Fairest of All (5 page)

T
he entire castle was bustling in preparation for the winter solstice. The servants were in a tizzy making everything perfect for the King’s return, and the Queen was seeing to every detail.

“I think we should have the King’s favorite, of course, and then a little something more delicate for the ladies, pheasant I think, in a mushroom and wine sauce. That would be lovely, don’t you think? Wonderful, and some roasted sweet potatoes with rosemary, and I think the King would come to the kitchen personally to thank you if you made your pears in brandy sauce.”

The cook smiled as the Queen continued.

“And if you can manage it, a six-layered cake of chocolate, hazelnut, and cream cheese; a bit rich, but we can serve anise afterward…”

Verona came into the room looking a bit mussed, strands of her hair falling from atop her head, and her cheek smudged with what looked like ash.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, my Queen, but I would like to discuss the decorations. I was wondering if you had anything in mind?”

The Queen looked up from the list she was going over with the cook and smiled at Verona.

“I do, actually. I have many trunks in my private chamber filled with the decorations my father made for my mother many years before I was born.”

Verona looked relieved.

“How lovely, my Queen. Would you like me to start unpacking them?”

The Queen thought about it for a moment and said, “I would love your help, Verona, along with a few of our most capable maids. The mirrors will have to be washed before they are hung, of course, but I would prefer to unpack them myself, if you don’t mind.”

“I completely understand, my Queen.”

Then the Queen looked to the cook and said, “If you’ll please excuse me, I will leave with you the menu I’ve written up. If you have any questions, we can discuss it later this evening.”

“Of course, my Queen,” he responded.

And with that the Queen followed Verona to the Queen’s private chamber. No one in the castle had a key to this room but the Queen and Verona. As the Queen took the key off the little belt under the fold of her blouse, she felt a tinge of nervousness. She slipped the key into the lock, turned it, then slowly opened the door.

Dread.

The room contained all of her mother’s and father’s things: the last of her father’s mirrors, the portrait of her mother, as well as decorations that were lovingly packed away in crates, probably by her own mother’s hands the year before the Queen’s birth. The King had the items moved to the castle when he and the Queen were married.

She had never before had a reason to come into this room, and truth be told, she had tried to avoid it. It was full of fragments of her old life. And now, it felt as if she were stepping into a cold, dark crypt. She noticed Verona shiver too.

The Queen opened the trunk, and a rush of memory flooded over her. The trunk smelled of her father’s house. It’s strange how a scent can call up such vivid memories, practically transporting you back in time—the smell of the shop, the moldy, musty scent of her former home.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she unwrapped the little mirrors, noticing a face that looked much like her mother’s reflecting back at her.

Verona noticed the Queen’s discomfort and decided to make idle chatter.

“You look so much like your mother, I almost thought that portrait was of you.”

“The King said as much when he first came to my father’s shop years ago. I didn’t see it then, but I do now. I almost thought she was looking back at me from these mirrors.”

Verona smiled. She thought to herself how lucky Snow was to have the Queen as her stepmother. And the winter celebration would make the girl so happy. If only those horrible sisters hadn’t decided to stay for the solstice. Verona felt uneasy in the sisters’ presence, and wondered how the Queen did not feel the same way. Why had she invited them to stay for the celebration? Verona dreaded the sound of their rustling skirts and their chattering voices coming down the hall in the morning. Their annoying high-pitched laughs, simpering whispers, and their habit of finishing each other’s thoughts and sentences were far too much for Verona to bear.

She almost wished the sisters would cross the line somehow, do something that would justify the Queen’s asking them to leave. One couldn’t help but focus all attention upon them when they were in the room; they were like that—morbidly appealing. Verona often found herself looking at them in fascination, curiosity, and revulsion, hoping her face did not betray her when the sisters caught her staring at them with a sickening awe.

Snow came into the room, interrupting Verona’s thoughts.

“Lucinda says we are going to put candles and mirrors in the trees like Grandma used to on solstice eve, Momma. Is that true?”

“It is true, my little bird,” the Queen said. “You may help me if you like.”

Snow smiled and said, “I would love to, Momma. Let me tell my cousins I can’t have tea with them and I will be right back.”

The Queen noticed that Verona looked disturbed by something as she watched the girl run off.

“What is it, Verona?”

Verona made a funny pinched expression pushing her lips to the side; she looked as if she were thinking of the right words.

“Speak frankly, please, my friend. Don’t censor yourself on my account.”

“Well, my Queen, those sisters are rather…well, peculiar.”

The Queen agreed.

“I hate to be uncharitable, but what is wrong with those women? They seem quite deranged.”

The Queen could hardly stifle her giggle as she said, “I think they might have had a sheltered upbringing, and it’s made them quite odd.”

Verona laughed, “Sheltered indeed! Perhaps in a damp cellar?”

The Queen giggled outright.

“They look as if they’ve never seen the light of day.”

The Queen never knew Verona to speak ill of anyone, and she loved her all the more for being so frank with her now.

“Why do they paint their faces so white? It’s hideous. They look like absurd dolls brought to life by a mad alchemist!”

The Queen chuckled again. “Stop it now, Verona. You don’t want Snow to hear you, she’ll be back any moment now.”

The two women giggled like little girls while the Queen unwrapped the solstice decorations; the mirrors reflected the light coming from the arched windows on their happy faces.

T
he weeks passed quickly and soon the winter solstice eve was upon them. Snow draped the grounds and the entire castle was infused with candlelight. The Queen imagined how lovely it would appear to the King as he made his way up to the castle. It must look like a magical castle from a fairy tale—a luminescent dream floating against a sea of darkness. Every tree was filled with candles reflected in the tiny mirrors hanging from the branches, casting the light beautifully, making the castle and the grounds otherworldly.

Snow White looked spellbound. It was the first time since those strange sisters arrived to court that the girl seemed to be completely at ease. The Queen wondered where the King’s cousins were; they had waited a fortnight for this evening, and now they were nowhere to be found.

“Snow, do you know where your cousins are?” the Queen asked.

Snow gave her mother a weary look. “I’m sorry, Momma, but I didn’t want to ruin our party.”

“I think you’d better tell me, little bird,” the Queen said more sternly than she had ever spoken to Snow before.

“I’m not quite sure where they are. They were acting so strangely when we went on our walk today, Momma, saying those scary things again…they chased me, yelling nasty things about my first mother and you.…Then they spoke of enchanted fruit…apples that could put a little girl to sleep forever…pears that make you wither away and die.…Then they said they were going to chop me up into little bits and cook me in their stew…!”

Snow’s lip began to quiver, and then she burst into tears. She collapsed onto her stepmother’s breast, sobbing.

“I just ran and ran until I couldn’t hear them anymore, but I kept running, and when I finally looked back they weren’t there. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid to ruin your day.”

The Queen held Snow tightly and rocked her.

“Don’t worry, my darling. I will have someone find them and have them removed from the castle. I think we should wait until after the celebration to tell your father, don’t you?” The Queen motioned to Verona.

“Verona, dear, have the servants search the castle for the sisters, if they are not found, then have the Huntsman and a few of his crew go into the forest and see if they can locate them, I want them brought before me immediately. One of the men should stand guard should they return here.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Verona said, and she hurried up to the castle.

The Queen again turned her attention to Snow White.

“I’m so sorry. I should have never trusted those wicked women alone with you. Can you forgive me?”

“Oh, Momma, those sisters are so wicked. It wasn’t your fault.”

“We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, my bird, but let’s try to put it out of our minds for now. Look! I see your father’s riding party just upon the horizon. I want him to have a wonderful homecoming, my darling. I’m just going to say this one last thing until we discuss this tomorrow—promise me, Snow, should anything like this happen again, you come to me right away? Do you understand? I have to know you will come to me in all things, especially when someone might be trying to harm you. I am here to protect you, my sweet; no matter what, you must trust that you can always come to me.”

“I will, Momma, I promise.”

The Queen kissed her daughter on the cheek. She was ill at ease with the sisters for ruining this day, but for some reason could not quite muster up the anger she so desired. Perhaps it was the joy of the celebration. The Queen’s father had stopped celebrating the solstice after her mother had died. How lovely it would have been to experience this as a little girl. Part of her envied Snow, really.

“Look, my darling bird, see how lovely the castle looks, your father is going to be so pleased,” said the Queen in an attempt to distract the girl from her wicked cousins.

Snow looked toward the castle. Phantom streams of light were floating through its many windows. Snow gasped.

“How is the castle doing that, Momma?” the child asked.

“A very special mirror,” the Queen replied, “My father made it from beveled pieces of glass. It’s a cylinder containing a candle within that projects the shapes upon the wall.”

“Oh, can I go into the ballroom and see it?” the child said excitedly.

“Of course, little bird, you can sneak in for a moment before we go into the great hall for dinner, but be sure to be quick about it.”

“I will, Momma, I promise. Oh, but look, Momma, look! Father is here!”

The Queen and Snow beamed with delight when they saw the King approach. His eyes welled up with tears as he dismounted his steed and embraced them both, first kissing his wife, and then taking Snow into his arms, lifting the girl into the air and kissing each of her plump little cheeks.

“Oh, I’ve missed you both terribly,” he said. He again seemed different. Each time he returned from battle he was a little less himself—and a little bit more at the same time. The experience seemed to both harrow his soul and enrich his understanding of the evils the world held.

The family entered the castle together hand in hand and walked into the great hall, which was adjacent to the ballroom. Snow, remembering that her mother had granted her permission to peek into the ballroom, slipped her hand out of her father’s and entered what seemed to be another world. She stood at the center of the room near the stone table which had the mirrored cylinder perched upon it. Tilley, one of Snow’s favorite ladies at court, was standing nearby, spinning the cylinder when it started to slow its cycle.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Tilley.

“It is!” Snow said, captivated by the images of suns, moons, and stars gliding across the ballroom walls. She imagined how lovely all the ladies in their dresses would look later that evening, spinning in circles along with the music.

Then suddenly the doors of the ballroom burst open and the King entered. He looked enraged. Snow had never seen him the least bit angry, and now—this.

“Snow! What is the meaning of this?” he spat.

“Momma said I could see the ballroom before the feast…” Snow said, her sad eyes pleading with her father for understanding.

His anger did not subside.

“I would have never suspected you of such cruelty, Snow!”

Then, peeking from the large arched doorway, Snow saw them—Lucinda, Martha, and Ruby, their dresses covered in mud, tattered and torn, their hair a frightful mess with little bits of twigs and leaves. There were bright patches of pink skin showing where the white paint had been scraped off their faces, sometimes through to the flesh. And Martha had lost one of her shiny black boots, revealing a green-and-silver striped stocking that had a large hole in the big toe, which she was desperately trying to hide with her other foot.

“I can’t believe you would do such a thing!” said the King.