From the Indie Side (10 page)

“Have I been cruel? Have I been demanding or
unkind? I stayed away from you,” Stephen shouted impotently,
“because I feared that I was the cause, I was the reason that she
ended herself, and I did not wish to push you to such dire ends!”
He placed his forehead in his hand and Joanna did not know if it
was rage or despair which caused his shoulders to tremble. He
seemed trapped in the memories of what had happened before. “Why
would history repeat itself?” he asked to no one. “I have done
everything different. I have walked the exact opposite path.
Perhaps it is my own inattention which has caused you so much
grief…”

“Nay…” she began.

He looked up at her, his brown eyes burning
with remorse. “I shall give you all the riches you could ever
desire,” he promised. “I shall shower you with wealth and joy! But
you must not sin against yourself again!”

And the next day, her room was filled with
jewels and gold. New gowns were laid upon the bed. Birds and
monkeys and every delight were brought before her to try and make
her smile.

But when she went to bed, the dream returned.
Her feet were upon the walkway. Her legs carried her to the top of
the castle parapet. And once more, it was a guard who saved her
from jumping to her death.

As she was carried back to her room, she
caught the face of Queen Mary scraping the inside of the mirror,
trying to break through.

“Staaaaay awaaaaay!” the queen hissed.

The next day and the next, the pleasures and
gifts doubled. They were piled at her feet for the taking. Carriage
horses. Hunting parties. Acrobats. New fools. New ladies. The
rights of her people stolen in the war, restored. Sacred land was
returned to northern rule.

And yet every night she found herself upon
the parapet. No matter how many ladies slept in watch, no matter
how many bolts were thrown in the door, her feet found a way to
begin the death march.

The advisors began to whisper that her
madness was caused by want of motherhood, that a child would calm
her hysteria.

Finally, King Stephen said at the morning
meal, “I shall come to you this evening. I shall fulfill my duties
as your husband and king.” And then he got up and left the table, a
man condemned.

Joanna could have wept. Finally. King
Stephen’s actions would protect her from her uncle, her life would
be preserved, her promise fulfilled. She had wooed him. And
perhaps, she tried to comfort herself, this madness had been
brought by the knowledge of her impending death at her uncle’s hand
if she did not capture this king. Perhaps the advisors were right
and the solution was a child. Perhaps, once this night was done,
she would fear looking in a mirror no more.

She waited anxiously for night to fall.

When King Stephen entered her chambers, her
lady-maids politely excused themselves and scattered.

Stephen’s face was pained. Joanna knew from
his nightly visits to his queen’s chapel that he did not wish to be
in the room with her. But she did not care. She would see it
through, no matter what the cost to Stephen. She would do whatever
it took to stop the dead queen’s curse. He began unlacing his
doublet. Joanna waited. And then she looked into her mirror and
screamed.

It was her face. Queen Mary’s face. She was
coming out of the glass. The mirror wept scarlet. And that was when
Joanna realized that when Stephen had sworn anyone who might follow
him at night would die, it was not by his hand. It was by hers, by
his Mary, his jealous Mary. It was her hand which kept him bound to
death.

“STAY AWAY!” Queen Mary screamed, her voice
mingling with Joanna’s terror.

The king turned, scanning the room for the
danger that caused her fear.

“The Queen!” Joanna said, her hand trembling
as she pointed at the mirror. “The Queen!” she cried out again.

Stephen’s face paled as he shook his head
disbelievingly. “What?”

“She is there!” Joanna sobbed. “Right
there!”

Stephen shook his head, as if waking from a
dream or a spell. He swiftly tied his garments and strode out of
the room, leaving Joanna alone with nothing but the mirror.

“Staaaaaay awaaaaay…” Queen Mary hissed.

Joanna’s ladies rushed inside to calm her
hysteria, to stroke her hair and murmur words of comfort, but it
was no use.

The blood that dripped from the mirror did
not disappear.

And in the morning, the broken body of one of
Joanna’s ladies was found upon the ground outside the castle. The
whispers began that the madness of Queen Joanna was catching, a
poison which would invade the mind and lead to death.

But Joanna knew the truth. It was not her,
but the queen in the mirror, who caused these terrible deeds.

Her girl’s death was Queen Mary’s
revenge.

And it would never end. She knew it. It would
never stop. Mary would never allow her husband to move on. The
wedding would have to be annulled if either of them hoped to
survive. And so Joanna strode into the throne room where her
husband held court. Her ebony hair hung loose and unbrushed. The
ties on her clothing were held as best she had been able to do
herself. She did not care. It could not wait. His advisors and
attendants were busy discussing matters in the cavernous hall and
paid her no mind. She walked up to Stephen on his dais, not pausing
to curtsey or even acknowledge his place with a tilt of her head.
Instead, she gripped his arm fiercely.

“Your wife is alive,” Joanna said, knowing he
would not believe her.

The king looked at her as if she were a
raving madwoman. “What did you say?”

At the sound of his voice, the entire room
stopped and looked at the royal couple.

“I said,” Joanna answered, lowering her
voice, “That your old wife is alive.”

Her words struck him like a blow to the face.
“How could that possibly be?” said King Stephen, pity in his eyes.
“If she is alive, where is she?”

Joanna wet her lips. “She lives in the
mirrors of the palace.”

The court broke out into titters, and then
into guffaws, and then gales of laughter.

“I speak the truth,” she insisted, hot tears
of embarrassment coming to her. “She has bewitched you, my liege.
She lives in the mirror and will stop at nothing to destroy
us.”

“My wife,” he replied slowly and succinctly,
so that there would be no misunderstanding his seriousness, “is
dead. And, the gods rest her blessed soul, she would never seek to
destroy a woman so unworthy to be her successor as you. You will
never speak to me about this again.”

“But my liege—”

“NEVER!” he roared.

Her face burning with shame, she swiftly left
the room with the few shreds of dignity that she could gather
around herself.

How could he not believe her? How could he
not see that his dead wife would drive them both to an early
grave?

“Leeeeeave hiiiimmmm allllooooone!” hissed
the queen as Joanna passed by a mirror.

Joanna looked around and found a pedestal.
With all her strength, she lifted it and hurled it at the mirror,
shattering it into a thousand pieces.

The courtiers in the hallway stopped. Silence
descended as they all stared in shock.

“GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS!” she screamed at
them, and then ran on down the hall, brushing the wetness from her
cheeks.

She grabbed a servant who was scurrying by.
“You must remove every bit of gold, every bit of glass. Cover every
mirror. Sand every piece of wood to dullness! Nothing can remain
which will show a face in its surface!”

“My queen?” the servant stuttered,
unsure.

“Am I or am I not your queen?” she roared.
“You will do as I command!”

The servant bowed and then ran to spread word
of her edict.

The whispers now began that this mad queen
was a pious woman and wanted not the trappings of royalty. People’s
hearts began to soften, thinking that it was their own suffering
that caused her to suffer so. But the king, finding his golden
goblet replaced with a wooden cup, upended the table in the banquet
hall and decreed that only gold and silver fill his house. And he
called for his own personal physician to look in upon the
queen.

His men held Joanna down upon her bed as a
black-robed man peered into her eyes, bled her from her arms and
legs, placed leeches upon her temples, and found no solution.

“She seems to be bent upon self-harm,” said
the court physician to King Stephen. “There is little else I can
do.”

“I do not wish myself harm!” Joanna insisted,
struggling against the strong hands restraining her, begging for
them to listen to her and believe. “The queen is alive and drives
me to my death!”

The physician took Stephen aside. “She raves.
Perhaps a priest should be called to hear her confession, in case
she has been possessed by an evil spirit,” the physician
suggested.

“Please,” Joanna whispered. “Please, do.
Anything!” she begged.

But the priest merely looked at her and shook
his head. He anointed her. He assured her he had chased out the
demons and that she was now safe. But as he touched her forehead,
the walls of the room ran red. Blood pooled upon the floor,
ankle-deep. The face of the queen was everywhere. “Jooooannnna!”
she cried. “Jooooaaaannnna!” she said a thousand times.

Joanna screamed for help.

“Please,” King Stephen begged, kneeling at
her side. “Please return to me.” He took her hand tenderly, and for
the first time, she saw love in his eyes.

And she knew what she must do to save
him.

That night, it was not in a dream that Joanna
walked up the steps. It was not by the force of a dead queen that
her feet carried her to the battlement. She looked and waited until
the guard had already passed by. And then, when all was silent, she
stepped from the top of the wall out into the quiet.

As the ground rushed toward her, she heard
the queen’s cry.

As the pain, the blackness, the end engulfed
her… she woke to find herself in a room exactly like her
bedchambers.

Joanna stood, her heart broken, knowing that
she had not escaped. She walked over to the mirror. But this time,
there was no reflection. Instead, it was like a window peering into
a room, a room that seemed to be a mirror image of the one she now
found herself in. It was her own room. The Queen’s chambers.

And then Stephen entered.

He did not seem to see her, and so Joanna
pounded upon the glass to get his attention. “Stephen! Stephen, can
you hear me?”

But he did not turn. He did not acknowledge
her. He just walked into the room with a girl who looked just like
Joanna on his arm. She was dressed in a wedding gown of gold and
white. Tenderly, he kissed her cheek before leading her to the
bed.

Just then, Joanna saw something by her left
hand. A note upon the dressing table, the note from her uncle that
the advisor passed to her a lifetime ago, which she had cast down.
After all this time, it still waited. But the unintelligible words
on the front were suddenly not just scribbles. In her uncle’s
looping scrawl, it said, “Joanna, you shall know when to open
this.”

She picked it up and broke her uncle’s seal
and read: “And so vengeance for your father’s death is meted out.
His curse shall break King Stephen. All that ever touch his heart
with love shall be driven mad and taken from him. And so I thank
you for fulfilling your duty, sweet niece. Your affectionate
uncle.”

The bride in King Stephen’s bed looked over
at her in the mirror and her eyes widened in fear as she saw
Joanna.

And Joanna knew her duty. She screamed out in
warning as she pounded on the glass, “Stay away!”

My research for
Queen Mab
led me to
England, where I crept through old castles and devoured ancient
lore.  Even when the book was done, my heart was still
there.  So when invited to be a part of this anthology, I was
delighted to get to spend more time in that world.  I hope you
enjoyed it, too!  If you’d like to be kept up to date on new
releases, sign up for my newsletter at www.katedanley.com!

Kate Danley is a USA Today bestselling author
and twenty-five-year veteran of stage and screen with a B.S. in
theatre from Towson University.  She was one of four to be
named a Maryland Distinguished Scholar in the Arts.

Her debut novel,
The Woodcutter
(published by 47North), was honored with the Garcia Award for the
Best Fiction Book of the Year, was named the 1st Place Fantasy Book
in the Reader Views Literary Awards, and was the Sci-Fi/Fantasy
winner in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards.  Her book
series
Maggie MacKay: Magical Tracker
was recently optioned
for film and television development.

Her plays have been produced in New York, Los
Angeles, and Maryland. Her screenplay
Fairy Blood
won 1st
Place in the Breckenridge Festival of Film Screenwriting
Competition in the Action/Adventure Category.  Her projects
The Playhouse, Dog Days, Sock Zombie, SuperPout
, and
Sports Scents
can be seen in festivals and on the internet.
She trained in on-camera puppetry with Mr. Snuffleupagus and played
the head of a twenty-foot dinosaur on an NBC pilot.  She has
performed stand-up at prestigious clubs like the Comedy Store and
Ice House.  She has over three hundred film, theatre, and
television credits to her name.  She was part of the Ovation
winning cast of
Blake… da Musical!
and recently learned how
to improvise Shakespeare in iambic pentameter.

She lost on Hollywood Squares.

Kate Danley’s other titles: 
The
Woodcutter, Queen Mab, Maggie for Hire, Maggie Get Your Gun, Maggie
on the Bounty, A Spirited Manor, Spirit of Denial, and Reborn: A
Dead Man Adventure