyes widened. She jumped on the bed and crawled over me to the window, uncaring of my yelp. “It’s been three days. The storm has passed. You’re waiting for your Prince Charming?”

Funny how people kept making that mistake. I looked out the window to the deserted yard. Actually, it wasn’t funny at all. “No. I’m waiting for my Prince.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I was surprised when he marched out into the storm like that. You might not want to get your hopes up. Taking on a horde of the mirror-touched… It’s suicide.”

“Not for Lui,” I said with vehemence. “I mean, Prince Ludwig. He does this sort of thing all the time. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure you know best,” she said. She didn’t believe me at all.

“It’s fine, all right?” I said, staring at the untouched white outside.

Astrid’s hand touched mine briefly. I didn’t like it because it felt too sad. There was nothing to be sad about. But the longer we waited, the worse I started to shiver. Dark thoughts began to circle in my mind. Those shadow-people were something escaped from a fever dream. They felt wrong; something visceral in me told me they weren’t supposed to live. And still, Lui had ventured out because he believed he was like them.

When I at last saw someone approaching the inn, I couldn’t wait any longer. I bolted out of bed and rushed down the stairs. My heart fluttered like a mad butterfly. Astrid yelled something at my back, but there was only one thing, one person I wanted.

I unlatched the bolts and threw the front door open.

It was my Prince.

Prince Ludwig staggered to the yard, leaving an uneven trail in the snow. He cut a razor-sharp figure kept going by determination and spite. His hair was wild and loose; little icicles hung from the frozen ends. There were darkening bruises on his face. His coat had been torn so badly I wasn’t sure I could fix it. To be honest, he looked awful. But his eyes glinted like sharply cut gemstone circled by shadow.

And when he saw me, he smiled. Just a little smile. A mere twitch of his mouth.

I ran to him and caught him in my selfish need to make sure he was real. As he fell against me, I felt him let out a breath. His arms came to rest around my waist, his hands clasped at the small of my back. He radiated cold, but I hardly cared. We were practically embracing in the middle of the yard, and I hadn’t even the sense to be embarrassed.

“You came back,” I said. Alive, alive, alive, my heart kept beating. I couldn’t stop smiling stupidly.

His head rested on my shoulder; I could hear the crackle of the ice in his hair. He huffed against my uncovered neck. “I had to make sure you obeyed my orders. It would be too much trouble to drag you back from some underworld. So don’t you dare ever die.”

I swallowed. He’d really thought of such things. “I’ll do my very best.”

“Good.” Then he lifted his head and gave me an amused look. “You know you aren’t wearing shoes, don’t you?”

I glanced down and blushed. “Oh. I forgot.” I had run out in such a hurry that I hadn’t noticed such an everyday thing. Now I felt the cold burning my bare feet and biting through my thin shirt.

“Come, let’s go inside.” The Prince let go of me and pushed me away, though gently. He’d done that so many times in so many ways, and still I resented it. It was unfair of me. I knew him. I understood that he needed to walk to the inn on his own, aided by no one. All I could do was follow him in and lock the winter out.

Chapter Text

You may have heard tell of the King’s son who feared nothing. He goes out looking for his fear and never finds a damn thing. But in this tale, you must call him the Queen’s son; the king is a sorry son of a bitch. (It’s the truth. Don’t disturb the storyteller.)

It so happens that the Queen’s son comes upon a town beset by monsters. In order to defeat a powerful witch, he agrees to spend three nights in the monsters’ den. He marches there quite happily; he cannot fear, after all. And they are a horde of ugly bastards, all right. They can’t even bear to look upon each other, though occasionally they must feed.

On the first night, the monsters take quite a liking to him. After all, they haven’t seen anything beautiful in a long time. They gather around him and touch his fine clothes with their beaks and claws. But it’s getting crowded, so he brandishes his sword and tells them to keep their distance. Even the gleam of the blade is a wonder to their eyes. A few of them die for it. After that they ignore the Queen’s son for the rest of the night.

On the second night, they hiss and seethe like a boiling kettle. Whatever they see is not so wonderful anymore. The Queen’s son ignores them, but they do not like being ignored. They fall upon him, and some of them die for it. But there are too many of them. They drag him down and beat him and torment him, until at last he fires his pistol and they get scared and scuttle away.

On the third night, they scream and screech their fury. The Queen’s son is exhausted, and they smell blood. When the monsters swarm him, he draws his sword. But there are more of them than ever before. The sword is knocked out of his hand. They beat him within an inch of his life. At last, they think he is lying in a faint, but in truth he is listening to them. Their voices are hungry, and they are close. Through his closed eyelids, he can tell it is almost dawn.

And the Queen’s son picks up his sword.

In the morning, I saw that more snow had fallen. The witch-girl said this was no cause for alarm – it wasn’t storm-snow, after all. I supposed she must know the difference. My Prince was convinced, at least, since he ventured outside with his mug of morning tea still in hand. He looked much like his usual self; had I not tended to him the night before, I might have been fooled.

I was the one who had gingerly peeled off his tattered green coat. I had seen the map of countless nicks and scratches, like something had used tooth and claw to get under his skin. He didn’t complain once, which worried me; he always complained about everything. Afterward, he sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, letting his hair fall over his shoulder to let it dry. There was something terribly lonely about his silence.

As though reading my thoughts, Lui looked up at me. “Come,” he said. An odd, shivery feeling passed through me. Maybe I wasn’t quite recovered yet.

I sat down on my knees, setting two steaming mugs of apple cider between us. The fire felt almost scorching, reminding me uncomfortably of the poison-fever. I glanced at the Prince for some clue of what was expected of me.

“You’re always looking at me,” Lui murmured, gazing at the fire. “Always trying to figure me out.”

I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. Still, he wasn’t wrong. “I’m looking out for you, my Prince.”

“If it was anyone else…” He sighed and rested his chin against his knees. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

I had no clue what he meant by that, but more pressing questions needed answering. “I slept for three days. What happened out there? You seem – tired.”

“You mean I look like hell. Well, I didn’t sleep for three days.” The Prince shrugged. “It was quite boring, really.” The firelight touched the bruises on his face. After a lengthy silence he said, “All right. I have a story for you, but I can’t promise it’s to your liking.”

Lui was right. I didn’t like that tale at all, nor was I satisfied with the ending.

“After the Queen’s son had drawn his sword, he didn’t stop to count the bodies or think that once these beasts had been human.” Lui was staring at me, the storyteller’s distance gone. “He didn’t have to kill them, you know. They always retreated at dawn. But he did it anyway. Such pitiful monsters.”

“Why?” I asked because I knew he expected it. The Prince often felt sympathy for the monsters in the tales.

“Who knows,” Lui said with a strange smile. “Perhaps they were too much like him.”

Whatever he meant by that, I didn’t give a whit about the shadow-beasts. They had dared to touch my Prince.

“Did the beasts care whether they lived or died? Did they care about anything? Because the Queen’s son did. That’s why he walked into the monsters’ den. And they toyed with his life.” I spoke with unusual ferocity. “I won’t forgive them for that.”

The Prince’s mouth quirked in amusement. It made him look a bit more like himself again. “I’ll be sure to pass on your regards.”

I blamed the fire for the heat on my face. “Anyway, in the version of this tale I heard before, there was a lot more healing going on. The King’s son was given a healing draught every morning, while the Queen’s son got nothing. No wonder he was pissed off.”

“Wil, what language,” Lui said, sounding pleased. “I suppose all the healing was going on at your end of the tale.”

“Suppose so.” Now I was feeling guilty. “I wasn’t exactly in a state to stop you from going, you know.”

“As if anyone could have,” Lui said with his usual easy self-assurance. Of course, he was also right. “I did it because I wanted to. I was also curious. What, did you think was going to sacrifice myself?”

Now that he put it to words, it seemed unlikely.

“No, not for a moment,” I answered with a relieved grin. The world would truly have gone mad if that were the case.

“What a foolish notion,” Lui said.

So it was that come morning, I watched the Prince marvel at the glittering garden of snow like nothing perilous had ever happened. He was dressed in the warm, home-spun clothes the innkeep had given him. The red stripes clashed wildly with his hair, while the blue brought out the warm orange. The sight made me smile. Practicality had won over the Prince’s sense of aesthetics for once. If I overlooked the shadows on his face, I could almost believe the whole world had woken up from a dark dream.

“He’s doing this for you, you know,” Astrid said. She had appeared beside me on the porch. “Acting like it’s nothing.”

I glanced at her. “Well, your healing salve did work miracles, or close enough.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said.

However, I wasn’t in a mood for any gloomy tidings. Not on a day like this.

I saw that Lui had forgotten to wear gloves again. I picked up his pair of mittens with a huff and walked up to him. He turned at the sound of the snow crunching under my boots. Whatever I was going to say got caught in my throat. The sliver of sun showing through the clouds illuminated his features. He flashed me a rare, uninhibited smile, one which reached his eyes. There was hair stuck on his face. Dark half-moons still lingered under his eyes. But I had never found him more beautiful.

“You forgot your mittens,” I said at last.

“So I did.” The Prince was staring at me intently, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. The same sun which painted him with unearthly beauty must show all my flaws in its merciless light. It made me want to shrink back. But then Lui said, “What, will you not give them to me after all?”

“Of course.” I swallowed as he held out his hands, expecting me to put them on. I stepped closer and did so. It should have felt childish. I breathed in his familiar smell mixed with wool and smoke and spices, and it felt like home. Some premonition or instinct told me that I should have left then, immediately. But the Prince grasped my wrist and didn’t let go.

“You know, I wanted to talk to you,” he said, like I wasn’t a frightened swallow about to take flight. “You didn’t like my story last night. How rude. Did you prefer your version of the tale?”

I was still reeling from the unexpected closeness. He wanted to talk tales? “I – yes. It had a happy ending.”

“But there’s much in common with both versions of the tale.” Lui’s words spun a delicate web. “For one, fear is the reason both characters set out.”

“And neither of them finds it,” I said haltingly. “Because they are heroes.” Princes, sons of kings and queens, untouchable to the common folk.

“Perhaps the King’s son never did,” said the Prince, “because he was such a blockhead. But the Queen’s son didn’t have to go looking for his fear.”

“Why did he leave, then?” Story and reality became a fumble in my mind. I couldn’t focus. Not when I felt my heartbeat against the Prince’s slender fingers.

“Fear was what made him go.”

I stared wide-eyed as Lui brushed up the sleeve of my coat and shirt, exposing the burn-marks curling up my arm. He eyed them with distaste. To my astonishment, he then bowed and placed a soft kiss on my wrist. The quick brush of warmth left me bewildered.

“Lui, what’s this?” I said, incapable of anything but honesty.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” the Prince said, quirking an eyebrow. That was familiar; the light in his eyes was not. “I thought it rather obvious.”

Not to me, it wasn’t.

“Are you… courting me?” I said haltingly.

I knew I wasn’t clever or cunning. Everyone knew I wore my heart in my sleeve, and that’s why I had learned to protect it. I was content. I was all right with small dreams. I’d locked away any impossible wishes because they looked an awful lot like this.

“I suppose so,” the Prince said with a quiet laugh. I realised I’d rarely heard him laugh at all. “Although that would be a very long courtship indeed. I think we are a bit father along the road, don’t you think?”

My mind was a-whirl. The light reflecting off the snow was blinding. I didn’t know what to do with any of this. Wherever he went, Lui changed things, yet somehow I had thought myself an exception.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to go,” I said, desperately trying to steer the world back on its course. “You’re supposed to find a bride with exact dimensions! What have we been travelling for all this time, if not for that?”

Lui gave me an exasperated look. “Father kicking me out was a stroke of luck. Why do you think I had all those ridiculous requirements? I never wanted a bride in the first place.”

Then all my hard work had been in vain. And that was – good, which was confusing to say the least.

“There’s a Princess at the end of every tale,” I said helplessly, too stubborn to believe in my own luck. “Or a commoner pretty enough to become one. We’ve lived through countless stories, and that’s how it always goes.” There was no place for someone who was simply common.

“You’re lucky I’m glad to be alive,” Lui snapped. “I’ve never met someone so against his own interests! Unless you aren’t interested, of course, which would surprise me greatly.” Still, he let go of my wrist, which made me immediately feel a sense of loss.

“It’s not that…” I said, grasping for words. If I tried to guard my heart, Lui had convinced a kingdom he lacked one entirely. This was simply unbelievable. Something that didn’t even happen in a fairy tale.

“Is this to do with your obsession with Princesses? Let us finish the tale, then.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You know the story of the King’s son. In the end, he gets the oh so ugly Princess, who turns into a blond beauty once the monsters are beaten. Quite a reward.”

“And the Queen’s son?” I asked despite myself.

“I knew you had a thing about this. Well, the Queen’s son gets his own raven beauty, and there is no need for that person to change into anything. He was good enough in the first place.” Lui smiled a little. “Should the Queen’s son get a reward, that is.”

“You talk too much,” I said hoarsely. No one had ever talked about me like that. “Do you really mean all that?”

“Wil, you fool,” he sighed. “I chose you long ago.”

“Me too,” I said, and amended, “You, I mean. Back then.”

“Masochist that you are,” the Prince said, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“It’s no hardship – well, that’s not true.”

“Honest to a fault. I do hope you can stand me.”

Lui smiled at me, a smile I’d never seen before, though I’d counted them all like treasure. The Prince looked oddly young in his borrowed clothes, at odds with his courtly bearing. He held out his hand in an elegant gesture.

“Will you follow me?” Lui asked simply.

“Yes,” I said, and the single word dissolved a deep ache in me. “On every road we’ll ever travel.”

In the split moment I recognised the new thing in his smile: hope.

I took the Prince’s hand and let him pull me to him, into his embrace. His presence was intoxicating; I was not aware of anything else in the world. He held his palm against my cheek – I noticed distantly that he’d taken off his gloves again, but I merely leaned into the touch of his bare skin. His thumb swept along my cheekbone. I met his blue-green eyes and saw in them someone worth treasuring.

“Lui,” I said, my hands moving in nonsensical patterns along his shoulder blades. My only thought was to hold on as best I could. “You must know that I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since forever.” And still saying it out loud made all the difference.

“That’s good,” Lui said. “Because otherwise this would be awkward.”

He leaned in to kiss me, or perhaps we met in the middle. I had kissed his hand in deference; he had laid a kiss on my wrist. The rush I felt now was nothing like that. Lui’s lips were soft and warm against mine, his hand was buried in my unruly hair, mine were crossed at the back of his neck. When we had to stop for a breath of the cold air, laughter escaped and pealed towards the sky. Then we came together again and it was like the continuation of one ceaseless kiss, turning more intimate by the moment. The simple joy of being close to him was incredible, pressed close enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest and feel the puff of air when we had to breathe.

We were chilled but warmed to the core when Lui pulled back a little. His lips were as red as apples in some tales, distracting and inviting.

His words were serious and utterly certain. “I love you, William. Stay with me. Let us be fools together.”

That made me happier than I’d ever thought possible. Every forbidden wish flew out of the box and winked at me. For a shining moment, the world was wide and full of possibilities.

But then Lui drew a sharp breath. He pushed me away forcefully, and I watched in horror what followed. He bent over, his breathing ragged, convulsing as though something was trying to pull him apart from the inside. He panted harshly, clearly trying to swallow any sounds, and his fingers clawed senselessly at his clothes.

“Stay away!” Lui snarled as I dared to move.

In the same breath, a violent, animal scream was torn from his throat. I wish I could forget the pained sounds that followed. To my alarm, a dark stain spread on the front of his tunic. Then, like a puppet manipulated by strings, he bent backwards and I saw something shimmering pushing through the fabric. I realised a large mirror shard had cut through his flesh. Droplets of red spattered on the snow like berries. At last the Prince fell on his knees like the strings had been cut.

I ran to him, but he was almost incoherent. Struggling to breathe, he was clawing at his chest and cutting his fingers on the shard. The sight of the mirror shard protruding from his chest elicited a strangled sound, like mad laughter bitten down. He spat more red on the snow. I knelt by him and held him by his shoulders. I don’t know which of us I was trying to calm down.

“There’s something in my eye,” Lui said calmly. That only made it more frightening. He rubbed at his left eye forcefully until tears ran down his face.

“Stop that!” I cried out. “Let me have a look, at least!”

That got through to him. He stared at me with wild, reddened eyes. As he did, his body started to shake and the tears flowed freely. There must have been years’ worth of them; I didn’t remember seeing him cry. Then I saw it: a glint of silver in his left eye, washed out by the tears. It clung to his eyelashes like a cursed jewel.

“Please don’t blink,” I told him, my own voice wavering. “Just stay still.”

He did as asked, though I could tell it took great effort. Somehow I was able to keep my hand steady and picked the tiny speck of a mirror from his eye. Not knowing what to do with it, I wrapped it in my handkerchief.

“Oh,” the Prince said upon seeing the piece. “It was there all along.” Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the snow.

“It’s as I thought,” Astrid said. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

She had ordered me briskly to carry the Prince inside and lay him on the bed, never mind the blood-soaked snow. The girl had helped me strip him and parted his shirt, revealing the disturbing sight in full. I felt faint myself, but I noticed she was reluctant to touch him.

“Of course I knew,” the Prince said. Startled, I withdrew my hand from his brow. When had he regained consciousness? “That’s why I went out there to see the mirror-touched for myself. To make certain. But it looks like I needn’t have bothered.”

Lui coughed a bit and grimaced. He stared down at the mirror-shard protruding from his chest. Though we’d cleaned the wound, blood still welled up sluggishly in time with his heartbeat. He touched it curiously, like tracing an old scar.

“Don’t.” My voice was choked. I was afraid he’d try to pick it out like a scab and bleed to death, or worse.

He glanced at me, and I was struck with the range of emotion I saw.

“Why now?” he asked, anger crackling right under the surface. I knew to fear this quiet rage the most. “Why now, when I must have been living with this curse for years?”

“I don’t know how you survived unchanged for so long, when no one else did.” Astrid met the Prince’s anger with her serious, blue-gray gaze. “But the mirror shard is lodged in your heart. There is no question about it. Somehow you lived on with a lump of ice for a heart. My guess is that something happened which made your cold heart swell. Now it’s trying to push the mirror shard out.”

I blushed even as I felt a new wave of anguish. The Prince was in pain because of me, and still I worried about the most trivial things. The magic of that moment had been broken so thoroughly that I feared it was all my fancy. Maybe he had come to his senses and decided I wasn’t what he wanted, like I’d been telling him all along.

“You saw us out in the yard, didn’t you?” Lui asked matter-of-factly. “Well, then you know.”

“Good for you,” she said. “Or perhaps not. I’m not sure if I should congratulate you or offer my condolences.”

“Anyway,” I interrupted before they had a chance to embarrass me further, “I want to know what this means. Is it not a good thing to be rid of the shard?”

“Remember that I’ve never seen anything like this,” Astrid said, looking the Prince in the eye. “But the mirror has burrowed itself into your heart. I’m afraid that moving the shard would kill you.”

“I see,” Lui said after a breath of silence. “Or it will come out on its own, and I’ll die anyway.”

“It’s a possibility.”

That was not acceptable. I grasped the Prince’s hand and interlaced our fingers brazenly.

“No,” I said. “There must be a way. There always is!”

I expected Lui to say something, but he was breathing shallowly with his eyes half-closed. His tight hold of my hand told me he was in pain. His fingers were awfully cold.

“Really?” Astrid said, somehow incensed. “Have you been living life or some charmed fairy tale? Sometimes there is nothing you can do, and you can’t but accept it!”

“Well, I refuse!” I said. “You don’t know the cruelty of fairy tales. You don’t know us. Besides, don’t you use magic and fight to protect your home instead of  accepting your fate? You’re even ready to murder travellers who’d never hurt you!”

“I had never done that before, just so you know!” she snapped at me. “Because I had never met anyone like him! And that’s why I can’t help you now. Believe me, if I knew how to destroy this curse I would have done it, even at the cost of my life.”

“Then you know how I feel,” I said, glancing at the Prince. His left eye was a cloudy green, still irritated from earlier.

“Astrid,” Lui said, his voice controlled again. “I can’t see very well. Is there something wrong with my left eye?”

“What?” Astrid rushed to his side, apprehension forgotten for the moment. “Oh, yes. You had a piece in your eye, too. Seems like it’s gone. But… Close your right eye for me, will you? Tell me what you see.”

Lui looked annoyed but did so. “Shapes. Twilight. Silver strands.” The Prince flicked the mirror shard in his chest and flinched. He shook his head, refusing to look at me. “I don’t like seeing anyone or anything like this.”

He opened his eyes and glanced at me, as though assuring himself I was still me.

But there was a new light in Astrid’s eyes. “There might be a chance. Something I thought of just now. It’s a fool’s hope, but…”

“We’re a pair of fools, so please, let’s hear it!” I said vehemently. Then I realised how presumptuous that was, and also that I’d insulted my Prince.

“I couldn’t have put it any better than sweet William,” Lui said. He could be on his deathbed and still be utterly impossible.

“As long as you’re aware of it,” Astrid muttered. Then she grew serious. “The only way to get rid of the mirror shard is to break the curse. So you need to find the person who cast the curse. In this case, the faery who was the merchant of mirrors.”

“Sounds pretty standard this far.”

“Listen! No one has been able to find him; he disappeared into thin air. It is said he fled to the far north, where he lives in his fortress of ice. But I wonder…”

“If my newfound evil eye could find him?” the Prince interrupted.

“You are a very rude person,” Astrid remarked.

“It must be the curse. You think I might be able to see his trail.”

“Who knows what the mirror speck did to your eye? Or its removal, for that matter. I’ve never met anyone who managed that. You can see things others don't. Can you see a path to him?”

“Perhaps.” The Prince covered his right eye with his hand. “There’s a concentration of silver leading somewhere. The strands weave together. There is a direction we could follow. But I can’t tell what lies at the end.”

He blinked furiously again to banish whatever sight agitated him.

“That’s it,” Astrid said, full of excitement. “That must be it! The mirror-touched are connected to the faery. If anyone can find him, it is you.”

I had a hundred questions, such as how to defeat a malicious faery; how to survive in the far north; and how were we going to get there. Lui, however, did not waste any time on such trivial matters.

“Excellent! Then we’ll be on our way. Wil, pack our things.”

“Now wait a moment. Can you even move in that state?” Astrid snapped. “How are you going to go gallivanting about the north, finding faeries?”

“Isn’t it more dangerous for me to stay?” the Prince said pointedly. “I might die or turn into a shadow-beast. I don’t think I have time to spare. And you don’t want me here if I run out of time.”

Every word was a needle through my recently bared heart. “That’s not going to happen. I swear it, my Prince.”

The fond, exasperated look I got was almost painful. “Be careful what you swear. Though I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Still, I’m coming with you.”

“Did neither of you hear a word of what I just said? You are both impossible!” Astrid swore.

Lui gave her an arch look, not in the least ruined by his general state of dishevelment. “You have seen nothing yet, witch-girl.”

“Will you be all right here on your own?” I asked Astrid. We were sitting on horseback in front of the Snow Rose inn, all packed up and ready to leave. I felt unusually restless, and my chestnut mare sensed it, stepping nervously under me.

“I’ve done it in the past and will do so in the future,” the witch replied sternly. “Though you were an amusing diversion.”

“I am glad we managed to amuse you,” the Prince said. I knew he would have offered a mocking bow, had he not been mindful of his wound.

Lui appeared quite roguish with the new eyepatch covering his left eye. I had sewn it out of the embroidered fabric cut from his old vest. This had greatly lifted his spirits, and he’d actually swept me into a kiss like a true rogue – though a very careful one.

All the rest was hidden under layers of clothing and patched up as best we could; but we could do nothing about the two inches of mirror sticking out from his flesh like a curved blade. Lui claimed he could move about just fine once he’d got used to it. I doubted the truth of this and was glad when Astrid pressed her pain-reducing herb mixture on him.

“One never knows. You might prove useful yet,” Astrid said. She must have thought so, or she wouldn’t have provided us with what we needed for the road. To be precise, she had told her mother we were explorers heading off to the great, unknown north. The method was somewhat dishonest but effective. It reminded me once more that she was quite dangerous in her own right.

“That reminds me. In case we get sidetracked,” Lui rummaged in his pocket, “I was going to give you this.” He pulled out a blackened silver locket in a broken chain. “It belongs to you, does it not?”

Astrid accepted the locket and opened it. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it. “This is me,” she whispered. “When I was but ten years old.” She looked up at the Prince.

“I found him,” Lui said. Nothing more.

"Why did you wait until now to give me this?"

"I thought it a fair exchange. You gave me back something of value, after all."

"You waited to make sure I kept my word? You are such a selfish man. I gave you back your Wil, yet I still have nothing." Astrid closed her fist around the necklace so tightly I feared it might break. “Find that faery. Get rid of him for good.”

“We will,” the Prince said with absolute conviction. When he got like this, I truly believed he could do anything.

Lui spurred his horse on. My horse was keen to follow. We rode out into the wide, white world with nothing but a mystical path as our guide. In other words, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Only the stakes were much higher.

Our travels took us through woods and across hill and plain, until we could see a great mountain range in the distance. All the while the weather grew colder, and I had to bundle up in every scrap of clothing I could find. The Prince claimed not to feel the cold, but he did not look it. He sat stiffly in the saddle, his face almost as white as snow, his lips the blue of shadows on the snow. We’d not found decent shelter in two days.

“Are you certain of this, my Prince?” I asked as we trudged up the rocky mountain path. I had to shout against the howling wind.

We’d taken a roundabout way getting here. There had been other mountains. Other paths. But the silver path Lui saw was a live thing, twisting and turning like a serpent. I had half a mind to think we were being lured to our deaths. The Prince swore that this jagged mountain peak was the one.

Lui tugged his eyepatch out of the way and stared into the storm with what he kept calling his evil eye. “We are still on the path. It leads on, round and round up the mountain, into the dark – and something after that. I can’t see any more. Damn it, I can’t see!” He ground his fist against his eye.

I caught his fist in my palm. It wasn’t the first time his frustrations had welled over. “Stop that. It doesn’t help.” I kissed the back of his gloved hand, unmindful of the rough wool. His hand felt startlingly cold even through the mitten.

The gesture must gave done some good, because Lui sighed and pulled the eyepatch back on. “At least we’re heading in the right direction. I want to be done with this. That faery doesn’t know what hit him when I’m through with him!”

However, the weather did not care about bold declarations. The snow piled high on the uneven path. Soon I had to admit our horses could go no further. The poor animals had been struggling long enough. That left us with two options.

“You’re thinking of letting the horses go,” Lui said almost into my ear. His breath was as chilly as the wind. “The only question is, do you go with them?”

“What?” I didn’t even understand at first.

“I can’t turn back. I have no choice but to go on. But you are under no obligation to follow me to your death. Do you understand?”

“It’s you who doesn’t!” I spat out, incensed beyond belief. “What do you take me for? I said I would follow you on any road. There doesn’t even need to be a road! What does it take to make you believe me?”

“It is hard because you are unbelievable!”

This was no place for a quarrel. “Lui, I’m not following you because of duty, or money, or the crown you ditched. I’m following you because I love you more than is good for either of us!”

He looked oddly apprehensive for a moment, but then simply nodded. I thought I saw a whisper of a smile. “You’re right. More often than you know.”

“Right. So we go on.”

“Right,” he said so quietly I barely heard it.

We dismounted and gathered what belongings we thought necessary. There was no way to prepare, really. Who knew what awaited us at the end of this journey? Still, I did my best. It was all I could do.

“I hope they find their way home,” I said as we watched the horses go. “Any home, as long as it’s good.”

Then I noticed that the Prince was swaying on his feet. His lips were pressed tightly together, but he held his hand against his breast again. A dark stain was seeping through all the layers of clothing.

“Lui!” I hastened to his side. “It’s getting worse. How long has this continued?”

“For a while,” he said airily, like it was nothing. “But I think the shard moved just now. You might want to hold back any sudden declarations. My poor heart might not be able to take it. Ah, I think I was better off when believed I didn’t have one.”

“Right now – and you still let the horses go!”

“I knew you’d be difficult if I told you.” He straightened his back and removed his hand. Frost had already gathered around the stain. “There’s really no turning back now. That’s how I wanted it. But it’s not what I wanted for you.”

“You don’t have any choice about that,” I said. He was impossible and he made my heart ache, but I’d always known that. “Now we better get moving, unless you want to freeze where you stand.”

There was no point in questioning the wisdom of this. The Prince had decided to follow his silver path, even if he had to climb up a mountain while wounded and bleeding. For a sensible person, I had never had any sense when it came to him.

We made our way slowly up the spiralling path. I stared at the violet-grey clouds overhead when I didn’t have to keep my eyes on my feet. It was still snowing. The path grew more perilous the higher we came.

“Damn this,” Lui swore as he stumbled forward. He’d been starting to fall behind for some time now, but hadn’t said a word about it.

Without prompting, I placed his arm on my shoulders. “Better?” I asked.

He nodded. “You’re warm,” he said, though how he could feel it through our clothes I didn’t know. “We can go on.”

But despite his determination, it soon proved impossible. The snowstorm tore at our clothes and threatened to throw us off the mountain like paper dolls. It was like a giant guardian spirit. I imagined I saw shapes in the air – animal faces and clawing hands. I don’t know what the Prince saw, but he kept his eyepatch firmly in place.

“We have to get out of this!” I shouted. “Can you see any shelter at all?”

He lifted his eyepatch with stiff fingers, his back to the wind. After a moment, he pointed out a hollow a little way further up the mountain. “Something over there. An outcropping, a cave. Feels safe. But it’s on the path, one of the strands.”

“Let’s worry about that when we’re not about to fly off the mountain!”

Lui’s vision proved to be right. We found a small cave facing away from the wind. It was strangely quiet now that we were out of the punishing storm. There was nothing more sinister about the cave than a smattering of animal bones. The Prince sagged against the wall and slid down as soon as I let go of him to light a lantern. In its yellow glow, he looked more dead than alive.

“It’s all right,” Lui said unclearly. “I can’t feel much. Doesn’t even hurt.”

“That’s not good at all! Stay awake for me, please.” I tried to glare at him, but his eyes were slipping shut. His eyelashes were frozen. I felt the chill of his skin with my bare hand and grew truly afraid. Until then I had perhaps thought that the Prince would solve everything miraculously. Now it was up to me.

I had no way of keeping him warm. We had no firewood. All our things were damp or frozen. I wasn’t prone to despair, but I came very close. I felt I understood people who made stupid bargains and got themselves cursed.

There had to be something I could do. Anything at all. I refused to accept anything else. When I looked at my Prince in such a battered state, anger coursed through my veins like wildfire. This was not fair. This was not right. Suddenly I was warm, almost too warm. The knife-scar on my palm prickled uncomfortably.

I wasn’t about to question this stroke of luck. I took off what wet layers I could and did the same for Lui. His bloody coat I didn’t dare touch. He watched me with drowsy interest as I sat beside him by the wall.

“Come here,” I told him.

Lui caught on quickly enough and moved to lean against me, his back against my chest. He let out a surprised noise at the warmth. A little steam rose from his wet clothes. I twined our fingers together to drive out the chill.

“Wil, I never knew you had it in you,” Lui said with a hint of his old wickedness. “Seizing the opportunity like this. I quite like it.”

I realized belatedly how I was cradling him in my arms. My only thought had been to warm him up. Now I had all kinds of other, distracting thoughts. It was all his fault as usual.

“Shut up, my Prince,” I said.

Any other remarks died as he burrowed against me like it was the most natural thing in the world. After a moment, his breathing eased. I could tell he was falling asleep. Perhaps it didn’t hurt as long as I watched over him. As long as I didn’t fall asleep, everything would be all right. As long as I didn’t sleep…

I dreamt of flight and laughter in the wind.

I woke up with a great sense of disorientation. For a moment, I couldn’t tell up from down. Then came the realization that I was cold, truly cold. Finally came the sinking feeling that I had fallen asleep and awoken somewhere else.

My cheek was pressed against cold iron, which made me think of dungeons and sent chills down my spine. When I struggled upright, I saw to my astonishment that the floor wasn’t of iron but of perfect, polished ice. My hands slid along the gleaming surface. I caught myself and cast a look around and up, and my heart sank.

I was in a cage. A cage made of ice. The bars curved up above me like those of a birdcage, decorated by flowers of little icicles. It was perfect in every aspect; there was even a sturdy lock carved of ice. Meek daylight filtered in through the see-through ceiling.

I got carefully to my feet and gripped one of the bars. It was burning cold, and I let go with a startled cry.

“Your pet is awake,” said a voice at once melodious and grating like crushed glass. Somehow I heard it inside my head. “Does it not know the rules?”

I spun around to see a vast hall. Everything was glittering white and shining ice, like winter had moved in and claimed the place for its own. I was bizarrely reminded of the palaces we had visited during our travels. But the host of this one was unlike any I had ever seen.

The faery – for it could be no one else – was reclining in a chair, his legs thrown carelessly over the armrest. His frosty hair spread on the floor, and his nails were very long. To call him white would have been a lie; he was devoid of colour like a being born of ice. Mirrors glittered and shifted in his fine clothes like fish-scales whenever he moved. It was as if his mirrors collected all the light in the room and left none for others. Perhaps that was why his presence was heavy.

But my attention was torn away when I saw who stood in the faery’s shadow.

“Lui!” I cried out, and then: “My Prince”, when he didn’t show any sign of having heard me. Was he under the faery's spell? The Prince stood rigid as a statue, clad in white finery – but it was only frost covering every inch of him. He was painted with snow and twilight and a tiny smattering of red which still clung to his hair. His face was a cold moon in the dim light. I couldn’t make out his eyes. Suddenly I was desperate for that.

The faery clicked his sharp nails against the throne. “I don’t like this one. There are no Princes here,” he said. “No Monarchs, or Seneschals, or Tyrants – no one but me.”

With an elegant gesture, the faery pointed a finger at me. The air froze in my lungs. It was like trying to breathe through a block of ice. I fell to my knees, and the cold followed. It nailed my hands to the floor and spread through my limbs, rooting me in place. I couldn’t even scream. My only senseless thought was that I didn’t think I’d go to my death this quietly.

“Please,” I thought I heard someone say, flat and emotionless.

The pressure in my lungs eased at once. I took great, heaving breaths and raised my head. The faery had turned to Lui and regarded him curiously. The Prince remained standing with his arms crossed.

“Oh? Are you asking something of Master Truthspinner? Come on, come closer.”

The Prince came to stand by the throne, and the faery reached up to toy with a frozen strand of his hair. It broke with a tiny sound. The faery smiled, showing a row of dangerous teeth.

“I have given you a great many things, you know. I fixed that sad lump of a heart you had, and none too soon! Soon it will be frozen through and through. Then we can have some fun. I’ve given you clothes and my best jewels. You can’t say I’m a bad host; what more could you possibly want?”

The Truthspinner’s words filled me with dread, but the Prince showed none. “I want you to let him go. You have me. What more could you want?”

The faery’s smile was just a little too wide.

“I like this game! You must learn to play a little better, though. I want you to ask me properly.”

“You’ll let him go?” There was a hint of doubt in the Prince’s voice.

“I never lie, you know. I promise to free him.” The faery looked expectant. “Now, wasn’t there something you were supposed to do?”

With surprising fluid grace, the Prince knelt in front of the throne. I stared in astonishment as he bowed his head.

“Please let him go. He is of no consequence. Why do you need others when you have me?”

The Truthspinner seemed very pleased with this, though he pretended to ponder it, one long nail pressed against his lower lip.

“And remind me again, what exactly are you to me?”

“Your servant,” the Prince said, still looking down in deference.

“Oh, all right,” the Truthspinner said, and the spell trapping me melted away. “I don’t wish to lie. Sometimes I do have servants.”

He pointed at the walls with a spiralling motion. The throne room was lined with statues. Upon closer look, they were not statues in the usual sense. I made out humans and animals and other beings trapped in ice. Their features were caught in surprise, fear or agony. I shuddered at how close I’d come to joining them.

“Well?” said the Prince with a hint of impatience. “You promised to let him go.”

The faery smiled down at him. “And I kept my word. I freed him of my spell.”

“That isn't what I meant, and you know it!” the Prince ground out.

“But it was what I said. Oh, this is fun! We’ll play such games yet, my – what was it again? Say it again. It sounds so nice when you do.”

I took a shaky step closer to the bars. This being had no intention of releasing either of us. The Prince must know it as well, but his posture was remarkably calm. To anyone who didn’t know him, that was.

He raised his head and looked the Truthspinner in the eye.

“Why, I’m your most trusted, loyal servant.”

Quicker than thought, the Prince drew his sword and tried to run the faery through. As he struck, the air around the Truthspinner shimmered, and it was as though the blade had met solid stone. The sword shattered like glass with a bright, piercing note.

The Truthspinner seemed to grow in size, or perhaps my fear clouded my sight. He towered over the Prince and dealt him a terrible backhand blow, which sent him tumbling on the floor. The frozen sword handle fell out of his grasp and rolled away. The Prince lay sprawled on the floor where he fell, not too far from me. I caught a glimpse of his stunned green eyes.

The faery walked to him with the slow steps of a predator sure of its prey. He caught the Prince by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up as easy as a kitten. The walls and ceiling shook, and a wind rose out of nowhere to howl around the room.

“Now you’ve made me angry,” the Truthspinner growled. Suddenly, he wasn’t that beautiful anymore. The mirrors were petty baubles covering something old and dark, far beyond human understanding. It gave me a headache to look at him. No wonder his mirrors were all twisted.

The faery threw the Prince in one of the empty cages. With a wave of his hand, the door slammed shut. A sturdy lock froze into being.

“I can’t stand to look at you,” the faery declared. He snapped his fingers, and his form shimmered and disappeared. With that the wind died down.

I waited for agonizing moments before I believed him truly gone. Then I called out to the Prince.

“Lui! Are you all right?” His cage was next to mine, but I couldn’t see him when he was lying down. “I think the faery’s gone. Say something!”

“Quiet,” the Prince hissed. “My head’s about to split.”

I was greatly relieved just to hear him complain. After some time, he managed to sit up and felt gingerly at his jaw. “Feels like the damn thing’s broken. That didn’t go quite as planned.”

“I thought it was heroic,” I ventured, and he huffed and didn’t quite meet my eyes.

“Glad you approve. However, we are still stuck here, so it was all for nothing.”

I looked closely at the Prince. He appeared and sounded better when the faery wasn’t here, but that wintery aspect still clung to him. “What happened? How long was I out of it?”

“Long enough.” Lui brushed frosty hair out of his face. “It seems all mirror-mad creatures are fond of me – entirely understandable, of course…” He trailed off. “Anyway, I’m not dying anymore. I don’t think so, at least. But I’m not sure this is any better. I’m cold on the inside, now. And it’s growing colder.”

I swallowed. He sounded lost. “Will your heart still shatter if I say the wrong things?”

“Better not risk it,” Lui said seriously.

“We have to get out of here before the faery returns.” Or before something terrible happened anyway.

He pointed at the bars. “Good luck with – oh, hell.” His face twisted, and I saw thin, white veins spreading on his cheek. They glinted in the sparse light.

“How bad is it?” I said flatly. “Tell me the truth.”

He took a few deep breaths. “It’s been going on since the faery collected us. Every time this heart beats, it spreads a little further. I suppose I’ll become like him in the end.”

“You are not giving up!” My frayed patience finally snapped. “You never give up, and you’re not going to start now!”

“What do you know about that?” Lui said quietly. He sounded frighteningly sensible. No, resigned. “I might have given up any number of times along the years. You don’t really know me at all, do you?”

I stared at him in disbelief. Everything about that was wrong.

“It’s easy to say things I know will hurt you,” he said with a frown. “But it’s hard to summon any feeling. Fear, anger – I can’t quite manage them. Yet a while ago I was angry enough to want to kill. How curious.”

I was not calm. This place was going to destroy us. It was already stealing Lui from me. I had no problem with anger – I was seething with it. I grabbed the bars of the cage with both hands and wrenched them violently.

“We are not dying here,” I growled. “I love you, and I’m not letting you go, no matter what!”

I felt the cold burn of the bars, but something was a bit off. Steam rose from my right hand. Startled, I let go. When I opened my fist, I saw a small flame dancing on my palm. The burn marks along my arm were glowing, though the fire did not burn me. But the bar I had touched had nearly melted through.

“Wil,” Lui said, sounding as surprised as I was. “How long have you been able to work magic?”

“That’s what this is?” I said, staring at the fire. “It must be the remains of Astrid’s magic. Never mind that, I can get us out of here!”

Melting the locks was the easiest way to get free of the cages. I helped Lui to his feet, and we headed for the side door he had found earlier. The faery had showed him around a bit, wanting to boast about its grand palace.

“That’s the way down,” Lui said. “There are stairs leading all the way down the mountain, and countless abandoned halls besides. You don’t want to see all that. But if there is a way out, it's this.”

He traced the cold surface of the door. There was no lock or handle. To my dismay, my flame didn’t work on the door however hard I tried.

“Now what?” I asked, shaking my hand. It had begun to prickle with the heat after all. I was aware that quite a lot of time had passed, and there was no way of telling when the faery might return.

“It’s no good.” Lui leaned against the wall with a sigh. He could almost have faded into the white. “I tried this before, you know. It's the Door of Disappearance - but it can't be opened. The faery asked me to try it, because he was too satisfied with his riddle…”

Riddles? I perked up. “What exactly did that thing tell you? The Truthspinner doesn’t lie, right?”

“Yes. As helpful as that is,” Lui said, sounding annoyed. He was probably none too happy about falling for the faery’s trick. “But have your riddle, if you must:

This door can be opened by nothing and no one.

Not much of a riddle, if you ask me.”

“Not really,” I said, grinning despite myself. I had always been good at this sort of thing. The faery must think himself awfully clever. “I think even I might have a chance, no one that I am.”

The Prince turned to stare at me. Had the situation not been so dire, I would have been pleased by his surprise.

“There’s absolutely nothing I can use on the door, either.” I touched the smooth door and said, “I am no one. I have nothing. And you should open for me.”

The door swung silently inwards.

We looked at each other and in quiet understanding ventured down the long, long flight of stairs into darkness.

After what felt like an eternity, we heard a great rumbling from above. Something screamed its fury; it must be the faery tearing down everything in its path. The sound of splintering stone and ice made me cover my ears. The walls of the mountain trembled. Finally, the noises died down with a deafening crash. The discordant notes of shattering ice faded away. We held our breath on the rickety stairs, but nothing followed us. I felt lighter somehow, like something had released its hold of me. I fought the urge to laugh for fear I might not be able to stop. Had the faery actually destroyed itself in a fit of temper?

In the light of my small flame, I saw Lui smile. Droplets of water ran down his face. The veins of ice were gone.

“You know, I believe I feel much better,” he said. "I can finally see you."

And if we kissed unwisely on the perilous stairs and tears mixed with water in the dark – well, no one needed to know but us.

The magic didn't go away.

We were in our old room at the Snow Rose Inn, back after a day spent at the winter solstice festival. I enjoyed the burst of life and colour in the once dreary town. I had jokingly bought ribbons for the Prince's hair; he got me a candied apple which stuck to my teeth and stained my lips, so he simply had to kiss it better. I was still not used to the idea that he liked to show me off, when he was the one with all the flash and flair. Well, it was not like I minded. As long as he didn't attempt to dress me, everything was all right in my world.

The shadows were gone. When the sun came out, I could almost pretend I liked the play of light on the newly fallen snow.

Lui hadn't been fooled, of course. He very chivalrously claimed a headache and insisted that we return to the inn at once. But once we had closed the door to our room, his headache dissipated at once. I found myself pinned against the door and kissed to within an inch of my life.

I had learned quickly that I could not win against the Prince in these games without resorting to underhanded means - and even then it was a rare day when I could take him by surprise. That was why I was so pleased when he glanced up at his bound hands and said, "Oh, so that's what the festival ribbons were for."

"Don't worry. I spared some for your hair."

"Touching," Lui said with a smirk. "Now, why aren't you touching me?"

That wasn't quite fair considering our state of undress; knowing his wardrobe inside out had its merits. I was also currently straddling him. But why should I not indulge him? I smiled down at Lui and held out my hand. A little flame crackled into being. 

His breath caught as it always did at my show of magic. The fire seemed to be a part of me, after all. Something about it mesmerized him endlessly. A row of tiny flames rippled along my forearm - a trick I had learned recently.

"So tell me," I said, leaning over him to whisper into his ear. "How exactly should I touch you? You know I need very precise orders."

Lui cursed at me. I kissed the curses out of his mouth. And eventually we made love, just as sweet and heated as he wanted. The bedsheets were only slightly singed in the process.

"I love you, you bastard," Lui told me afterwards, when he was still drunk on my touch. "You're too good to me. Learn some selfishness, damn it."

"Nothing's too good for you," I said and smiled a secretive smile.

After all, I was only doing what I did best.