Queen of Reflections: A Snow White retelling (Kingdom of Fairytales Snow White Book 1)

by J. A. Armitage

  He looked at mother, clearly expecting her to reprimand me for speaking out of turn.

  Instead, she just smiled. "General?"

  A smirk lifted the corners of my lips. We'd played this game with a few of the men in power over the years, and all of them reacted the same. They were fine with Mother having a say in how the realm was run, but they had issues with me. Not one of them believed my parents would actually value my opinion on matters of state.

  They were wrong. And underestimating me had led to a lot of them revealing more than they wanted to. Sometimes, I even got summoned to come join them just for that reason.

  General Charles sighed, clearly defeated by the blunt question. "We believe there's a chance that it might destroy the crops. We won't know until five harvests’ time, though, and that seems like a fair risk." He shifted uncomfortably.

  If I had to put money on it, then I'd say he knew we weren't going to agree to something that put our people in danger.

  "Are we under threat of attack?" I asked him. "Last I knew, the lands were all at peace, why do we need to expand the barracks at all?"

  I caught sight of Mother's smile from the corner of my eye. She'd no doubt had the same thoughts but didn't have the same flexibility I did when it came to asking blunt questions. My youth was an advantage there.

  "No, we're not," he admitted. The set of his mouth gave him away more than it should have. He wasn't happy at all about having to concede that.

  It was almost understandable. Almost. He was only trying to do his job, one that was a lot harder to justify when there wasn't a war going on.

  "I think that will be all, General," mother said. "We'll be in contact with our decision."

  "I'd rather hoped to have a decision today," he grumbled.

  "We take the well being of our people seriously, General. We can't just make decisions without properly investigating matters." Her tone was soothing, far more than mine would have been in her situation. I didn't know how she did it.

  The general looked like he was about to say something, but stopped himself before giving the two of us a stiff bow.

  I tried my best not to let my amusement slip through, but I wasn't convinced I managed. At least I wasn't the only one, my mother's upper lip twitched as she suppressed her own smile.

  The doors banged as the general left, no doubt he was annoyed we hadn't given him what he wanted.

  "Well played," mother told me.

  "Thank you." A smug feeling flowed through me. While my parents had been teaching me to rule for years, I still loved the feeling I got when I made a difference.

  "Were you told I needed you, or were you looking for me?" she asked me as she gestured to the guard to hold the next person coming to petition her so we could have a moment. I appreciated that.

  "I was actually coming to find you." My clothing suddenly became a lot more interesting than normal, and I started to pick at my hem.

  "Kelis? Are you alright?" Real concern lingered in her voice. Not that it was surprising.

  "Can-I-use-the-seamstresses?" The words came out as a jumbled mess, revealing just how unsure of the whole situation I was.

  "The seamstresses? You've never been interested in them before. Don't you go to your own tailor in town?"

  "Normally, yes." They were the only person in the city who'd agree to making my outfits in black instead of the traditional white. Thankfully, they seemed to balance who I was and the unusualness of my request in the price.

  "But not this time?"

  "I want something for the Fright Festival," I admitted sheepishly.

  "Ah." There was an all-too-knowing glint in her eyes, and any doubts I'd had about her knowing how I felt about Jake vanished in a second. At least, she should understand the need for me to get something nice to wear while he was here.

  "Can I?"

  "Of course, you can. They're always there for you if you want them. They'll probably make you black clothes, as well, if you ask them." There wasn't even a hint of judgment in her voice.

  Affection for my mother washed through me. She understood me on a level that no one else did. "Thank you."

  "Do you need any help with the sketch or the idea?"

  I shook my head. "I think I have one. But you can come see it before I give it to them, if you want?"

  "I'd like that. Why don't I pick it up and take it to them?" The smile she gave me was so genuine that no one would be able to deny her what she asked.

  "I'd like that." While I did have an idea, she might be able to help me if I got stuck with the design of it.

  I chewed on my lip as I lay on my bed, the sketch pad in front of me bringing my costume to life. My hand flew over the page as my idea took shape. I was going to stand out, but this time it wouldn't be for wearing black. It would be for wearing white.

  A smile slid over my face as I thought about it. The entire court, and most likely, the city outside too, knew me as the girl in black. And I was aware of what that meant.

  I stopped sketching and looked down at my design. The cape would sweep out behind me, causing a train that would drag along the ground. Under the cape, I'd wear traditional leggings and top, but over that, I'd wear a gauzy shift with threads of silver. It might not be white like the rest of the outfit, but the silver should glitter from the multitude of colored lanterns that would decorate the street for the Fright Festival.

  I tapped the pencil against my cheek, trying to work out what was wrong with it. There was something missing.

  "Perhaps a headdress," I muttered to myself.

  "So that people are distracted from your face? I must say, that's one of your better ideas," the mirror quipped.

  I rolled my eyes. I shouldn't have spoken aloud. The mirror didn't always answer when I spoke to myself, but it did often enough for me to have learned to be careful about it.

  "That's a no to the headdress," I said with certainty.

  "If you ask me..."

  "I didn’t," I cut it off and turned back to the drawing. Oh, a staff. That would be the perfect addition. The Fright Festival was all about the costumes, and so far, mine was nothing more than a statement about myself.

  With a few smooth strokes of a pencil, it started to take shape. I added a high crown with dripping gems.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  "Come in," I called.

  The door clicked as it was shut behind the person entering, and Mother swept into the room.

  "Your Majesty, all beauty pales in comparison to yours," the mirror started.

  Mother's face fell for a moment, but her easy smile was back within moments.

  "Are you ready for me to take the sketch?" she asked, ignoring the mirror. She sat down on my bed and ran her fingers through my hair.

  "Not quite." I sat up and handed her my sketchbook. As our fingers touched, another picture flashed through my mind, not unlike the one earlier when I’d been speaking to the general. This time My mother was deathly pale, her eyes closed and her hands together as she lay on her bed. My father’s glassy eye expression showed he’d been crying. Then as soon as it came, it was gone. I gave myself a little shake and let go of the sketchbook so my mother could look at it.

  The moment she stared down at it, she gave a sharp intake of breath. "This is beautiful, darling."

  "Not as beautiful as you are, Your Majesty. Even the moon dare not claim it is more radiant than you," the mirror gushed.

  Mother shot it a disgusted glance. "You've said your piece, now be silent."

  The mirror didn't respond; it wouldn't dare. Nothing was more terrifying than Mother using her Queen voice. I wouldn't be making a sound in the mirror's position, either.

  "You really think it looks good?" I asked. "I think there's something not quite right about it."

  "Hmm." She rubbed her chin with her fingers, studying the smooth lines of my drawing and the tiny notes I'd made about materials and how I wanted things to fall and look. "Can I make a couple of changes?"

  "
Of course." I handed her my pencil.

  I watched as she made a few extra notes, and added some more details. A gem to the top of the staff, that her notes instructed should be a deep green. She thought for a moment and noted that the dress should be green too.

  "Not white?" I asked, frowning.

  She shook her head. "You want to stand out, don’t you? Wear black, and you’ll look like you always do. Wear white, and you’ll be dressed like everyone else. Your eyes are a beautiful shade of green. Maybe it’s time to spice things up with your wardrobe? You can still wear the silver over the top and you should wear a red lip paint to contrast. With your dark hair and green clothing, it'll be very striking." She swiftly drew a face onto the diagram and added what she'd just said to the notes in the margin.

  The thought of adding color filled me both with dread and excitement. No one wore colors of any kind in Enchantia.

  "What about in the crown too?" I asked. "If there's going to be a little bit of color in the staff, maybe there should be some there too."

  She nodded and added a couple of larger jewels to the drawing of the crown. "I think you're right about that."

  We spent a little bit longer going over the design, dissecting every part of it until we were completely satisfied with how it looked.

  "Thank you," I said once we were done.

  A wide smile spread over her face, and she reached out to cup my cheek. I felt like I was five years old again, with her looking down at me like I was the apple of her eye.

  "You're going to look beautiful in this," she assured me.

  I snorted. "I wouldn't go that far."

  I waited for the mirror to cut in with one of its attempts at a soul-crushing retort, but it didn't happen. Perhaps it was respecting Mother's wishes and staying quiet.

  "Don't listen to that thing when it tells you you're not." She shot the mirror a displeased look. "Beauty isn't something that is skin deep. It's something that's etched in the soul and is shown in so many other ways. I've watched you grow into a strong, caring, and wonderful person, Kelis. That's what makes you beautiful. I'm proud to call you my daughter."

  A tear threatened to fall, but I blinked it away before it could. There wasn't a reason to cry, not when she was being so lovely to me, but I couldn’t shake the image I’d seen earlier. Her eyes had been closed in the vision.

  "I know," I whispered. "I promise I listened every time you told me that growing up." And I had. I'd also realized that not everyone had the support I got from my parents.

  "I know, darling. You're going to be a wonderful Queen."

  "But only of the Fright Festival, right?" I deflected, not wanting to think about her not being the Queen any longer.

  She chuckled, no doubt realizing exactly what I was doing. I could have sworn it was some kind of Mother-sense she had. "You'll be the best Frost Queen they've ever seen."

  I glanced at the drawing, still clutched in her free hand. Frost Queen was the right description for it. But was it going to be enough to impress Jake?

  "He won't be able to take his eyes off you," Mother said, reading my thoughts, a slight hint of amusement in her voice.

  "How did you..." I trailed off, not sure how to phrase my question.

  "I'm your Mother. I know these things." A wry smile slipped over her lips. "But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want."

  I nodded. "That would be good, thanks."

  "A word of advice, though, if you want it."

  I laughed, unable to help myself. "You'd give it regardless, just maybe not so bluntly."

  "That's true. It's a mother's prerogative." She took a deep breath. "Just make sure he returns your affections for the right reasons. You're a princess and the heir to the throne. People will try and take advantage of that if they think they can get power just by marrying you."

  I winced. "But they don't get any power," I pointed out.

  "I know it isn't how it works, but some people won't take that into account. Just be careful, Kelis. You're too good to be trapped into a loveless marriage by someone who doesn't care about you." She rose to her feet and smoothed out the cape she was wearing, though there wasn't a single wrinkle in it. "I'll drop this off at the seamstresses on my way to bed."

  "Thank you."

  She leaned in and kissed my forehead. "Sleep well," she said.

  "You too."

  "Your Majesty, are you leaving us so soon? The room will be dimmer without your beauty to illuminate it," the mirror piped up.

  Mother cast a side-eye at it. "You should get rid of that," she reminded me.

  "Maybe we should have a ceremony where we destroy it. We could call it a mirror sacrifice and have tea and cupcakes to go with it." I quipped.

  She flashed me a disapproving look, clearly knowing that I wasn't serious. Though, the mirror didn't. I'd probably get some peace and quiet from it until tomorrow now.

  "I'll think about it," I promised. I'd do just that, but as always, I'd come to the conclusion that I didn't want to get rid of it. There was something about it that connected me to my past and made me reluctant to just destroy it. Maybe that need would go away in time.

  Or perhaps I just needed it to give me one compliment before I could let it go. I wasn't sure I wanted to explore that option very much.

  Mother waved goodbye and shut the door behind her. As I expected, the mirror stayed silent as I got ready for bed.

  Another knock sounded on the door, swiftly followed by one of the servants bringing me a steaming cup of peppermint tea.

  "Thank you." I smiled at her, appreciative that they respected my night-time ritual. There was nothing like a soothing drink before bed.

  "You're welcome, Your Highness." She dipped into a curtsy.

  I turned away from her as she left the room and grabbed the book I'd started reading earlier in the week. A little light reading of the history of our people never hurt. I might not be all that interested in performing magic, but the past of it fascinated me, particularly how the people from the other Kingdoms saw us. They'd used just about every word they could—witch, sorcerer, enchanter, caster—they'd all been used. The irony was that we didn't really have a name for ourselves. Magic was far too much of a part of who we were to be defined.

  I waved my wand slowly in a swirling motion watching the peppermint tea go round in the cup. Unlike pretty much everyone else in Enchantia, I barely ever used my wand. Most people couldn’t function without it, but when using it, I feared dependency on it. Something about it took away my independence, the part of me that was just me. Plus, I wasn’t particularly good at it. I lacked the aptitude for magic other Enchantians relied on. I guess I was just different in all respects. I finished my tea and put the book on my nightstand.

  Closing my eyes, I felt a frisson of nerves wondering what terrors the night would bring and if I’d wake up tomorrow with the same sense of dread I’d been waking up with for months.

  9th October

  The haziness of dreaming was easy to recognize but difficult to escape from. I found myself in a forest with dark trees and imposing shadows. My bare feet barely made a sound as I walked down the path, but the stones beneath them didn't hurt. This was a dream, after all.

  I looked around, trying to work out what I was doing here. My mind must have a reason for showing me this. Somehow, I knew this dream was going to be different. Echoes of it would linger long after I'd woken up. Real memories rather than the echoes of feelings. I knew I was in a dreamscape, so I held on to it, trying to keep every detail so it wouldn’t float away as soon as I woke up.

  Voices sounded from deeper in the woods, so I picked up my pace. I should run in the other direction, but the dream had a different idea and urged me further into the woods. My heart pounded in my chest, and my palms began to sweat. I wiped them on the ragged dress I was wearing. It didn't look like anything I'd normally wear, but that made sense. The woods didn't look like anywhere I'd ever seen in Enchantia. And yet, there was something about the place
I recognized. I’d dreamed about this place before—many times. I’d just forgotten. There was something in the woods in front of me, something terrifying. I wanted to hold back, not to go any further, but my feet kept me moving forward toward whatever it was.

  I came into a clearing to find a single coffin lying in the middle of it. There wasn't anyone around, which made very little sense. I'd heard voices; there must be someone here.

  A dream. This is a dream. I had to remind myself of that. It didn't have to follow the rules of the world.

  Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach as I made my way up to the polished wooden coffin with no lid. Something bad was waiting there. Worse than just a dead body at any rate.

  I swallowed down my nerves as I reached it. I peered over the edge.

  My eyes widened, and I stumbled backwards, tripping over a twig and landing flat on my back. I opened my mouth and began to scream.

  The world around me shifted, the dream-like edge to what was happening disappearing and becoming less tangible.

  I thrashed against an unknown threat, finding my arms and legs were getting impossibly tangled.

  My screams continued to fill the space, and my eyes snapped open to find the dim light of dawn streaming through my windows.

  A dream. Just a dream.

  My heart pounded, and my breathing came rapidly as I tried to process what I’d just seen. What I’d been seeing every night for a long time, but now I remembered it. I remembered it clearly, looking down into the coffin. My breathing hitched as I remembered her face, serene like she was asleep except she wasn’t.

  Mother.

  I wrestled the sheets off me and swung my legs around. My robe lay over one of the chairs next to the bed, and I grabbed it, throwing it on.

  "If you're leaving the room like that, then it's almost an improvement," the mirror quipped as I passed it.

  Instead of retorting, I ignored it and headed out into the corridor.

  I banged on the door to my parents' room but didn't wait for either of them to answer. This was too important. Parts of that dream had felt far too real for me to be completely at ease until I'd seen Mother's face and heard her voice.