Fairly Wicked Tales (20 page)

“No one will ever be like you. You are my heart.” I tucked a loose strand of ebony hair behind her ear. “If she bothers you so, I shall see what can be done.”

“
Done?
Send her away. I do not want her here.”

“Her dismissal will make you happy?”

Snow nodded, her lips twisted in satisfaction as she played with the crimson folds of her cloak. “People say you are a … witch. Is it true?” Her dark eyes darted from the planked table strewn with jars, plants and insects, to the bookcases lining the round, stone walls. Her gaze landed on the row of black pots hanging near the hearth.

I met her question with a shrug. “That is naught for you to worry about. Now tell me, my darling, how have you been spending your day?”

“I just now woke.”

My glance sharpened on her. Since her first bleed, Snow had become listless—except for the strange fits of rage occasionally overtaking her. I had tried many herbs to correct the imbalance in her humors. Had daily collected her urine looking for discoloration. All to no effect. Perhaps a change in diet …

“Did you hear me?” Snow stomped her foot. “I said, ‘I have naught much else to do’.”

My brow arched at the accusation in her voice. “Whose fault is that? You ran three tutors off this month. All left with nary a word. You—”

“Papa would not have lectured me so.” Snow White’s chin trembled.

Immediately, my indignation softened. “I miss him too.” Especially with the Council foisting another suitor on me. They wanted me remarried to safeguard the kingdom, but how could I do that to Snow? She deserved better than to have her father replaced by another. My hand brushed against the soft velvet of her hood. “Where are you off to? The sun is low in the sky.”

“Nowhere,” she said, eyes averted.

Unease settled around my shoulders like a mantle. “Are you staying within the castle walls?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I can only protect you if—”

“Must we go over this—again?” Without waiting for an answer, she stormed from the room. The door slammed shut behind her.

My worried gaze drifted across the tapestry lined walls before coming to the row of cooking pots. Had Snow gone against my wishes? The candles flickered in the drafty air. I fetched my shawl and cocooned myself in its warmth before grabbing the smallest of the pots. I tossed in a few dried ingredients from the jars and set the pot upon the fire with a drop of rose oil. Soon, I would learn the answer to my question.

I waited for the mixture to heat. The smoke would sharpen my visions. Allow me to delve into the past. When gray wisps rose from the pot, I picked up a hand mirror from the table—then frowned. Dull green eyes stared back at me. Red hair streaked with grey. A crevassed face.

Magic—and motherhood—had taken their toll.

I let loose the thought, and my reflection blurred, becoming a shifting kaleidoscope of white and gray. The swirling haze dissolved into an image of Snow White, hood drawn, as she pushed open a tavern door. Her eyes scanned the darkened interior. She picked her way between tables, came to a stop in front of a drunken lad sitting alone in a corner. He glanced up, his eyes widening when she held out a hand. Together, they walked from the tavern.

Snow led him down a narrow, deserted street crowded by buildings darkened with soot, their exposed framing weathered and aged. She pushed the lad against a wall. Their lips touched, and my hand shook, causing their image to waver. A flash of white followed by a spurt of crimson made me cry out for I knew the mirror incapable of a lie.

The lad fought against the lips clamped upon his neck. His struggles grew weaker, and he sagged against the wall. A moment later, Snow stepped back. Blood covered her mouth, trickled from the corners. She lifted a sleeve and wiped her mouth clean.

I fell to the floor. Despite years spent studying the magical arts, I had failed.

***

I woke the next morning ragged from the dark dreams that had me tossing and turning through the night. A fire burned in the hearth, but could not warm me. Defeat was wrapped around my chest so tightly I could scarcely draw breath for I knew what needed to be done.

Matilda came toward me with a robe. With downcast eyes, I slipped my arms through the long sleeves, then walked over to the dressing table. Once seated, I clasped my hands in my lap to prevent their shaking.

“The villagers are gathering for a hunt,” she murmured, running a comb through my hair. “Lads have been found murdered. The blood drained from their bodies. There is talk of a vampyre. A female.”

She bobbed her head at my sharp inhalation, her dark eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Terrible, is it not? But do not worry. They will find her. There are witnesses you see.” Her tongue slipped between her lips as she tidied my hair into braids then twisted them atop my head.

“Fetch me my daughter,” I said when she was done pinning them into place.

“As you wish.” She curtsied.

I buried my face in my hands. The thoughts flowing through my head filled me with sorrow.

“You sent for me, Mama?” Snow came into my chambers. I glanced up, drinking in the sight of this precious child.
My
child. She undid the ties holding her cloak in place as she crossed the room toward me. The crimson cloak fell to the floor.

“I know,” I whispered, my throat tightening around the words. “About you, the lads …”

Her face darkened. “You know nothing.”

“It is not safe for you here.” I drew in a ragged breath. “I arranged for the Huntsman to take you on a tour of the Kingdom until this … matter … dies down. You must leave at once. Trouble is brewing. I will have your things sent to our summer palace in the mountains.”

“I will not go.” She scowled. “I will be Queen one day, and they are but peasants. Who is to care if a few go missing? They breed like rabbits. Why should they not be treated as such?”

“Snow …” I whispered.

“What Mama?” Her face twisted into a cruel smile. “You would deny the truth of what I say?”

I gulped back the sour taste rising in my throat. “You will indeed become Queen, which is why you must see your kingdom. You said you have naught to do. You want to go beyond these castle walls. I am giving you what you want.”

Snow chewed her rosy lip, undecided.

I pressed on. “I have heard tell of material brought back from the East so smooth and shiny it rivals the rarest of gems.”

“Why did you not speak of this before?”

“I knew it would be many moons before merchants would venture this far—if at all. Most will not travel through our woods since the King’s death. They fear the forest is haunted.”

“I am not afraid,” she boasted. “I shall leave at dark.”

“No. Day is upon us, and the villagers are gathering. They will hunt during the daylight, knowing vampyres are at their weakest. You must leave before they figure out it is you they seek.”

“Very well.” She bent down to retrieve her cloak.

“Leave it,” I whispered.

She glanced at me, her eyes questioning. When I said nothing, she stomped her foot. “This shall be the last time I take orders from you. Upon my return, I shall be crowned Queen for the title is mine—not yours.” She picked up her skirts and stalked from the room.

I stared after her, wanting to explain, but unwilling to put words to the actions lying ahead of me. Guilt made my heart pound as I bundled up the cloak.

***

The Huntsman staggered into the castle almost a week later. Puss seeped from long gashes along his sides. Torn strips of fabric were wrapped around his head, throat, and upper thigh.

“What happened?” I cried, rushing to his side. I pushed his weakened form onto the bench in the Great Hall, my hands already busy uncovering his wounds.

“I was attacked, your Majesty.”

“And Snow?” I sent a servant for my herbs to make a poultice. “Did she make it to the palace safely?”

He shook his head, his gaze skirted mine. “She was captured.”

My hands stilled upon his wounds.

“There is more I must tell you.” The Huntsman pressed his hand against the cloth wrapped around his neck. My breathing quickened, and I dismissed the servants gathered around us. When we were alone, he said, “Snow … attacked me. I was gutting a deer so we could dine. The fresh blood made her …” His eyes closed. The words that came forth seemed dredged from his nightmares. “Her eyes became red like the devil’s. She leapt upon me and tore at my flesh. I tried to defend myself but …” A tear shone on his lashes. He dashed the wetness away. “The dwarfs heard my screams and saved me.”

“Saved you? How?”

“They encircled her in chains. Clapped thick silver bands around her wrists that drained her of energy … though did not seem to cause her undue harm,” he added, sensing my alarm. One of his hands closed upon mine. “I told them you would want her death to be painless. You would not want her to suffer.”

“You told them I wanted her
dead
?”

“Aye.” He grimaced as my hand tightened on his thigh. He had done nothing to save my Snow.

Catching sight of the servant I had sent for my herbs, I beckoned him forward. He dropped the bag in my hand and hastily withdrew. I mashed together the herbs, while I plotted my next move.

“Where did they take her?”

“They would not say, your Majesty.”

“They know of her … state?”

“Aye. They thought it of no consequence. The chains they placed upon her …” He shrugged. “They must be steeped in magic.”

“Who else knows of this?”

“No one. Only that she was captured.” The bench creaked beneath his shifting weight. “I realize your concern is Snow White, your Majesty, but the villagers captured a lass, Matilda—your handmaiden. They think she is the vampyre. They say they have proof. A cloak. And witnesses who saw a dark-haired girl.”

“I had not heard,” I lied.

His light brown eyes pleaded with me. “You know, she is not guilty. Help me to free her. We are to be married. Please—she is to be staked.”

I glanced away. “Something shall be done at once.” My hand shook as I reached inside the bag of herbs and withdrew several purple berries. I ground the dried nightshade into the poultice, the action doing much to disguise the trembling that might give me away. I rubbed the paste onto his wounds, then covered his neck and leg in thick swathes of cloth. “Jarrod, thank you for all you have done. You have served me well.”

“Thank you, my Queen,” he said, touching his lips to my hand.

I left the Huntsman and hurried up the stone steps to the tower before my conscience betrayed me. I shut the door behind me and snatched up the mirror to gaze into its depths. The contents swirled before an image of Snow White appeared. She was huddled in the corner of a large room, her legs pressed against her chest. A band of silver was clasped around her ankle, a chain running between it and a metal rung at the stone hearth. My shoulders sagged in relief. The dwarfs had not killed my darling Snow.

I touched the mirror’s surface.

Snow White’s face contorted. She threw back her head and howled. The sound sent chills up my spine, and I took a step back, suddenly fearful of the child I had raised. I set the mirror back on the desk and took a deep breath. I would not rush headlong into a rescue. Caution was needed.

I crossed to the tall looking glass leaning against the wall. I ran a hand down the ancient runes adorning its side. My eyes focused on the symbols, my desire clear, until the cottage in which Snow was held appeared before me. I stepped through the mirror into her world, cloaking myself in a merchant’s disguise.

When I neared the cottage, I closed my eyes and felt the white lines of magic forming a tight shield around it, blocking my entry. The Huntsman had spoken true. The dwarfs were adept at magic. The cords were thick and strong. Seven bands woven as one.

I knocked on the door. The shield could not prevent me from talking to my beloved child.

The dull sound of metal dragging across the earth-packed floor greeted me. The door cracked open. A hand snaked through the slit and grabbed me by the arm then jerked me forward. Pain sliced through my body where the lines of magic were cast. I fell into the cottage, my body aflame. The basket of trinkets I had been carrying flew from my hand.

I almost hit the floor before I was yanked backwards. An arm, crisscrossed with cuts, wrapped itself around my neck. “Old blood,” Snow snarled. “But it will do.”

Sharp points pressed into my neck. My already weak knees buckled. My sudden heaviness seemed to catch Snow by surprise, and I was able to slip from her grasp. I spun toward the door, readying myself for another bout of intense agony, but a short, stocky man blocked my flight. Behind him were six others dressed in heavily padded shirts. Helmets sat low on heads covered in thick, unruly hair. Strapped to their arms were shields, in their hands, daggers.

Snow retreated to the corner.

“Who are you?” the first one said. His red bulbous nose twitched as he stepped toward me, forcing me further into the room.

“A merchant.” I gestured toward the upturned basket lying near the hearth. A faint light emanated from the dwarfs’ helmets and shields. More magic. “I was just taking my leave.”

“How did you pass through the door unscathed?”

“I did not,” I said. “It hurt like demon fire.”

He nodded. “The magic should have killed you.”

The words gave me pause. Had Snow’s hold on me somehow protected me?

His broad brow creased beneath his helmet, his sharp gaze settled on Snow as if he too thought she held the answer. Snow snatched up a pair of colorful laces and retreated again into the shadows. “You are not welcome here. No one is.” He brushed past me to scoop up the basket and the trinkets scattered on the floor.

I glanced at the dull, silver chain looped to Snow White’s ankle. “Why do you keep this child chained?”

“Her strength is unnatural.” He thrust the basket into my arms. “The silver keeps her abilities in check.”

“What is she then?”

A glance passed between him and the other men, who still blocked the doorway. “She is not your concern,” he said. He grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me toward the door.