Mirror, Mirror Read online

  When the farmer and his horse came out of nowhere, she didn’t even startle. Instead, holding Katherine’s small hand, she flagged the man down. His face was weather-beaten and his clothes ragged, but he looked kind.

  “Please, sir,” Ingrid said, using her sweetest, most endearing voice, the one she usually only used for Katherine. “Would you have any need for my sister and I to do work on your farm? We’ll work hard, sir. We are orphans,” she lied quickly, before he had a moment to hesitate. “All we ask for is a place to sleep and some food to eat. In return, we will be loyal apprentices.”

  The man looked from Katherine to Ingrid and back to Katherine again. Then he motioned to the back of his cart. “Come along. We’ll see what we can do.”

  Ingrid helped Katherine up into the hay and climbed in after her. She didn’t realize how tired her legs were till they were sinking deep into the dried wheat. Katherine put her head on Ingrid’s shoulder as the man pulled them through the field. Ingrid put her arm around her sister, but she kept her eyes on that castle on the hilltop. She’d never seen such a beautiful structure before. Foolish though it was, she allowed herself to imagine what life might be like there—a place with abundant food and clothing and no mean fathers. And perhaps some magic, after all.

  Whoever lived there had power, and power was something she’d learned that she needed in this world. It was something she wanted with every fiber of her being. Once she had it, no one would ever be able to push her down again.

  “Your Highness?” Snow felt someone shaking her awake. “It’s time to get up now.”

  Was someone in her room? She opened her eyes and was surprised to find a servant standing over her bed. What was she doing here? No one ever visited her room. She blinked and looked around. Her room was still dark and her curtains drawn. Was it still the middle of the night? Was the castle under attack? Snow had heard the servants talking on more than one occasion. With Aunt Ingrid not being very beloved, a coup was never out of the question.

  Snow recognized this servant—a woman who managed the washing of her aunt’s fine clothes. “Mila, what are you doing here?” Snow asked, sitting up. “Is something the matter?”

  The older woman jumped back as if burned. “You know my name?”

  “Yes.” Snow suddenly felt shy again. “I have heard other servants address you, and . . .” She thought for a moment. “You sing beautifully.”

  Mila touched her chest. “Thank you. I . . .” Her voice petered out. “I’m sorry we’ve never spoken before, Your Highness. The queen . . . she doesn’t like us to . . .”

  Snow knew what she was trying to say. Her aunt felt the servants’ job was to serve her, not her niece. “It’s quite all right,” Snow assured her.

  Mila smiled. “But today is different. Queen Ingrid asked that I come help you get ready for a journey!”

  “A journey?” Snow had to still be dreaming. Her aunt didn’t allow her to go anywhere outside the castle.

  “Yes!” Mila pulled back the heavy tapestry bedding and helped Snow out of her bed. “Your aunt thought you might like going into the woods to pick wildflowers today.”

  “She did?” Snow still wasn’t sure she believed it. “Are you sure?”

  Mila put her hands on her hips and laughed. “Yes, Your Highness! She gave me the instructions herself last night and told me to help you get ready. She’s sent a gown for you to wear and everything. She wanted you to leave early, before the weather got too warm.”

  Snow watched in wonder as Mila performed the chores Snow had done for herself for years. The servant poured water into the basin and helped her wash up. She made Snow’s bed and tidied her things. She combed Snow’s hair for her and helped her finish it off with a red piece of fabric tied in a bow. Snow couldn’t help feeling weepy. No one had helped her do any of those things since her mother died. Aunt Ingrid had convinced her father she was old enough to fend for herself, but she missed this personal contact. She missed the company of her mother. Looking in the mirror as Mila tied her bow, Snow couldn’t help thinking of her mother doing the same thing. To Snow, one day blurred into the next. But today . . . today would be different! Her aunt had somehow heard her heart’s desire to leave the castle and see another part of the kingdom . . . if only for a few hours.

  She was surprised at the gesture, especially after what had happened the day before. Aunt Ingrid had summoned her to the throne room that afternoon and questioned her about Henrich, after spotting him talking to Snow in the gardens. She hadn’t seen her aunt in ages (could it have been a year?), but she looked exactly the same. It was as if she never aged.

  “You allowed a stranger to walk our grounds and did not alert the guards! You disobeyed me,” the queen scolded as a few of the guards stood watch. “How many times must I tell you not to talk to strangers?”

  Snow looked at her clogs. “I’m sorry, Aunt Ingrid, but Henri seemed so kind. He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “Henri?” Aunt Ingrid repeated, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “So you spoke to the intruder long enough to learn his name?”

  Snow’s cheeks flushed. Her aunt was not pleased, but maybe she could appeal to her senses. “He’d come to discuss a trade agreement with you. I told him you’d be upset he came uninvited and suggested he try to make an appointment. I told him to leave.”

  Aunt Ingrid sat forward on her throne, both of her milky white hands gripping the seat’s armrests. “And?”

  “And?” Snow was confused. She liked to tread lightly when in her aunt’s presence. It happened so rarely; she didn’t want to do anything to upset their relationship further. She still had a hard time understanding what she could have done to cause her aunt to pull away in the first place. When her father had disappeared, she’d assumed her aunt would try to draw her closer. Instead, the queen had closed the gates—both literally and figuratively. In addition to getting rid of much of the palace staff, she’d discontinued all the balls from years past, limited visitors, and stopped socializing with anyone—including Snow. It made her wonder if it was her doing. But nothing was ever said about it. Did her aunt even notice how much she did around the castle to keep it from falling into despair?

  Aunt Ingrid sighed deeply. “What else did he say? What did he really want?”

  “He didn’t mean any harm,” Snow said. “He was hoping to meet with you, but I told him visitors were rarely granted an audience with the queen.”

  Her aunt still didn’t look pleased. “Well, he won’t be getting that meeting now. And you will not disobey my orders again. Understood?”

  “Yes, Aunt Ingrid.” She supposed her aunt had a right to be angry. Snow had gone against her wishes. But if only Aunt Ingrid would agree to meet Henri, she’d see he was harmless.

  And yet, just a day later, her aunt had decided to give her a bit of freedom. Maybe their relationship was finally changing.

  Mila held out a dress so lovely that Snow gasped. She lovingly touched the blue bodice with the cap sleeves that had red accents woven throughout and the shining yellow satin. She hadn’t had anything new to wear in a very long time. She almost hesitated to put the dress on—what if she ruined it in the woods? But when else would she have a chance to wear such a fine gown? She slipped into it with glee.

  Next the maid offered Snow a biscuit and some tea from a tray that was already inside her room. Pleased, Snow stared out the window. The sky was still a bluish pink and the sun had not yet risen.

  Mila coughed. “I’m afraid you’ll need to finish your breakfast quickly, Your Highness,” she said regretfully. “The queen’s escort is already waiting for you.”

  Snow stopped mid-sip of tea. “Already? But it’s not even light yet.”

  “Exactly,” Mila said with a nod. “Your aunt worries for your safety outside the castle walls. Since she isn’t able to travel with you, she feels it’s best that you travel under the cover of darkness so that no one knows you’re leaving.”

  “Oh.” Snow hadn’t thought about
that. She spent her everyday life unnoticed.

  “Besides, it’s a long journey. I took the liberty of packing you a lunch. Off you go now!”

  She was leaving the castle! For that, of course she’d do whatever the queen wanted. Snow was so elated she didn’t even remember to glance at her parents’ portrait before she was whisked out the door to meet her escort.

  Snow recognized the man as soon as she saw him. He was tall and muscular, with dark brown hair worn in a small ponytail, and he had on clothes meant for traveling. She always liked the chance to look someone in the eyes, but this man’s were cast downward. She wanted to ask his name, but he didn’t seem overly social. All she knew was that he had long worked for her aunt, leading hunts to acquire meat for the castle. He was known simply as “the huntsman.” She couldn’t believe her aunt was giving up his services for the day to accompany her.

  He bowed. “Good morning, Princess. We should begin our journey before it gets too light.”

  “Of course,” she said, anticipation drumming inside her. She looked back at Mila and smiled shyly. “Thank you for your help today.” Mila blushed. “Please tell my aunt I’ll bring her back a magnificent bouquet of flowers.”

  Mila curtsied. “Of course, Your Highness.”

  The journey wasn’t as long as Mila had made it out to be, but Snow still enjoyed the ride in the carriage. She had it all to herself since the huntsman was also her driver. She breathed in the fresh air as the horse and carriage bumped along through the quiet streets of the village, where people were just beginning to rise. Soon they were down the mountain and into meadows so lush with greenery that Snow couldn’t believe they were real. The sun was starting to rise in the sky on a cloudless morning, and to Snow, the kingdom had never looked more beautiful.

  Were the fields always this bright and filled with flowers? Was their farmland always this vibrant? Did the apple orchard always have this many trees? She knew her mother had cultivated one herself when she’d lived with a farming family as a girl. They had taken her and Aunt Ingrid in, and her mother had worked tirelessly to return the favor, helping their orchard grow and bloom. She would have loved to stop and look at those trees and picture her mother picking the finest fruit from the branches, but she didn’t want to be so bold as to ask the huntsman to do that. She was truly grateful to be outside the castle at all. It had been too long since she’d been allowed to see the countryside full of small cottages with people taking care of crops or horses and cows. She wanted to soak in every image and never forget a moment of it. Who knew when she would be able to take another journey?

  After the carriage came to a halt, the huntsman came around to her door and unhooked the latch. He still didn’t make eye contact with her. “We are here, Your Highness,” he said stiffly.

  “Thank you!” she said, hurrying to get out and be free. A northern lapwing—one of her mother’s favorite birds—flew past her, chirping excitedly, as if it, too, knew how momentous it was to see Snow in this very spot. She gathered her things and looked around the meadow. They were in a hilly grove, with tall grass and flowers growing freely in patches. There were so many varieties and colors; she couldn’t wait to start designing the perfect bouquet. She started gathering blooms right away, humming to herself as she walked. In the distance she could see a forest that light didn’t seem to touch. The trees that rose from it were mostly dead. Perhaps a fire had destroyed this land once before. It struck Snow as strange that two contrasting worlds could be so close to one another.

  “We’ll head that way,” the huntsman said, pointing to the dark woods. He flung a sack over his back. It seemed rather heavy.

  Snow didn’t want to doubt her escort, but it seemed an odd choice. Then again, perhaps he knew something about the terrain she did not. He surely had more experience

  in these parts than she did. They ambled toward the dead trees, Snow stopping every few steps to observe their beautiful surroundings more closely.

  Spotting a daisy in her path, Snow knelt down to pick it up. She held it close. “Are you hungry?” she asked the huntsman shyly. “I’m sure Mila packed enough for the two of us.”

  He looked at her for a moment before replying, “No, Your Highness.” He put out his hand to allow her to go first. “After you.”

  “Sir?” Snow moved ahead, picking a few wild roses that grew like vines along the grass. “I don’t even know what to call you. What is your name?”

  “You may call me the huntsman. That is what my queen calls me.”

  Maybe it was the newfound freedom—it was making her bolder than she’d ever been. “I’m sure you have a name,” she prodded. “It would be a much more enjoyable outing if I could call you by it.”

  “There is no need,” he said, wiping his brow as he looked around.

  Oh, well, Snow thought, giving up the effort. She supposed he did have a job to do, after all. Maybe he couldn’t protect her and be social at the same time. Either way, she wouldn’t let the huntsman’s mood dampen her spirits. Snow pulled the beautiful new cloak she’d been given around her shoulders. The air was still a bit cool this early in the day, but it felt good on her skin. Perhaps she could gather enough blooms to make several arrangements for the castle. And once they had wilted, she could collect those that had seeds and try to replant them by the aviary.

  The thought of the aviary and the gardens reminded her of Henri. They hadn’t spoken long, but she could tell he had an easy charm about him. If only he could convince Aunt Ingrid to meet with him, she’d surely see he was an honorable man. Though, in truth, he was probably already on the way back to his kingdom. The thought saddened her. Why hadn’t she been bold enough to suggest they meet again? Then she laughed. She’d never thought such things before! It had to be the mountain air giving her such wild ideas.

  A sudden sound made Snow stop in her tracks. Something was floundering in the grass up ahead. Rushing over, she spotted a baby bird. It must have fallen from its nest or flown into a tree. It kept hopping around, attempting to fly and then fluttering down to the ground again. She scooped it up in her hands.

  “Are you all right?” she asked the bird, as if it could answer. She stroked its feathers and felt it shaking beneath her touch. “Poor thing. I think he must have fallen,” she said, trying to engage the huntsman in conversation again.

  If he was still behind her, he didn’t say anything. Snow decided to keep talking.

  “I can’t tell if he’s hurt or just stunned. Don’t worry, little friend. I’ve got you.” She had a sudden flashback of her mother doing the same thing while she stood watch. She smiled at the thought, then turned her attention back to the bird. “Do you want to try to fly again?” she asked it, happy to have someone else to talk to for a moment. She placed it back on the ground. “Go ahead. Give it a try.” As if following her instructions, the bird hopped twice, then flew off.

  Pleased, she watched the bird take flight. She was ready to tell the huntsman about her mother’s love of birds when a shadow fell over her. She looked up in surprise to see the huntsman’s grave face.

  It was mere seconds before her surprise turned to gut-wrenching fear. The huntsman held a knife high above her head.

  Sweat pooled on her skin, and her limbs began to shake. Even with her animal instincts taking over, it took her a moment to register what she was seeing. The huntsman had a knife. Her blood ran cold as she realized she was backed up against a large boulder, with nowhere to run. She knew what was about to happen. Snow felt herself falter, tripping backward as her hands came up to protect her face. It was silly, really. There was no stopping the knife, and yet she screamed, the sound of her voice echoing through the meadow. She heard some birds take off from a nearby tree at the sound, but there was no one else to hear her. So this is how I die, she thought, holding her breath and waiting for him to strike.

  Instead, she heard the knife clang to the ground.

  Snow moved her hands from her face and saw the huntsman bend down in front of her
. He looked up. It was the first time she had seen his eyes. They were green.

  “I can’t do it!” he wept, his face crinkling with despair. “Forgive me. I beg you, Your Highness. Forgive me. She’s mad, jealous of you. She’ll stop at nothing.”

  His words didn’t make sense. Someone was jealous of her? Why? But there was no time for questions. The huntsman could pick his knife back up at any second. This was what her aunt had always warned her about; being princess made her a target. This was why she had kept Snow so secluded. It turned out her aunt had been right.

  Shocked, she started to run, her heart still pounding like a drum. She’d taken only a few steps when she fell forward. She threw her hands out in front of her and braced for the fall, landing hard in a patch of flowers. Her finger tore on a thorn from a rosebush.

  Mother, help me, she thought as she stared at the blood trickling down her finger. She heard her mother’s voice clear as day, just as she had the other night in her dreams. If you want something, sometimes you have to take risks, she had said. What would her mother do right now?

  The answer was clear. Her mother had never been one to balk at a challenge. In everything she did, she was bold and unabashed, no matter what tradition or precedent dictated: from her ruling to her aviary to her role as a mother, she had set out to find solutions and to help. Yes, it was clear to Snow that her mother would want answers. She’d want to know who wanted to kill her, and to make sure that person could not harm her or anyone else.

  Still shaking uncontrollably, Snow picked herself up and slowly turned back to the huntsman. Her steps were sluggish but steady as she reached the man, still kneeling on the ground. Every fiber in her being told her to run again, and yet she held her ground. “Who? Who wants to kill me, huntsman?”

  He looked up, seeming surprised she even had to ask. “Why, the queen!”

  Twenty-four years earlier

  Katherine dropped the basket on the table with a thud. “That’s the last bushel for the week. Ten in all! If that won’t bring in a fair sum at the market, I don’t know what will.”