A Fair Account of the Traitors Snow White and Rose Red

The Brittle Blade

The barrette is treacherously cold in my palm, as if it still retains the chill of Snow's sable tresses. She must've dropped it in her battle with Jack at the watchtower. For a brief moment, I consider crushing the pearl-lined crescent into the dirt. She treasures it, after all. Before I can give into such a petty temptation, Jack reaches up and grabs my wrist, forcing me to my knees.

"Eleven years I've kept it for her," Jack murmurs as his vise-tight grip on me trembles. "Snow lost it the night she attacked the slaver's ship that brought me here." The elf sways as his eyelids strain not to slide shut; using the corverum has cost him dearly. "But I still remember her eyes—the bluest flames, same as . . . yours."

His chin falls, and I stagger as Jack collapses forward onto my shoulder. The ragged iridescence of his hair brushes softly against my cheek. If I close my eyes, I could almost pretend the warmth of his body is human. Almost.

His wild story bewilders me—I never heard any tale of Snow attacking a slaver's ship, but then, I never knew Albemar harbored the spawn of verdai, either.

Logically, I should abandon the elf. It would be so easy to leave him lying here and seek out Snow on my own. With the Orune wounded from his clash with Jack at the watchtower, it would be a simple task to get close to her . . . and kill.

But that is assuming I don't become easy prey for the Wildershade first. I can already feel the added heaviness in the air with each breath I pull in, and the invisible weight of the surrounding lucidium sinking into my bones and rooting me to the spot. The woods are listening to me, even now, leaves straining on the breeze—I thought I could handle walking the forbidden groves alone, but now I am afraid of the silver silence that engulfs me on all sides.

Jack's labored breathing can't mask the hum that's building at the base of my skull. I feel like I'm being eroded from the inside out, my senses overloaded by the slightest changes in my surroundings. A pine needle stained pale metallic by lucidium falls like a dart beside my hand and I wince at the tiny tinkling sound. Is this how the delusions of Silver Fever start? But I am a descendent of the first Rosavere! Her immunity runs through my veins, so I should have nothing to fear. Nothing at all . . . .

I'm not sure how many minutes pass with me blinking under the gleaming hypnotism of the leaves, but I start as Jack coughs against my shoulder. "Princess, you may smell like lilies," he wheezes, "but you hug like a bear. Your embrace is . . . crushing me."

"Agh!" I shove him away, utterly scandalized at how tightly my fingers have been digging into his arms. I glare at Jack as he falls backwards onto a shrub. "I should've left your skinny hide for the beasts to devour!" I grumble, pocketing the pearl crescent barrette.

Jack gives me an infuriating grin as he rises unsteadily and shakes leaves from his hair. "Ah, but then who would escort you to your sister?"

Escort me? I suppose it's a far cry from dragging me behind him like cattle. Jack won't admit it any more than I will, but something has changed between us since our run in with Kage and his pack of orchid keepers. We are . . . united by our common hunt for Snow. So I will let Jack assume we are allies for just a little longer—

I can't risk letting my one moment to finally kill my half sister be squandered by the elf, especially when I know full well that Snow will never grant his request. There is no mercy in her; he doesn't understand that Snow is a creature of cold whim. She'll freeze Jack to death again given half a chance. I won't give it to her. But why couldn't I ditch Jack when I still had the chance?

"Hurry up, then," I say, brushing past him. "I won't wait for dawdlers. I doubt it will take long for Kage and his red-eyed thralls to catch up to us."