Sneaky Snow White (Dark Fairy Tale Queen Series Book 2) (7 page)

There’s an unhealthy smell, like dust and old moisture. The stone walls are speckled with black mold. I turn a crank on the wall which lowers a hanging rack of candles, the chain clanking and shuddering. I walk around the circular frame, lighting the candles with my torch. Then I crank it high again.

The orangey gloom reveals several tables, a large cauldron sitting in a fire pit, bottles and jars of weird substances, and a bookstand that holds an ancient-looking volume, thick as four of my fingers. I stick the torch into a bracket and turn the crackling pages. There has to be something here I can use.

Most of the spells seem petty to me. Spells that cure warts, restore lost teeth, or change the color of your eyes. I don’t need any of that. The section on curses is more interesting. Sure would be fun to give Cinderella a snout like a pig. Or huge, hairy feet! She’s always been obsessed with her feet, they’re even smaller than mine. But no - that isn’t good enough. I need something deadly.

For a minute, I think I found one. An aging curse that causes the victim to grow old and die within a week. But as I read the spell, I see it must be cast on the victim’s birthday. That’s seven months away for Cinderella. I can’t wait that long.

I continue to search, pausing now and then to check over my shoulder. That old lady made me nervous. She clearly has magic of some kind or other. A witch, perhaps. A witch on Cinderella’s side. I did not need that kind of stress.

I turn a few pages more and find a spell that somebody marked with a black feather.
Curse of Eternal Sleep,
it says. It calls for poisoning an apple with a special brew and then feeding the apple to the victim. One bite is all that’s needed, and the victim will sleep forever. Not really dead, but not alive either.

I smile.

It’s perfect.

The old lady doesn’t want me hurting Cinderella. Very well, then. I won’t hurt her. I’ll just help her take a nice little nap.

Forever.

I wait for Hunter by the well, as promised. For some reason, Cooper insisted on coming with me. I argued that I didn’t need him – I prefer to be alone with Hunter – but he wouldn’t listen. The Wood is a dangerous place, he said. The only reason I gave in is because I’m still afraid of the old lady.

I wait until long after noon. Finally, a little peasant boy I’ve never seen rushes into the grove with a scrap of parchment in his hand. He bows. “For you, m’lady. From Mr. Hunter.”

I shake out the parchment and read it.

Snowy - The queen gave birth during the night. She is well but needs my care. I’ll come to you when I am able. -H

H? How hard could it have been to write out his full name? Couldn’t he have ended with some reassuring words of love? That’s what I would have done if I had written a note. Was he in such a rush to get it over with?

I crunch the note in my fist and look at the boy. “You may tell ‘H’ that ‘S’ is not pleased. Can you remember that?”

The boy nods and, sensing my anger, runs away quickly. I stalk a circle around the grove, fuming to myself. So the child is here. At least that makes things easier. I wasn’t sure if Cinderella could deliver the baby while under a sleeping curse. Now I don’t have to worry.

“What happened?” Cooper asks. He’s standing under an apple tree, his thick arms folded.

“Hunter isn’t coming,” I snap.

“All right, then let’s go back.”

“No. Take me to the cottage.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not asking you to think! You’ll do as I say.”

“So, you’re the queen now, eh?”

I sigh. Why does everyone keep saying that?

Cooper walks up to me, and without hesitation, scoops me up like a toddler. “Let’s go, little miss.” He tosses me over his shoulder.

“Put me DOWN!” I shout, pummeling his back with my fists. Then I notice how high I am, how the apples are right at my eyelevel. There’s a big, beautiful red one hanging within my reach. I snap it off the branch before Cooper carries me away.

“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall – I need to see Hunter right now.”

At least The Mirror is cooperative. The scene opens up for me. I see Cinderella resting in bed, her back propped up with pillows. She looks pale and tired, but she’s smiling. Her arms curl around something small, rolled in a blanket, and I can just make out the curve of a tiny red cheek. The baby. I never wanted her to see it.

Then Hunter steps into my view and sits on the stool by Cinderella’s bed. At first I’m confused because Hunter is also holding a small bundle. And then I realize it’s-

Another baby! Oh my stars, she had TWO!

Well, that’s just peachy! Look at this mess, it’s like Cinderella and I have traded places. Now I’m the Evil Queen and she gets to live in a cottage with Hunter. They look like a sweet little family. I clench my fists until my fingernails bite into my palms. There’s nothing worse than watching somebody else get everything
you
always wanted. It turns your blood to poison.

Which reminds me, I’ve got a curse to cook up.

I try to leave but The Mirror won’t let me. A thought sinks into my head.

You’re not ready.

“What?” I snap. “Just when do you think I’ll be ready? We don’t have much time. As soon as Cinderella feels better, she’ll come marching back here to reclaim her throne.”

The Mirror reminds me of the Dwarves.

“True,” I say. “The guards are gone. I have an army now and she doesn’t. But I can’t stay here forever. I don’t want to be the queen.”

The Mirror shows me a dazzling image in which I’m sitting in the crystal throne. I’m wearing an astonishing dress made entirely of white feathers. My hair has been piled high on my head, a bouquet of black swirls behind a diamond tiara. Blood red roses are dropped in my lap and sprinkled around me on the black marble floor. It’s a striking picture, though I don’t understand the point of the roses. But clearly, The Mirror wants me to be the queen.

The Mirror…
wants.

I lift my eyes to the top of The Mirror. “What are you? Why do you have feelings like a person?”

The aura begins to recede from me.

“No, don’t you go away. I need to understand. You were nice to Cinderella once. And then you rejected her. Why? Was is really because you thought I was fairest? Why are you doing all this?”

Like before, a word slides into my thoughts.

Revenge.

And then the aura drops off me and I feel nothing more.

Revenge? That’s an interesting word. Especially coming from a thing that hangs on the wall. Why does a mirror want revenge?

I return to the scary lair and read the spell for the poisoned apple. It looks tricky. The spell must be begun at midnight and concocted in total darkness, with no light other than that of the fire below the cauldron. At first I’m worried because it calls for black rose petals which I didn’t think existed. Then I find a full jar of them on a shelf. You must boil the petals for three hours in a pot of new-fallen rain, stirring once an hour while chanting the name of your victim. Several other ingredients are added, one being ‘A Shriek of Despair’ which I’m not sure I can pull off. Perhaps if I remember how I felt when I lost my mother…. Finally, you must soak the apple until the following midnight. If done right, the apple turns a deep purple color. Not one poisonous ingredient goes into the brew. The poison comes from the hatred in your heart.

I try. The hardest part is getting the new-fallen rain, which is needed to give the spell potency. It takes a week before we have a good downfall. I follow the instructions with scrupulous care, reading every step three times over. But after the long simmer, my apple is nothing but a squishy brown lump.

I wait for more rain and try again. The second apple boils down to nothing but skin, limp as a dead leaf.

“Why?” I rage at The Mirror. “What am I doing wrong?” The response is simply to keep trying. But I’m losing patience. Hunter and I no longer meet at the well, I’ve heard nothing from him since Old Cinders had her babies. I look in on them a few times but all it does is make me angry. Cinderella is very weak, she can’t even stand without help. Hunter never leaves her side, often holding one baby while she tends the other. He smiles often but his face looks troubled. At night, while Cinderella sleeps, he sits by the fire with his eyes closed and his mouth pressed into his fist. I hope he is missing me terribly.

The Dwarves, meanwhile, are driving me nuts! They destroyed the palace with their mock battles, I honestly think they break things for the fun of it. And I’m getting awfully tired of having slabs of meat for supper. Sometimes they bring strange women to the palace, sometimes they light a fire and sing loud, bawdy songs while drinking tankards of ale. It’s like living with a barbarian horde.

“Cooper!” I say one sunny morning that promises no new rain for my spell. “Get your brothers and meet me in the throne room. It’s time to give you guys something constructive to do.”

When the Dwarves assemble, I don’t waste words. “This place has been Cinderella’s castle for too long. She may like empty rooms and black floors but I don’t. You want to break something? Fine. I want you to smash all of these marble floors. We’ll replace them with something more cheerful. And let’s get some new furniture, and some carpets too.”

“So the queen’s not coming back?” Cooper asks.

“Certainly not. I am the queen now.”

“I could make some furniture,” says one of the Dwarves. “I was trained as a carpenter.”

“And I’m a stone mason,” says another.

“Beautiful,” I say. “Let’s fix up the castle and then we’ll have a coronation ceremony. You’ll all be rewarded for helping me.”

“What about Hunter?” Cooper asks.

I smile. “Hunter will be the king, of course.”

The Dwarves grin. They like that idea.

“That’ll make us princes!” Barker says.

“The women will come flocking,” says another Dwarf. “Maybe we’ll finally get some wives!”

“I want three!” Barker cries.

That makes me laugh. “Sure! Anything you want. Just fix up the palace for me. And please, no more battles.”

The Dwarves agree and talk about finding tools for the project. Cooper stays with me when they leave. He follows me out of the throne room and into the parlor. “Where are you going?” he asks.

“Up to The Mirror for a while.”

Cooper puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me around. “You were up there for five hours, yesterday. Give it a rest.”

“I just want to talk to it.”

“It’s changing you.”

“It’s teaching me things.”

“Not good things. You were nicer before.”

“I am exactly the same.”

Cooper points at me. “You want Hunter to like you, you gotta stay nice. You turn into some Evil Queen and he won’t want you no more.”

“I’m not turning into the Evil Queen! Besides, Hunter would love me no matter who I became.”

“He’s just a boy, not a hero. You gotta do your part.”

“And what
is
my part, oh wise one?”

Cooper leans down and scowls in my face. “Stay nice!”

My third attempt at the poisoned apple is a failure. This is exhausting. It’s not easy staying up all night, stirring a cauldron in the dark. I have to sleep until late afternoon to recover.

“Maybe I should try something else,” I say to The Mirror. I’m sitting on the floor in front of it, too exhausted to stand up. “I’m just not magical. This isn’t going to work.” I stare at my glum face in the glass and wait for The Mirror to respond.

It shows me a scene. A young woman, wearing a red hooded cloak, is walking through the palace garden. Snow has fallen around her, dusting the paths and dead flower beds in white. Her skin is pale, her hair is black, and at first I think the young woman is me. But as I continue to watch, I realize it’s my mother.

Oh! I rise onto my knees and press my hands against the glass. My mother! I want to sob at the sight of her elegant face. I never thought I’d see it again.

She looks unhappy. The Mirror makes me understand she is grieving because she can’t have a child. The first two died within her. She sits on a bench of black ebony wood, next to a bush stripped by winter to nothing but branches. Something catches her eye. A single rose blooms on this bush, red as a cherry, and sprinkled with snow. I can feel my mother’s thoughts. She doesn’t want the rose to die in the cold and so she tries to pluck it from the bush. But in doing so, she pricks her finger. Three drops of blood fall into the snow. My mother gazes at the beautiful red spots on their frosty carpet of white. The drops of blood glitter, bright as rubies, and my mother realizes her blood contains magic.

Carefully, my mother scoops up the droplets. Shutting her eyes, she closes her other hand over the blood and snow. “I wish I had a daughter with skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony, and lips as red as blood.” When she opens her hands, the droplets are gone. My mother smiles, knowing that somehow, her wish will come true.

So that’s how I got my name. She never told me. More importantly, I know now that my mother possessed magic. It lived inside her blood. I wonder if the scary lair was once hers and if she added her blood to the spells to make them work. It makes sense. I doubt there’s magic in my blood, though. I have never seen it sparkle like that. But The Mirror’s message is clear. There is magic within me. I simply have to discover where it lives.

Three weeks pass without a hint of rain. It doesn’t matter. That curse won’t work until I find the magic within me. If it exists at all. Meanwhile, I’m happy with The Mirror’s company.

It shows me wonderful things. Scenes from my days as a small child when my father would kiss the tip of my nose. My mother stroking my hair and singing while I slept in her lap. Climbing into the lap of my grandfather and laughing when he tickled my face with his beard. I remember what it’s like to have a family. To feel complete.

But not everything I see is enjoyable. The Mirror shows me savage arguments between my mother and father. He wanted another child, a boy to rule the kingdom. My mother, who nearly died bringing me into this world, did not. She insisted I could rule the kingdom just as well. My father wouldn’t listen. He even grabbed her collar and shouted in her face. She would have a son or she would go to the devil! The crown had always passed to the male heir.