Yeva returned to her room, sat on her bed, and sank into the mattress for several minutes. She made an indent within the comforter, sinking further as minutes turned into hours. The beginning of the first and the end of the last frosted over like an icy window.
An indiscernible amount of time into her rest, she sat up at a scratching sound outside her doorway, where one of the ballerinas swept.
She didn't make eye contact as the ballerina went on, catching her bristles on the ice. They dragged brutally, but didn't accumulate any visible dust—only a few stray snowflakes which likely fell from her outfit.
Like the last time, Yeva fought out of bed, standing upon her drunk legs like a newborn fawn.
"Excuse me—" she said, and managed to approach, slipping but keeping upright. The ballerina turned to her and said nothing, standing at attention as her milky eyes watched nothing and no one other than her.
"I—Is my horse alright? Ivan? Did anyone see—"
Without speaking, the ballerina pointed down the hall.
"What? Is he here?"
Arm outstretched, she opened her mouth only slightly, but even in that small space, Yeva could see that she had no teeth or tongue. The inside of her mouth housed only a shadow. She moved her lips around the word 'Ivan' and kept pointing.
"Oh," Yeva said. "Thank you," and continued down the hall.
Moving away from the Snow Queen's throne room, the second half of the hall didn't vary from the first. The same, perfect walls composed the same, perfect dimensions, continuing without intelligible end. The rooms went on in the same fashion, until the view resembled more of an experiment in perspective than a place anyone would live. Still, Yeva walked through the halls.
The ballerinas didn't seem capable of lying.
The further Yeva went, the more small changes appeared. Ice had accumulated more heavily in the corners, rounding out their 90-degree angles. Icicles sprouted from the ceiling, as the uniform rooms finally deviated. Some were much larger and held chests of items, and others were smaller and denser, hoarded with cabinets of china, vases, or jewelry on display—each appraised at a fortune.
The ballerinas occurred here and there, flitting around with brooms and dusters, not bothering to scrape away the built-up ice. Whenever Yeva came near enough, one would turn and stare, eyes glazed like the finish of a mirror. None of them stopped her, nor directed her toward Ivan. They would only turn and follow with her eyes, occupying themselves once Yeva was out of range.
Eventually, she reached the library. Lit by a window at the left of the room, it was dark and frozen, but packed from ceiling to floor with books. Many appeared read, book-marked and spines bent. Yeva didn't touch any of them. She merely observed the high shelves with their decorations and continued along the same corridor.
Past the library, the palace grew colder and the hall ended, the icicles hanging from the ceiling resembling the open mouth of a shark, teeth preparing to descend. On the left side was a single room, breathing out cold air, and Yeva didn't find any ballerinas to ask for directions.
A breath escaped through her nose as she approached. The room was shrouded in darkness, lined with plates that began to blink. Light came from some direction, which they reflected onto one another, resembling a wintertime illumination.
When Yeva entered, the pattern changed. The plates simultaneously reflected her light and bathed her in it. Each of them the same size and consistency, they covered the walls like eyes, glimmering as she moved toward the back.
All of them lit up when she approached a picture frame, whose image had iced over. Taking her sleeve, she wiped away the fog and found a tiara. Continuing, she uncovered two symmetrical brows, and piercing blue eyes as sharp as icicles. Then came a sculpted nose and shapely lips.
The woman must have been around eighteen.
Yeva went to the other side, where she stood next to someone obscured by frost, but it didn't disperse easily. Abrasively as possible without breaking the glass, Yeva scrubbed away and revealed a crown.
"Yeva…" A voice on the breeze kicked up a flurry of snow. "Come back," it whispered. "Dinner is ready."
The wind wound around her and blew away, and when Yeva turned to the picture, the ice had regrown. She could no longer see the queen, nor whoever she stood next to.
Yeva left. The plates darkened. That brief storm guided her back through the halls and past the empty throne room. Next to the mirror was another door that led to the dining room, whose icy chandelier dangled over its long, rectangular table. The Snow Queen sat at its head.
She shone the way the chandelier did, lit by strange light that wasn't fire, but condensed sunlight. Without it, the dining room would have exuded darkness. The icy walls indicated the night outside. Both the chandelier and the Snow Queen came to resemble stars amongst a feast in the midst of space.
"Sit next to me." The Snow Queen's arm indicated the chair at her side—the spot nearest to her at the ongoing table. Plates stretched from one end to the other, with borscht, loaves of bread, cut and roasted potatoes, and venison whose smell brought Yeva to sit.
From the direction of the throne room, one of the ballerinas came with an empty plate and chalice, filling them. She piled slices of bread, venison, and potatoes, as well as replenished the cup with spiced tea. Yeva nearly rose her voice, but the Snow Queen prematurely answered, "Not to worry. I haven't added any alcohol."
The ballerina set the plate before Yeva and tiptoed away.
"Are you going to eat, Snow Queen?"
"No." She leaned back in her throne, and touched the fur around her collar. "I take my energy from the winter. You may begin." Yeva picked up her fork and sunk its prongs into one of the potatoes, but rather than eating, she regarded the Queen.
The Snow Queen laughed, setting her chin over a few fingers and tilted her head. "Oh, Yeva. I wouldn't have had all of this food prepared if I intended to poison you. How amusing you are." She finished with a sigh. "Are you worried because I witnessed your adventure?"
Yeva pushed the fork in deeper.
"I could have stopped you. You've done nothing unpermitted."
"I wanted to find my horse."
"I'm aware," the Snow Queen said, and blinked slowly. "He's fine, and your rabbit is still in the cart as well. The notebook, however, was not so fortunate. It had soaked through by the time I arrived."
"Is Rozie alright?"
"Yes," the Snow Queen answered. "Rozie is fine."
Yeva stared at her plate. The Snow Queen, however, had not stopped observing her, sharp silver eyes resting where Yeva's hair gathered upon her shoulders.
"Snow Queen, I appreciate your generosity, but I need to get home. Rozie has been alone a long time."
The Snow Queen sighed. "I understand, but I can't control the storm, and it's night time as of now. Please stay and enjoy dinner. I had the venison prepared the way your mother used to make it, when your father would bring home a deer." The Snow Queen sat back again, having leaned forward a bit. "You should enjoy one decent meal while you're here. Life has been cruel enough, wouldn't you agree?"
Yeva didn't say anything.
"What your father did was unintentional," the Snow Queen began, softly. "I saw it happen. Even if it would have been in the dead of winter, I couldn't have prevented it, but he never meant for—"
"Please stop," Yeva clenched her teeth. "Intentional, unintentional, it doesn't matter. What's done is done, and if I don't get home soon, Rozie really will be an orphan."
"My apologies, Yeva." The Snow Queen set her hand upon the table, which came close to touching hers, but didn't. "I had wished to tell you that for a while. I hope you understand." She shifted and eventually rose. "I'll let you be. If you need anything at all, alert the ballerinas."
The Snow Queen afflicted Yeva's forehead with a gentle kiss and exited the dining room. Yeva, clenching her fork, ate, finished within minutes, and marched back to her room. She passed the Queen's empty throne on her way.