Danielle folds her arms over her chest. “So, is she dead yet? Did my former friend follow her father into the otherlife?”
“Danielle!” Sandy barks. “Don’t say such rotten things! Astrid Snow is a princess.”
She scoffs. “Princess. More like filthy scheming whore.”
“Dan—”
“It’s all right,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice level. “Her personal opinion of Miss Snow will not factor into our investigation. We only wish to ask her a few questions.”
Sandy turns to us with an apologetic look. “My daughter is unwell, as you can see. She has been for some years now.”
“What’s the matter with her, if you don’t mind me inquiring?” Torben asks.
Sandy wrings her hands. “Well, you see…she…”
“Oh, did you not tell them, Mother?” Danielle’s voice rings with feigned innocence. It’s a familiar tone. One she used against me more times than I care to recall. “You didn’t tell them that I’m the family’s great shame? That I’m…how does the good doctor put it…unhinged?”
“That’s enough,” Sandy snaps at the girl, then turns a false smile to us. “You recall what I asked of you in the parlor? That you will take nothing from this conversation but what you deem relevant to your case?”
“We gave you our assurances,” Torben says. “Now, if you will, please allow us some privacy to speak with your daughter.”
Sandy looks as if she wants to argue, but she gives us a begrudging nod. “Behave,” she mutters at her daughter, then exits the room.
My pulse races as I extend my hand toward a pair of chairs next to a meager hearth fire. “Shall we sit?”
Danielle says nothing, only stares at us with a haughty expression. That, it seems, hasn’t changed.
Torben’s jaw shifts side to side, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Miss Harding,” he says, “when was the last time you saw or spoke to your cousin Marybeth?”
Danielle quirks a brow. “Marybeth? I thought this conversation was about Astrid Snow.”
“It is, in a way,” Torben says. “Marybeth Harding was Miss Snow’s lady’s maid. The two were friendly. Were you aware of this?”
She huffs a dark laugh. “That my cousin is a traitorous wretch? Yes, I’m aware.”
“Why do you call her that?”
“Because she betrayed me.”
“In what way?”
Danielle turns away from us and wanders over to her window. Silence falls over the room as we wait for her to speak again. In the absence of sound, my rapid heartbeat fills my ears. Several moments pass. When it doesn’t appear that she’ll speak again, Torben takes a few steps closer.
“Miss Harding,” he says, “I insist you answer our questions. When did you last see or speak to Marybeth Harding? And by speak to, I mean all forms of correspondence, whether in person or by letter.”
Danielle scowls at the window, her hands clenched tight around the edge of the sill.
I swallow hard and take a step forward. “Miss Harding—”
She whirls to face us. “Two years ago.” She says it with such fury it sends a chill down my spine. “The last time I had any communication with my insipid cousin was two years ago when she wrote me a letter insisting Astrid Snow is—to use Marybeth’s words—a kind and wonderful person.”
“You didn’t share the same opinion?” Torben asks.
“Of course not. I’m the only one who saw Astrid for what she really was. She was nothing but a scheming, devious, lustful harpy. She envied me and everyone around her. She only wanted what others had. Things she had no right to lust after.”
My knees buckle at the coldness in her tone. I can feel my walls growing thinner, my magic growing stronger, fiercer. So badly it wants to return, to surround me, to wrap me in a shield and stand between me and the other girl’s chilling ire.
As if Torben can read my every thought, he shifts slightly until he’s standing in front of me, meeting the full force of Danielle’s scorn. “Did your cousin know of your history with Miss Snow when she accepted her position at the palace?”
