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asked.
    “He’s not mad at anyone,” Danielle said. “He’s just mad.”
    “I don’t like this papa.”
    “Your father loves you, Jakob.” Danielle hugged him. “And he didn’t mean to upset you.”
    Isaac stepped away, twirling his crucifix between stiff fingers as he looked up at the stained glass windows.
    “What’s wrong?” Danielle asked, watching him closely.
    “I’m not sure. For a moment, when Armand left . . . the windows have whispered to me today, but their warnings are too faint.” Father Isaac’s magic might not be as powerful as Snow’s, but he had spent years working spells of peace and protection into those windows.
    “You think something could be wrong with Armand?” Danielle kept her voice steady so as not to upset Jakob. “Something magical?”
    Isaac shook his head. “It may be I’m simply on edge myself. Or perhaps it’s an effect of Snow’s broken mirror. That much power released in the palace . . . How is she?”
    “I’ve barely seen her today,” Danielle admitted. Snow certainly hadn’t acted hurt as she flitted through the palace, retrieving the rest of her broken mirrors. Tymalous had clearly taken good care of her.
    “I never saw Snow’s mirror, though she told me of it once,” Isaac said. “Given its power, I’m surprised its destruction didn’t have more of an impact on my own magic. She did well to contain the damage.” He turned away from the windows and tucked his hands into his sleeves. “She’s not been by today. We each grieve in our own way, but I know she and Beatrice were close. She should take the chance to say farewell in private, before the funeral. As should you.”
    Danielle nodded and set Jakob down. Keeping his hand in hers, she stepped toward the queen’s body. As she knelt, she glanced at Father Isaac, who had gone back to studying the stained glass windows. Worry furrowed his brow.
    Danielle bowed her head and prayed.

CHAPTER 3

    T ALIA STOOD IN THE SHADOWS BEHIND Danielle, letting the low murmur of dinner conversation wash past her. Danielle was stiffer than usual. She had spoken only a handful of times since arriving from the chapel, and hadn’t yet told Talia what was bothering her.
    Armand appeared equally lost in his meal. Occasionally one of the nobles from Eastpointe, Dragon Lake, or Norlin would try to engage him in conversation. His responses were short and abrupt, and they soon gave up their efforts.
    Talia’s gaze kept returning to the empty chair at the king’s left. For years she had waited on the queen, acting as both servant and bodyguard. Earlier tonight when she first entered the hall, she had moved without thinking to her usual position, as though Beatrice would at any moment come hurrying through the doors to join them.
    She shifted her weight, trying to ease the stiffness in her legs. Strange to think that only yesterday she had been chasing witchhunters through the icy streets. Only yesterday Beatrice had still been alive.
    Talia wrenched her attention upward to the ancient wooden beams that supported the arched ceiling. Oil lamps burned brightly on the walls between tall, arched windows. She searched the shadows for any shapes that didn’t belong. This many strangers meant many more opportunities for “accidents.”
    The responsibility gave Talia something to focus on. Few nobles would risk acting directly, but each had brought his or her own retinue. If something did happen, it would likely be someone in his or her staff who did it. Someone most people would overlook, who could be disavowed if caught.
    Lord Oren of Dragon Lake was a possible candidate. The man was paranoid enough to bring his own personal food taster, despite the implied insult to King Theodore’s hospitality. Oren and his wife ate with their own utensils of pearl-handled silver. Such fears revealed much about the mind that harbored them.
    Another man to watch was Anton of Eastpointe. Anton was an older man, one who gave every impression of