Snow Bites

Chapter Fifteen

"Should we go home, Ansel?" Grimhelde asked the raven resting on the windowsill. His feathers blended in with the dark clouds behind him. A storm had been brewing all day. Lightning flashed over the mountains in the distance. Something about the darkening sky redoubled her foul mood.

As usual, Ansel's only answer was a drawn out croak. He'd responded less and less to her calls over the week since Eirwen's death. It was as if he could feel her regret and chose to throw it in her face. His silent tantrum reminded her of when Eirwen would beg to go into town and the subsequent whining when Grimhelde said no.

How she'd ever said no to the little princess was beyond her. Often, Eirwen would fix her big brown eyes on her stepmother and puff out her lower lip. It never took long for Grimhelde to give in to the pleading after that. At least, she gave in until she realized Eirwen had been using a gentle form of compulsion to make Grimhelde do what she asked. For a child who hadn't turned to be able to compel an adult was a sign of her latent abilities waiting to burst forth.

She waved Ansel off and sighed when he flew out the window. "Leave me alone, just like all the rest." Grimhelde shut the window and started to turn away. A distant glow pulled her attention back.to the window. This wasn't lightning. It stayed low to the ground and bobbed like a chicken wandering down the winding road to the castle.

The light drew steadily nearer but the forest and hills kept its source out of sight. Grimhelde turned to the mirror and pulled its magic to the front. Slowly, an image appeared against the dark glass surface. The glow she could see solidified into a crowd of townsfolk headed straight for her. They looked calm though suspicious of the winding trail.

Long ago, before Grimhelde had made her move against the queen, they'd come to the castle often. Vendors brought samples of their wares hoping to find a part in the upcoming celebrations. Dressmakers and weavers paraded delicate fabrics for use in the castle and especially for the queen's personal use. The castle hadn't been a mysterious place then, but instead a beacon of excitement and security.

When Grimelde had moved in and slowly warded off the visits, their suspicion over what was happening there grew steadily. She knew it was only a matter of time before they gathered the courage to make the trip. She'd just hoped it wouldn't be so many of them at once, or during the worst time of her life. Not only did she not have the princess to help assure them the royal bloodline was intact, but she didn't even have Ryker to provide a bit of safety from any disgruntled peasant. There was certainly no hiding her sour mood either/

An idea began to form in her mind. Grimhelde couldn't deny her sadness, so the best thing to do was to show it in full. It was well known that a threat had been made against the royal family. They'd already killed both the king and queen and Grimhelde had valiantly kept their daughter and heir safe. She was only human though and a high spirited girl couldn't be contained forever.

The mirror's magic faded and Grimhelde quickly changed her dress to something more appropriate for mourning. A bit of magic lit the sconces in the entry hall and cleaned the dust. Heavy black cloth appeared to cover every mirror in the castle. The air felt heavy, another trick of hers. By the time they reached the front doors everything looked as it had before she'd sent the serving staff away, albeit more gloomy thanks to the dim lighting.

Cold air spilled in with the opening of the door. The townsfolk filtered in quietly, going still when they spotted her on the small raised dais. Unlike the throne room she had no official place to stand. She made do with the dais as it boosted her just slightly above the rest of them. It gave her a good vantage to see even the few lingering just outside the door. They were mostly the elderly who were only now catching up to the faster people ahead of them.