Fairest of All (3 page)

T
he Queen spent the following months further acquainting herself with her new home. With the King away, Snow occupied much of the Queen’s time. The two picnicked in the woods, and the Queen taught the child delicate needlepoint. She told her tales of dragons while they snuggled by the warm fire in the Queen’s chamber, where Snow slept while the King was deployed.

The two also spent many sunny afternoons visiting Snow’s mother’s grave site. The mausoleum was surrounded by a lovely overgrown garden filled with creeping roses, wisteria, jasmine, honeysuckle and gardenia—all favorites of the King’s first wife.

The scent was almost intoxicating. The Queen would sit with Snow for hours, telling her the stories of her mother that she had learned from the letters the King had brought her, and reading some aloud.

“Was my first mother very pretty?” Snow asked.

“I believe she was, my dearest. I shall ask your father if there are any portraits I may show you. I’m sure she was very beautiful.”

Snow looked distressed.

“What is it darling?”

Snow cocked her head like a little rabbit might at hearing a noise. It warmed the Queen’s heart.

“Well, Momma, how can you be
sure
she was beautiful?”

The Queen smiled at the precocious child.

“Well, my little bird, you are the most beautiful creature I have even seen, and so it only stands to reason…”

Snow seemed contented with this deduction. “Tell me more about her, please, Momma. What was her favorite color? What was her favorite dessert?”

“I’m not sure, Snow, she may speak of these things in her missives. But I do know she was a very capable horsewoman. She adored horses and hoped to teach you how to ride when you were old enough. Shall I teach you to ride, little bird?”

“Oh yes, Momma! I love horses!”

“Do you? I hadn’t known.”

“What’s
your
favorite color, Momma? Is it red? I think it must be red, you wear it so often.”

“Yes, you’re right, little bird.”

“And mine, Momma? Do you know?”

“I think…blue.”

“Yes, Momma!”

“Shall we pick some flowers to take back to the castle? It looks as if it may rain soon. We should venture home before we get soaked through.”

“Yes, Momma. Let’s pick flowers.
Red
and
blue
flowers!”

They gathered flowers as it began to rain. They arrived at the castle steps soaked indeed, little sprigs of flowers in the folds of their skirts. But they were happy, and their soaked clothes did little to dampen their moods.

Verona was waiting for them when they arrived back at the castle, both laughing with the giddiness of the day.

“My gods! Look at you both! You’re wet to the bone. You had best get out of these wet things. I have hot baths ready. Hurry along,” Verona said, taking the flowers from the rain-drenched beauties.

“Will you float the flowers in bowls of water and distribute them around the castle, Verona?” the Queen requested. The Queen thought having the castle filled with Snow’s mother’s favorite fragrances might make it feel as if her mother were near her. How the Queen wished she knew where her own mother was laid to rest.

“Of course, my Queen,” Verona answered. Then she ushered her into the Queen’s chamber where her bath had been prepared.

The Queen spent most of her time in one remote part of the room where she could settle into what she was sure was the most comfortable seat in the kingdom—a thronelike padded armchair upholstered with velvet cushions and plush trimmings. The chair was set near the fireplace, beside an alcove shelving her best-loved illuminated manuscripts. With her husband gone, she’d been ending most of her days there, and would do so again this evening. But first, a bath.

Verona exited, and the Queen stepped into the soothing tub. The steaming water melted a frost that seemed to cover the Queen’s every bone. Despite the rain and the resulting shivers, she’d had a pleasant day with Snow.

Still, she missed the King terribly.

She mused as she watched the swirls of steam rise. The chamber was enormous. The stone walls were draped with detailed tapestries of red, gold, and black that hung from ornately molded rods set in iron brackets. The tapestries not only beautified the room, but kept the frigid chill outside.

The grand fireplace was flanked by two enormous statues that seemed to have souls. Each portrayed a beautiful and beastly winged woman, both with faces severe and remote; their downcast eyes gazed down from a towering height.

A quiet knock upon the chamber door caused the Queen to stir.

“Verona, I presume?” the Queen said.

“It is I,” Verona responded from behind the door. “My lady, I took the liberty of suggesting the cook make some of Snow’s favorites for this evening’s meal. The girl seems a little sullen.”

The Queen didn’t respond.

“She’s missing her father,” Verona continued, “as you are, I am sure. He has been away for several months now.”

The Queen considered Verona’s words for a moment, then broke her silence.

“Neither of us would thrive so well without you, Verona. We thank you and love you for that.”

“Thank you, Majesty. Will you need any further assistance? More hot water? Or your bath sheet, perhaps?”

The Queen had already begun to step from her tub, wrapping herself in the huge, soft towel, which had been warmed on a small coal apparatus next to her.

“I’ve already emerged, my dear. You may enter,” the Queen said.

As her attendant, it would have been Verona’s duty to bathe the Queen. But the Queen was insistent that no one see her without a painted face and coiffed hair. Recently, however, she’d become much more comfortable with Verona, and had allowed the woman to see her without makeup and finery.

Verona shifted uncomfortably, no doubt because she knew how the Queen felt about others seeing her before she’d been made-up.

“I’m sure the King will be home soon, my lady,” Verona said, while shifting little trinkets in the room, pretending to organize them though she might have just been attempting not to look upon the unpainted face of her Queen.

“In the meantime, perhaps you and Snow would benefit from an adventure.”

“Ah, do you have an escapade in mind, my sister?” the Queen asked, a slight smile creeping upon her lips.

“The Apple Blossom Festival. Your subjects would be thrilled if you were to attend. It would make for an even more rousing event to have their Queen and princess there to crown the Apple Blossom Maiden.”

The Queen considered this. She was still—after all the ceremonies, festivals, and attendants—not very comfortable in large crowds. She preferred to keep to herself. And then she remembered the child.

“You would join us, of course?” the Queen asked Verona.

“Indeed, my Queen,” Verona said, smiling brightly and forgetting not to look upon the Queen’s face.

“Let us attend, then.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Verona said, curtsying. “Might I be excused to make the arrangements?”

“Of course, dear. I can manage by myself,” the Queen said with her back to Verona, gazing at her lady-in-waiting’s face through her mirror’s reflection.

But as Verona bowed out, the Queen noticed something that greatly disturbed—even terrified—her. Just as Verona had closed the chamber door and the Queen found herself alone, something appeared to move behind her in her mirror—the one the King had given to her on their wedding day. Something, perhaps someone, was inside with her. But it couldn’t have been so. She surveyed the room. She was clearly alone. Verona had locked the door when she left the room, and, as was customary, locked it when she had entered. There was no chance anyone could have sneaked in. Still, she was sure she’d seen a face appear in the mirror, just over her shoulder.

She stared into the mirror and then searched the room. Anyone who had seen her would have thought she’d gone mad. But she needed to assure herself that she was indeed alone. And after thoroughly examining the room, that was the very conclusion she came to.

It must have been a trick of the light.

She settled down into her favorite chair to calm her racing heart. The heat from the fire soothed her, and she ran her naked toes over the bearskin rug at her feet. She must be losing her mind from sorrow. She wished she knew when,
if
, her husband would return.

Her eyes became heavy, and she began to drift off. But she was not able to sleep, still unsure that she was alone. She stood up and again walked over to the mirror. Just one last look. One more glance and then she would be able to settle down. She leaned into the mirror to examine it more closely. Perhaps it had been rigged, or charmed.

“Good evening my Queen.”

The Queen attempted to scream, but could not usher a sound from her constricted throat. She instinctually swiped at the huge mirror and batted it off the stone wall. The mirror crashed to the marble floor. But for a moment the Queen was sure she’d glimpsed the shattered countenance of a man’s face looking up at her through the mirrored shards, his face cracked and broken. Then he faded away as quickly as he’d appeared.

“Your Highness, what’s happened? Are you well?” asked an attendant from behind the door. From his breathlessness, the Queen could tell he’d rushed there. The Queen attempted to catch her own breath.

“I am—quite well—thank you. I’ve simply broken a mirror,” answered the Queen, feeling a bit light-headed.

“Very well,” the attendant said. We will clear that away.”

As the attendant began to walk away the Queen heard him say something else. She could have sworn she heard her father’s name uttered.

The attendant returned with others to clear the mess. The Queen watched as her attendants scuttled out of the room with the broken bits. Then, the cursed thing was gone.

Still, her thoughts were plagued with images of the man in the mirror as she made her way to dinner. The castle was quieter without the King’s hearty laughter and childlike energy. Even the small dining hall looked imposing and empty without him. And Verona had been right—Snow did look sullen with her father away. In an attempt to cheer the child, the Queen said, “I have a surprise for you, my little bird. We’re to attend the Apple Blossom Festival the day after next.” Snow smiled and it looked as though the stone beauty above the fireplace smiled as well.

If the Queen could only bring herself to do the same.

“M
omma,” Snow White asked as she, Verona, and the Queen stepped into the carriage that would deliver them to the festival, “is it almost time for the leaves to change?”

“Yes, dear,” the Queen replied.

Snow White looked puzzled.

“But don’t the apple blossoms come out after winter?”

The Queen smiled.

“Most do, little bird. But the apple blossoms in Apple Blossom Meadow are different. No one knows for sure why they bloom in the autumn. But some say that long ago a young girl lost her way in the forest. It was late in the year, near the winter solstice, and the girl was cold, frightened, and hungry. She huddled beneath a stand of apple trees in the wood, and by some strange magic, the air around her became warmer, and the trees blossomed and bore fruit. The child was warm and fed throughout the entire winter. And when the springtime came, she was found by her overjoyed parents who thought they had lost her to the cold and the frost.”

Snow White thought about this for a moment. And then she sat back in the carriage and smiled.

“I wouldn’t want to be apart from you and Papa, Momma. But I do love apples, and it would be so nice to eat them for an entire winter!”

The Queen and Verona looked at each other and smiled at the child’s innocence.

The Queen then looked outside the carriage to notice much fanfare and anticipation in advance of her arrival.

She felt guilty for not giving the villagers proper notice of her attendance. After all, she had announced that she would be attending the festival only two days prior. She customarily would not thrust herself upon them with so little notice, but she was desperate for a respite from the gloom of the castle.

It seemed, however, that her lack of advance notice didn’t quell the villagers’ excitement, and as the three beauties exited the carriage a mass of subjects with apple blossoms in hand cheered on the Queen and her party. Petals floated in the air dreamily, settling around, over, and on them. The Queen noticed how striking the light pink petals looked in Snow’s dark hair, and noted to herself that she should have a dress of the lightest pink made for Snow. She smiled at her subjects and then took her seat to watch the festivities. Snow munched on tarts as she looked at the many pretty young girls presenting themselves before the Queen in hopes of becoming this year’s Apple Blossom Maiden.

“You’re prettier than any of those girls, Momma. Don’t you think, Verona?” Snow asked.

But Verona was distracted by a message that had just been delivered to her by a young porter.

The Queen noticed the letter in Verona’s hands, and leaned over to ask her what it said.

Verona folded the letter. Then her face brightened. She whispered to the Queen.

“My lady, the King will be home this evening!”

“Will he? We have so much to prepare before he arrives!” The Queen wanted to rush back to the castle that very moment, but she had committed to this event, and she could not let Snow or the people of the kingdom down.

“Send a letter back with the porter to the other servants,” the Queen whispered to Verona, “Tell them I wish to make the grandest holiday of the King’s return.”

And as the Apple Blossom Festival wound down and the Apple Blossom Maiden was chosen, it was all the Queen could do to keep her mind off her husband’s return. She decided that she would arrange a magnificent feast of roasted pig—her husband’s favorite—and for herself and Snow, pheasant in wine sauce with wild mushrooms. The table would sag under the weight of the platters of exquisite candied pears, glazed apricots, roasted red potatoes with rosemary, and jugs of warm spiced cider and wine. Everyone in the castle would eat well in celebration of the King’s return.

The Queen, unable to contain the good news any longer, told Snow of her father’s return during their carriage ride home. And when they arrived back at the castle, the Great Hall was already filled with glowing candles, warm fires, and friendly conversation. Snow hurried upstairs with Verona to clean up and dress for her father’s arrival. The Queen, for her part, did the same—frantically scouring and perfuming herself, painting her face, doing up her hair. And all the while she wore a brilliant smile.

When she arrived at the court, Snow was already there—she looked so small and delicate sitting in her high-back chair in this great hall. Before the preparations had been completed, before the Queen could take her seat, there was a blare of horns. Snow knew what this meant, and she launched from her seat and ran toward the castle entrance. The Queen followed, her speed restricted by her formal gown.

The King burst into the hall. “So, how have my beauties been occupying their time while I’ve been away?” he asked. A great cheer erupted in the castle. Snow leaped into his arms, and he twirled the child around and kissed her.

He had returned from the battlegrounds a different man. The Queen noticed a scar above his right cheek. His hair was not as groomed as it normally would be, and his beard had grown rough and ragged. And it was not only his physical appearance that had changed. His eyes were weighted down with sorrow and confusion. Perhaps regret. Still, underneath, the Queen could see the bright blue sparkle that she so dearly loved.

An emotion the Queen had never before felt welled up inside her. It was something she couldn’t explain—something between deep sadness and sheer ecstasy. Her lip began to quiver and she could feel the pressure of tears weighing on her eyes. She ran to the King and embraced him and the child.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said.

“Momma crowned the Apple Blossom Maiden! Oh, Papa, she looked so beautiful with apple blossoms in her hair!”

“Was the maiden that beautiful then?” the King asked. Snow made a sour face as if her father should have known she was talking about her mother and not the Apple Blossom Maiden, “I meant Momma, she was the prettiest girl there! She should have been the Apple Blossom Maiden!”

“Oh, I’m sure she
was
the most beautiful. It sounds as if you had lovely days without me, my dears, I’m sorry I missed them.”

“That’s okay, Papa! But I have had a thought. If you should make friends with dragons, Papa, then, you would be able to fly home more quickly. Or maybe you could even learn to turn
into
a dragon, like the lady from Momma’s tale.”

The King and Queen laughed at their daughter’s sweet words, and then joined their guests who had already begun to celebrate.

Then, suddenly, an explosion rocked the castle. Screams of terror erupted from the banquet hall and attendants scurried to find safety in any corner of the hall that looked clear.

“Snow White!” the Queen called out, unable to find the child in the panicked crowd, or through the thick smoke that was filling the room. “Snow!”

Battle cries went up from the men who had so recently returned. And they were uncannily suited and armed quicker than any man could dress himself for an ordinary day. The Queen was confounded. What was happening?

At once, the great wooden door of the hall came crashing down. The Queen screamed out, terrified of what was happening.

“Snow White!” she screamed again, but the child did not answer.

Men on horseback, dressed in royal blue, stormed the hall, but the King’s men appeared to be holding them off, for now.

Then, the Queen felt a strong hand grab at her arm and pull her away. She gasped, then turned to see who had grasped her. The King! And he was holding a terrified Snow White in his arms.

“Come,” he said.

The Queen felt faint, but followed as best she could.

“Who are they?” she asked her husband as he led her down one of the castle halls, where men continued to suit up for battle.

“The opposing army from our most recent battle. They must have followed us back home. I am sorry to have put you and Snow White in danger this way.”

Snow continued to shake and kept her head buried in her father’s shoulder, looking up occasionally to see if the men were still attacking, if smoke was still filling the halls. Shouts and battle cries echoed through the castle. As the King unlatched a dungeon door, he grabbed a torch and quickly ushered the Queen and Snow down a spiral staircase. The dungeon was damp and cold, and in the darkness the Queen had difficulty finding her footing. The King felt around the floor of the dungeon and located a trapdoor.

“Take this torch,” he told the Queen. Descend these stairs, and at the bottom you will find a small rowboat that will carry you out of the castle and to safety.”

“You will be joining us!” the Queen said.

“I will protect you in the way I know best. Now take Snow and go!” the King responded, and then he ran out from the dungeon once more.

The Queen held the shaking child close, and she made her way to the boat that the King promised would be waiting. The Queen set the torch in a brace on the boat and boarded. Snow White clung to her, and the Queen found it difficult to row the boat and hold the child at the same time. But she had to! And she did.

Soon the boat was drifting out of the castle and down a small river into the marshland that surrounded the castle. A blast of cold air hit them and the Queen held Snow White close. The Queen rowed the boat into an area that was densely covered with swamp grass, and the two sat shivering among the plants as the sky lit up red and orange around them. Both the Queen and the child started each time a blast sounded.

“Momma, is Papa going to be okay?” Snow asked, through shivering teeth.

“He always is, is he not?”

But the Queen was not sure herself what would come of this night.

Soon the blasts subsided, and the land around the castle fell silent. The Queen wrapped her cape around herself and the child for warmth. Snow White drifted off to sleep, and the Queen stayed awake all night holding vigil. And then, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

The King.

“Come, my loves,” he said, and they waded through the frosty swampland, and made their way back to the castle.

The halls looked a wreck, but the castle had held up well. The King told the Queen that they had fought off the invaders.

“Will they be back?” she asked.

“No,” the King said confidently.

“Your Majesty!” a voice called from the far end of the hall.

“Verona!” the Queen replied, and the two women approached each other and embraced.

“I am so happy to see you well,” Verona said.

“And I, you,” the Queen replied.

“We suffered no casualties. None. Your husband is a fair king and warrior.”

The King dropped his gaze to the ground.

“Come now, to our chamber to rest,” the King said. “Verona, please take Snow White to her room and tend to her there.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Verona replied.

T
he Queen and King made their way to their chamber. The Queen could not stomach the smell of burning wood and sulfur that permeated the castle. But once she had returned to her room, the air blowing in from the grounds helped dampen the stench.

And then she noticed something far more terrible than anything that had happened the night before.

Sitting there on the mantel was the mirror she had broken, now fully repaired and intact. But how?

She was not able to pull her eyes away from it. She became disoriented with confusion and terror.

“Verona wrote to inform me of the broken mirror. I was deeply saddened, so I set the kingdom’s finest craftsmen to the task of repairing it. Of course even their powers pale in comparison to your father’s. I meant to surprise you with its origin on our wedding day, dear heart. I thought you would like something to remind you of your father. It is his handiwork; surely you have recognized it by now.”

The Queen struggled to find her voice, to make it pleasant and not full of the terror that seized her.

“Thank you, my darling. You are thoughtful,” She kissed her husband and tried to banish all fear from her heart. “I’m so happy you’re home, my love,” she said.

The King dropped his eyes.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“You can’t! Not so soon!”

“You saw what happened last evening! The invading kingdoms might topple us at any moment if we don’t drive them back. I would rather meet them away from here, where they can’t harm you. I must keep you and Snow—all of us—safe.”

“Keep us safe
here
!” the Queen shouted.

“My men will do that,” replied the King.

“You have been gone so long I fear I may be losing my mind!”

His heart was clearly breaking.

“No, my love, you are simply tired and weary.”

The Queen wanted so much to share what she had seen in the mirror with her husband. But he would think her mad, or worse, possessed by evil spirits. Still, it seemed to be the only option if she were to convince him to remain at the castle.

“I saw a man’s face in that mirror you gave me, my love. He spoke to me!”

“Oh, my darling,” the King said, appearing to be concerned for her sanity.

“Don’t look at me that way! If you were not gone so often, I would not be plagued with such visions,” she said, paralyzed with panic.