Both Oliver and I scrambled to our feet and took off running in the direction of the sound. Dread filled my stomach. If someone had been over there, they would have received the brunt of both my wind and fire.

A short figure stumbled out of the cover of the trees, and my relieved brain noted that she didn’t appear to have any burns. A moment later I realized I recognized her.

Giselle.

Oliver reached her first, gripping her by the shoulders and inspecting her for injury. When he started berating her, I breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t be doing that if she was hurt.

“What did you think you were doing?” he demanded. His voice sounded stern, but she looked entirely undaunted.

“I was spying on you, of course. What do you think I was doing?”

Even I raised an eyebrow, impressed at her pluck. I could see why Oliver had said he wished I could meet her. She reminded me of my younger self.

“You could have been injured—badly!” Oliver now sounded more resigned than angry.

Giselle ignored him completely, her attention turned to me. “You told me you had power to release people from the enchantment. Not that you could shoot fire from your hands.”

I shrugged. “I’m still working on that part. That’s why we’re out here.”

“Well, it looked pretty impressive. I want to see it closer up.”

I looked over at Oliver, and he shrugged helplessly.

“All right,” I said. “But no more hiding. I don’t want to singe your hair off.”

“No, indeed.” She patted her pale blond locks.

I eyed them. “Although it might be worth it, just to see if it would get a reaction from Emmeline.”

She gasped and clutched at her hair. “You wouldn’t!”

“Relax, sis,” said Oliver. “She’s teasing you.”

Giselle glared at me before moving a few feet away. “Well, come on then. Let’s see these impressive powers.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

The fear from when I heard her scream remained close enough to the surface that I easily whipped my internal heat to a raging bonfire. When it began to grow uncomfortable, I swung my hands in front of me, clapping them together, and pointing all of my fingers toward a rock at the base of the trees.

A column of fire roared from my clenched fingers, a rush of air moving with it, and slammed into the stone. The rock exploded from the pressure, spraying shards of stone in all directions. We all flinched, raising our arms to protect our faces.

When the fire had died out and the rock fragments had all hit the ground, I slowly lowered my arms.

“Did I mention I’m still working on it?”

“Wow.” Giselle’s eyes glowed. “That. Was. Amazing.”

She would have happily kept me out there doing tricks for hours, but after a glance at the sky—and another one at his sister—Oliver declared it time to return to the palace. Giselle looked disappointed but didn’t protest—so not entirely like me at her age, after all.

Together we trekked back in near silence. What had happened in that meadow wasn’t something any of us felt like discussing where someone else might overhear us. Even if we were surrounded by people who seemed unmoved by anything.

We had made it most of the way back when we passed a particularly deep drift of snow pushed between two building fronts. I shivered at the sight, but a moment’s reflection made me realize I didn’t actually feel cold. Instead a pleasant warmth had settled inside me, too low to be particularly noticeable until I actively thought about it.

So my experiment with the running had been a success. I had managed to kindle an internal fire that could last through distractions. But when I remembered how the memory had ended, I frowned. It made me feel both safer and warmer—a not insignificant side-effect—to have the heat always burning. But I would have to be more careful of unexpected flare ups. I didn’t want to end up blasting a hole through the palace wall or setting someone on fire just because I was startled.

* * *

Days passed and became weeks. At first the inactivity suited me fine. I returned many more times to the meadow with Oliver to further refine my skills. Giselle always accompanied us, not bothering to ask permission, just appearing at some point during our walk through the city. Oliver tried to send her back the first time, but she merely shrugged and silently continued toward the meadow, drawing ahead of us.

Eventually he had sighed, and we had accepted her presence. She often turned up whenever we were together after that, and I grew used to it. I even told myself it was a good thing that I was rarely alone with Oliver now. I didn’t want to lose control again.

Oliver had done his best to launch an investigation into the cave in, but none of us were surprised to discover that no one remembered seeing or hearing anything suspicious. And since we were all in agreement that it would be best not to advertise my new powers, he couldn’t even be too specific with anyone about exactly what had happened. Not when we had no explanation for our escape.

But it wasn’t worth letting word about my gift spread. With an unknown enemy wreaking havoc on the kingdom, it felt good to have one advantage they knew nothing about.

As weeks passed, however, the three of us grew more and more concerned. Instead of warming up as we approached closer to summer, the air was growing colder and the snowfalls more frequent. Snowdrifts began to appear in the meadow, and eventually the day came when we couldn’t make it across the path to reach it at all.

Any idea that this unseasonal change might cause concern to the locals had long since faded. The three of us drew closer together—an island in the midst of a sea of cold and passive faces. Even regular conversation seemed an effort for most of them now. And attempts to express our concern were met only with blank expressions and shrugs.

While Oliver did his best to keep the administration of the kingdom functioning in the face of his parents’ increasing disinterest, Giselle and I had taken to roaming the palace, searching for something—anything—that might help us. I preferred lobbing fireballs to spending hours on musty old record books, but we spent part of every day in the library. We could find no account of any previous encroachment of winter to rival this one, however.

We also poked through every bit of the palace, unwilling to overlook anything that might help us understand what was happening to Eldon. I often found myself back in the room of treasures—as I had mentally dubbed it—wishing one of the objects displayed there still held power.

Sometimes I also found myself lingering in front of the old portrait in the corridor, wondering what object was missing from beside it. Giselle told me that display had always stood empty, so I knew it was a foolish thought. But still I found myself there.

So when we ended up in the long portrait gallery one afternoon, I easily recognized the same woman in another painting displayed among the many past royals. Once again she wore a similar blue velvet to the material that decorated the palace, but she looked older in this portrait. Still determined but a little more careworn.

Giselle noticed my interest and came to stand beside me.

“It’s the same woman,” I said. “Who was she, do you know?”

“She’s one of the previous queens.” Giselle paused. “My great-great-grandmother? Or maybe it’s just one great. I get confused about the order of them all.”

“Why is her portrait out in the corridor? Was she special?”

Giselle scrunched up her face, thinking. “Depends what you consider special, I suppose. She lived back before our kingdoms turned away from the High King and the old laws. Before the godmothers turned away from us in turn. She had a godmother, I believe, although she was only a servant originally. And she and the crown prince fell in love and were married. It was all terribly romantic, I suppose.” Giselle didn’t seem particularly impressed.

“She sounds like Lily and Sophie’s mother. She was a servant—sort of—before she married the prince.”

“Maybe it’s because she was a servant that she found the palace cold and unpleasant,” said Giselle. “At least, that’s what I remember mother telling me. She apparently redecorated the whole thing.” She gave a wry smile. “I guess when you’re responsible for decoration you get to put your portrait wherever you want.”

“I wonder what was supposed to stand beside it.”

Giselle shrugged. “You should ask Oliver, maybe he knows. As crown prince he spent much more time than Emmeline and me learning all about the family history and the previous kings and queens.”

From her scrunched nose, I deduced that she didn’t envy him the role. I let the conversation drop, although my curiosity about the servant-girl-turned-queen had only increased.

Moving down the line of portraits, I stopped in front of a particularly grand and imposing one. It portrayed a tall king, standing alone, his hand upon the hilt of his sword and his brow stern as he gazed into the distance.

“Another one of your ancestors, I suppose. He looks…” I trailed off as I tried to think of a non-offensive description.

“Conceited?” Giselle appeared beside me. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended. I’ve never liked the look of him myself.”

From his stance and expression it surprised me somewhat that he hadn’t had himself painted on a victorious battlefield or on his throne, at least. But as my eyes roamed over the background of the picture, they landed on an unusual object.

Excitement filled me, warmth swirling around my insides which I quickly suppressed. The last thing I wanted was fire erupting in this room of all places.

“Giselle, what’s that? Behind him?”

Mounted on the wall behind the figure, the painter had included a large mirror. The elaborate frame appeared to be covered in gilt, and it seemed a strange thing to include in a portrait. Unless…

Giselle sighed. “That’s the Eldonian royal mirror.”

I nodded. “You told me it was lost. Just before I freed you. What did you mean by lost? How do you lose a mirror?” I couldn’t quite keep the excitement from my voice.

“Well, I suppose lost is a bit of a euphemism.” She looked pained. “The truth is that it was stolen.”

“Stolen?” Some of my eagerness drained away, replaced with confusion. “How does something like that get stolen out of a palace?”

She just shrugged. “It was before my time. All I know is that someone managed to take it. It was gone before I ever got the chance to see it.” She sounded genuinely sad, and I remembered the echo of the emotion pushing through the fog of her enchantment when we had talked about it previously.

I tried not to sound impatient or critical when I asked, “I assume your family has tried to recover it?”

“Of course.” She sounded a little sharp despite my efforts. “Many times, in fact. The thief was tracked up the mountain. Only then a blizzard hit. The tracks were lost after that.” She sighed. “No one can survive up the mountains in winter. The thief froze to death long ago and the mirror is stashed in whatever hidey hole or cave he found before he died. My grandfather announced a reward for anyone who could find it, and every summer at least one expedition goes looking. But the mountains are vast, and the thief could have fled to any corner of them before he succumbed.” She sighed again. “Such a waste.”

I groaned, the remaining elation seeping out of me. A waste indeed. Because if we could have found the lost mirror, we could have used it to find the source of the enchantment. Find it and stop it.

“It would be a useful thing to have now,” Giselle whispered, her mind obviously in the same place as mine.

“Maybe we could—”

“In this weather? That would be crazy.” Giselle didn’t even let me finish the thought.

Reluctantly I conceded the point, and we moved out of the room. But I couldn’t get the thought of the royal mirror from my mind. It was out there somewhere, and if only we had it, we could finally make some progress on defeating this curse.