A White So Red

by Krystle Jones

  For a few seconds he did not speak or look at her. His eyes were fixed forward. “My mother,” he said softly. “She’s standing right there.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mother,” Caspar said, staggering to his feet and taking a step forward.

  Natalia’s gaze sharpened. “What are you doing?” Then she gasped. His eyes were not their usual green – they were violet, glowing like amethysts.

  Before Caspar could get too far, she stepped in front of him and gripped his shoulders. “Caspar,” she said, “don’t listen to her. I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not real. That’s not your mother.”

  “Yes, it is,” Caspar said, eyes misty and still staring past her at the illusion. “She’s calling to me.”

  “Don’t listen to her!” Natalia said fiercely, shaking him, but he smacked her arms away, making her stumble. The trees rustled as a breeze picked up and the snow at his feet began to swirl around him, forming a cage.

  “Caspar!” Natalia screamed.

  “I would be careful, if I were you.”

  A chill ran through her and she slowly turned to find Octavia gazing at her with a smug smile. The formfitting red gown she wore was simple, with long sleeves bursting with black lace at the elbows, and a skirt that flared out at her hips. The Gothic crown sat on her head, atop a complex pile of braids. “Hello, dear,” she said. “If you were coming for a visit, you could have used the front door, you know.”

  Shaking, Natalia forced her body around so she fully faced the Queen. “You would have had me slain on the spot.”

  The Queen laughed lightly, as if she had made a joke. “Don’t be silly, precious. Why would I want to kill my only family?”

  “You tell me.”

  The Queen’s violet eyes flashed as her smile turned cunning. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  “What do you mean?” Natalia asked warily.

  “It’s simple, really,” the Queen said, reaching into a pocket on the skirt of her dress and pulling out an apple, offering it to her. “Eat this, or he dies.”

  Natalia stared at the fruit, looking from it to Caspar. “I don’t understand.”

  The Queen smiled. “He may be alive now,” she said, gesturing with her eyes at the cage, “but the human mind can only take so much torture. Eventually, my dream will put it into overload and it will simply stop functioning. He will be dead in every sense of the word, though his body may continue breathing for years without him actually being aware he’s even living.”

  Natalia’s jaw dropped in horror. “How could you do that to a person?”

  She gave a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know him.” Her long-lashed eyes flicked to Caspar and her gaze grew far-off. “In this world, it’s either kill or be killed,” she said bitterly. “There is no compromise in life.”

  The tension of her choice loomed before her. Natalia bit her lip, feeling her heart sinking lower and lower in her chest as despair took over. She didn’t see any other way out. If she tried to fight the Queen alone, then she could risk getting Caspar – and herself – killed in the process. It was too much to leave to chance.

  She stared at the apple, hesitating.

  “Unsure?” the Queen said, raising a thin brow. “Understandably so. Allow me to sweeten the deal: If you eat this, then I will let your friends go free.”

  “And Rose.”

  The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “You must promise Rose will face no harm.”

  The Queen’s smile tightened. “Rose is dead.”

  “Say it anyway,” Natalia hissed.

  She saw the Queen’s eyes widen slightly but then she smirked. “Fine. As little good it will do you, Rose shall also be free.”

  Natalia’s heart skipped a beat with hope, but she still eyed the Queen with mistrust. “Swear it.”

  The Queen’s smile twitched. “Come again, dove?”

  “Swear it,” Natalia said, biting each word off. “On your life, or the bargain is off.”

  The Queen pursed her lips, her eyes turning murderous. “I see you’ve learned some tricks while in the forest,” she said coldly, pausing. At first, Natalia thought she wasn’t going to say it, but then the Queen said dryly, “I, Octavia, Queen of Thesperia, do hereby swear that if Natalia eats of this apple, Rosymedre – and her pathetic little army – shall be set free.”

  “And unharmed, returned safely to their homes,” Natalia added. “On pain of death.” When Octavia didn’t respond, Natalia raised her brows expectantly and Octavia’s face turned red.

  “They shall be unharmed and returned safely to their homes,” she said quickly. “On pain of death.” The last part she said with more reluctance.

  Natalia shivered, feeling the power of the binding contract sink into her skin, tying the Queen’s vow to her.

  “Now eat,” the Queen said, shoving the apple toward her.

  With shaking hands, Natalia took the apple, running her fingers over its smooth, glossy surface while staring at her reflection. All her memories of the past few days flashed before her. The dwarves, Caspar, Tristan, Malachite, her makeshift army; they would all be unharmed.

  And Rose will finally be free – if she isn’t already dead.

  Natalia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting that small comfort sink in. Maybe someone else can find a way to stop the Queen, she thought, thinking of Tristan and all his talents. Maybe it was never meant to be me. Perhaps I am only a tool being used to create a greater destiny for someone else.

  The Queen watched her, holding her breath. “One bite,” she said seductively. “That’s all you need to take.”

  Natalia found her eyes in the apple’s flesh and closed them briefly, sending up a silent prayer. Then she took one last shaky breath and plunged the apple into her mouth, taking a large, generous bite.

  It was delicious, the best thing she had ever tasted, and completely unlike anything she had ever had before. If love, laughter, and sunlight had a flavor, this would be it. She was so caught up in the feeling of happiness, intoxicating in itself because she had not felt it in so long, that she didn’t notice when the first threads of darkness began stitching away at the corners of her vision, making everything appear hazy. A wave of sudden cold washed over her, and her arm felt very heavy, falling back to her side with a thud. The apple dropped from her hand, tumbling along in the snow before shriveling up and rotting in a matter of seconds. Her heartbeat slowed, each desperate, long pump throbbing loudly in her ears as her legs gave out and she fell to her knees, the Queen’s wicked smile the last thing she saw before she hit the ground and blacked out.

  ***

  He was running.

  Caspar spared a quick glance at the forest behind him, feeling marginally relieved when he saw only darkness. Several sets of yellow eyes appeared in the shadows, and he cursed. He didn’t even know what he was running from, but every survival instinct he acquired as a soldier screamed at him to not stop.

  The sky was deep red, making everything else appear crimson. The thought that it was alien never even occurred to him. A thick wall of black bushes lay ahead. Digging his heels in deeper and kicking up more speed, he burst through the bushes –

  And found himself dangling midair above a misty ravine.

  His mouth opened in shock as he stared into the bottomless gorge below. As he started to fall, his brain somehow figured out he needed to latch onto something. When he turned back toward the cliff, his fingers would not reach far enough and he began to fall. A cry clawed up his throat as he felt the air whoosh past.

  Something flicked out of the trees, wrapping around his waist and halting his rapid descent. He dangled in the air for a few seconds, his whole body shaking every time his heart pulsed, before the rope jerked him back up and into the forest. Leaves scraped his cheeks and hands and he closed his eyes, slamming into something hard and rolling a few times before stopping, facedown. Dizzy, he shook his head and looked up, seeing three
dark figures approaching him before the world stopped spinning and the three figures focused into one. Yellow eyes watched from the shadows, smiling at him with white grins made of long pointy teeth.

  “You always were a stubborn child,” the figure said.

  Caspar’s breath caught at the woman’s voice and his eyes snapped up.

  “You get that from your father, I suppose,” his mother said, stepping into a pool of red light.

  She was exactly as he remembered; long blonde hair the color of corn silk hung to her waist, tinted pink because of the light. He couldn’t tell what color her hunting dress was because of the odd lighting, but somehow he knew it was green. It had been her favorite color since it was the same hue as her irises. He easily remembered that particular detail since their eyes were the same shade. The only thing different about her was her eyes, which were always warm and had little crow’s feet around them, like she was smiling. Now she gazed upon him with a frigid, hungry stare, making him feel cold all over.

  “How is this possible?” Caspar rasped, trying to sit up. “You’re dead.”

  She barely flicked her wrist and the whip responded by pinning him back against the ground. “I never truly left, Caspar,” she said, circling him. “After I died, the memory of me remained alive inside you.” She stopped, her voice dropping a few degrees in temperature. “But you forgot all about me, now that she’s in your life.”

  His brows wrinkled as he struggled to remember whom she was referring. Then a memory flashed through his mind, of a girl with black hair and white skin, and his heart stuttered.

  “Natalia,” he breathed.

  He didn’t know why he called her by her real name when he was so accustomed to using her alias, but the woman who looked like his mother gave a very audible gasp. “That name… it can’t be… is she the same as…?”

  “Yes,” he muttered quietly, his throat suddenly very tight.

  The woman clucked her tongue. “Oh dear, this does present a predicament for you. I bet you were shocked when you saw her. Have you told her yet?”

  “… No.”

  Her eyes narrowed as a tight, cruel smile spread across her lips. “Coward.”

  “She doesn’t need to know, not yet,” he snarled. “She’s been through so much already. I couldn’t bring myself to pile this burden on her, too.”

  “How noble of you,” she said dryly. “Maybe you should have told her before, because now I’m afraid you’ll never have the chance.”

  His brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”

  She gazed upon him with cold apathy. “You’re never going to leave this place, Caspar. You are mine, and mine alone now.”

  The creatures slinked out of the darkness and his eyes widened. They were horrible, having the general shape of a human, but instead of skin, they were covered in black ink. Their mouths were elongated vertically to accommodate the oversized, sharp teeth, and their eyes actually had dark slits, like a cat’s. They crawled toward him, blobs of nothing where their legs were supposed to be, and Caspar tried to inch backward, but the whip held him in place. Each movement made his body heavier, rendering him immobile.

  “You should never have gotten involved with that girl,” his mother said. “You should have left her to her fate.”

  “No!” he snarled, struggling against his binds but to no avail.

  A slimy hand latched onto his ankle. One of the creatures was gaping up at him, its jaw dislodging like a snake’s as it opened its mouth wider, preparing to consume him. He kicked out at it, catching it in the head and sending it reeling backward. More hands clamped down on him, and no amount of bucking or thrashing could throw them off. Pinned to the ground, he gritted his teeth as dead yellow eyes appeared above him and hundreds of white fangs moved in closer, preparing to take his life.

  Suddenly, there was a flash of bright white light and the red forest was gone, replaced by an orchard covered in snow. Disoriented by the quick change in scenery, he collapsed forward, catching his weight with his hands, though his arms trembled so badly he didn’t think they would hold him up.

  The snow was odd. It did not feel the same as the snow he had played in as a boy in the mountains of Elyon. The texture was lighter and it left a gray chalky film across his fingertips. “What is this?” he asked aloud.

  “It’s ash,” replied a smooth voice.

  He looked up, finding a beautiful woman dressed in red standing before him. It took his groggy mind several seconds to place a name to her cold, perfect face. “What did you do to me?” he said, eyes darkening.

  The Queen’s expression remained serene. “Nothing, for the most part, except remove you from the picture for a short while.” She waved her hand over the snow, making it whirl. “Virtue. Trust. Loyalty. They are the traits of fools and dead men. Now their follies lay beneath us.”

  Her cryptic words took a while to sink in, but when they did, Caspar’s face twisted into a look of utter disgust and horror. He quickly scrambled to his feet. Ash was coated to him and he couldn’t dust it off fast enough. “You witch!” he said, looking around him in disbelief. “These are the ashes of the villagers you burned, aren’t they?”

  A giggle bubbled up from her throat, and she steepled her fingers in front of her face, tapping her nails together. “‘Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,’” she said, walking toward him. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, dear prince, to stake your soul on something – to work your entire life for it – and then suddenly one day it threatens to all come crashing down?” Her eyes turned dangerous, predatory. “This kingdom is mine. It birthed me and I intend to keep it.”

  “You’re sick,” he said, stepping away from her with slow, cautious steps. “You need help.”

  “Oh, no,” she breathed, her doe eyes widening, “I am perfect just as I am. Better, actually, now that she’s out of the way.”

  He froze, his heart twisting with terror. His attention had been so focused on the Queen he forgot about whom he had come here with in the first place. “Where is she?” he asked, voice low with warning.

  The Queen quirked a brow. “Don’t be so quick to anger, love,” she said, stepping out of the way. “Your lady fair is right here.”

  His heart nearly stopped.

  There, lying on her side in the ash a few feet away, was a crumpled figure. “Snow!” he cried, running forward and crashing into the ash beside her. Her eyes were closed. He rolled her over and scooped her upper body into his arms, his heart catching as her head rolled over his arm, lifeless. He bent, listening. She didn’t appear to be breathing.

  Eyes filling with rage, he snapped his burning gaze on the Queen, her satisfied smile infuriating him more. “What did you do to her?”

  “I took her mind off things,” she said with a petite shrug of her shoulder.

  Caspar gently laid Snow back down and stood, crossing the space between him and the Queen in a few angry steps. “Fix this,” he hissed, getting right in her face. “Now.”

  The Queen looked him steadily in the eyes, never budging. “I can’t. There is no awakening her.”

  “Lies,” he said. “Spells and enchantments always have a backdoor, a way out.”

  “Maybe in your fairy tale world they do, but life is hardly storybook perfect, now is it? Sorry to spoil whatever plans you may have had for the two of you. I’m afraid you’ll just have to find someone else to fill that gap in your heart, the one you got the day your dear mother died.”

  “Don’t say a word about my mother,” he said.

  “I am a queen,” she replied, smiling. “I shall do as I please.”

  “That’s about to come to an end,” he said, drawing his rapier and swinging it overhead in a flash, the blade aimed right for the Queen’s skull.

  The sound of metal ringing against metal echoed through the stillness of the orchard, and he blinked. His blow had been blocked by another rapier, an exact replica of his. His eyes followed the golden hilt all the way down the arm of the black shirt, to
the face that mirrored his own, save for the purple eyes and vicious smile. Every detail was the same, from the mop of blond hair, to the scar running the length of his arm.

  That’s me, Caspar thought, confused. Did she change into me? Is she so powerful as to be able to change form completely?

  The answer to his question arrived a moment later when the Queen stepped out from behind the other Caspar. “I don’t sword fight, but he does,” she said, gesturing with her eyes. “Please don’t think rudely of me for stepping out. I have other urgent matters to attend to, like squashing that pitiable army of yours.” With a swirl of her skirts, she faded away into nothing; not even her footprints remained.

  “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” the copy said, his eyes flashing with wicked, psychotic glee. He parried Caspar’s rapier to the side and gouged, which Caspar blocked, narrowly matching his speed. The copy didn’t let up; he attacked with fervor, launching maneuvers so quickly Caspar had a hard time keeping up. Upon one careless block, the tip of the copy’s rapier sliced across Caspar’s abdomen and he hissed, clutching at his stomach. When he removed his hand, his palm was covered in blood.

  “I thought true heroes were supposed to be invincible,” the copy said, walking in front of Caspar casually with a look of utter arrogance. “Looks like our bitch mother lied to us.”

  “Silence!” Caspar bellowed, slicing at him wildly, but the copy merely sidestepped and cut him across the back, right on the shoulder blade. Caspar tripped forward, losing his balance and pitching into the ash.

  “You can’t save her,” the copy said, stalking toward him as he struggled to stand. “Just as you couldn’t save your mother.”

  “Stop it,” Caspar said through gritted teeth. The back of his shirt was beginning to stick to his skin and his muscles felt like they were on fire from where the blade had slit him open. Sitting up on his knees, he began to rise when the copy firmly planted his boot right in one of the cuts and pushed him back down. Caspar’s cheek slammed into the ash, and he inhaled part of it, making him cough and gag. His rapier was pinned beneath him.