by S R Nulton
“Most likely he’s trying to keep us from helping that poor woman. She doesn’t even remember that her stepdaughter died last fall in a hunting accident! How does one forget something like that?” I asked rhetorically.
Reese stopped. “She did? I hadn’t heard! But I have been traveling too much to receive any of the reports from my informants…” He took a deep breath and let it out. “She’s actually acting more sane this morning than she did yesterday.”
“Discussing magnets, mangos and Brussels sprouts is more sane? What could she possibly have been doing to make her seem worse than that?”
“Paranoia. She was constantly asking me what people have been saying about her, changing the subject without cause, and acting defensive over the strangest things. Then she would start humming to herself. And fidgeting. Constantly. The entire dinner alternated between longing for her husband, flirting with me, worrying about imminent invasion by the surrounding countries and humming. I nearly went mad with the humming. Believe me, mangos are a respite.”
Reese let out a huge breath before falling into the chair next to mine. “It’s the mirror, I just know it. Grandfather told me things have been wrong here for a while, but he hasn’t been able to do a proper diagnostic on the mirror, so he didn’t feel he could interfere. There were too many other things that could be causing the issues. Still, I think that the mirror and the queen’s mental state are related.”
Silence reigned until I took off my shoes to get more comfortable.
“What?” I asked as he stared at my feet. “Do my feet smell or something?”
A crooked smile peeked out. “Just wondering if there was any truth to the rumors that you and your sister cut off parts of your feet to try and fit into Princess Cinderella’s glass slipper.”
I barked a laugh. “You’d be surprised. Actually, Portia and I did bleed on that shoe.”
“Do tell.” He settled into the chair and waited expectantly.
Lifting my foot, I smiled and pointed out a scar on the top of my big toe. “Do you see that? That is where I bled. You see, Cindy had beaux all over town. Or rather, she had men who were obsessed with her. She never paid them any attention. Unfortunately, most of them believed the rumors that we were cruel and they felt the need to protect her as much as they could. The cobbler was the worst.” I smiled ruefully as I thought about it.
“We had to get new shoes for the royal ball and when we had them fitted, they were perfect. Henry, spiteful man that he is, decided to try and maim us by making the shoes wrong. They technically fit, but there were sharp pieces of leather and such that would either rub us raw or cut our feet by the end of the night. Nothing obvious when we first tried the shoes on, though. I honestly have no idea how he managed it, but less than an hour after arriving at the party, the shoes just went wrong. When we tried on Cindy’s shoe a few days later, it was so small that it tore the scabs off and started our feet to bleeding again. So, when the guards told the story, it slowly transformed into me chopping off my big toe and Portia ridding herself of her heel.”
Reese shook his head. “It is amazing how stories change so quickly. What about the birds pecking your eyes out at her wedding. It obviously didn’t happen.”
“Ha! That was more an accident at the first formal family dinner. Mother was ill with hysterics and stayed home, but Portia and I attended. There’s this topiary menagerie in the royal gardens. You know, the one that looks like someone carved a zoo out of shrubs. Have you been there before?” He nodded, so I continued.
“Well, there was a big storm the night before and a lot of debris in the topiaries. One of them is shaped like a bird and while Portia and I were looking at it, someone bumped into us from behind. We were pushed forward and the bird shook, sprinkling dust and bits of dried leaves into our eyes. Portia was being over-the-top as always and started screeching about going blind. Obviously she was just playing around, thinking that the whole situation was hilarious. No one else got the joke though, and it morphed from there.”
“I guess that’s how myths get started, huh? A few exaggerations and suddenly you are getting your eyes pecked out by birds at a wedding.” He smiled at me, but it slipped away quickly. Leaning forward, he looked at the floor and said, “I’m sorry about how I reacted the other day. About the hat. I… I completely overreacted and I’m not quite sure why. Added to that, Mallie said something to me before we left, and...” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Honestly, most of my anger has been guilt over how I’ve treated you. And worry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you and for that I am very sorry.”
Biting my lip, I considered what he said. “I get why you reacted that way, but you need to understand that I’m not dimwitted. I may be ugly,” I replied with a grin. Reese laughed, but I continued, “but let me say it again; I am not stupid. I doubt that Merri got that feather from a donation or gave it to me with only kindness in his heart. I also know that the magic on the hat is not malevolent. In fact, it actively fights evil intentions. That’s probably why it was given away.”
He seemed to consider that for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Finally, he let out a gust of air and nodded. “You’re right. I suppose that I need to trust you more, don’t I.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
I giggled. “Probably best, considering we are in a creepy castle where the servants are actively working to drive the queen crazy so that the king can do heaven only knows what to her. Not to mention that there is an evil witch and her blood-bound werewolf out there trying to kill us right now.” I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. “We need to help the queen. If we get that mirror fixed she might have a fighting chance.”
“I know, little gem. I know. I could feel it too as we got closer to the castle. It isn’t exactly subtle.” Rising violently from his chair, Reese began pacing. Flinging a hand out, he turned to me and asked, “Do you think that we can find the mirror without the queen’s help?”
It was a good question. She was instrumental for us even figuring out that there was more to the story than we had heard. She was a victim, not a mastermind. I bit my lip. “Maybe… but the longer that we’re here, the less likely it is. Bekins is already trying to separate us and get rid of me specifically.” Although, I didn’t know why. It seemed ridiculous to be okay with Reese, a man from an apparently well-known family, to remain when he was more likely to discover that there was a problem. Unless… “What if there was a reason for Snow White’s death? What if it wasn’t the queen who killed her?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you seen any other women in this castle? A maid, housekeeper, maybe a cook or a lady’s maid?” He shook his head after thinking intently. “I haven’t either. There was not a hint of sound from the women’s quarters last night. What if she was isolated from other women?”
“You mean she was too violent to be around any other women?”
“No. What if something about being around other women helps her fight off the madness? I don’t know why, but she was willing to speak with me. Her confusion lessened when I was there. She seemed to snap at Bekins, almost like she was trying to protect me.”
Before we could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. We looked at each other and went to work. I broke the circle containing our conversation. Reese called out and said it would be just one moment while I commanded the herbs to dissipate and opened a window for them to leave through. It was just another small trick taught to me by an aunt who despised housework. As he reached the door, the last of the circle flew out into the garden and I closed the window quickly.
“Yes?” Reese asked, his voice sounding disinterested and annoyed at the same time. It was still eerie to hear him speak like that. He sounded like a typical courtier, not the warm and caring man I had begun to know.
“I apologize for the interruption, but the queen requests your presence in the gallery. She wishes to take you on a tour.” It was the butler. He paused slightly, as if weighing his words, befo
re continuing. “Your sparrow girl is more than welcome to utilize our supplies to tidy your room.”
Oh, dear. I bit my lip to keep from saying anything as I watched Reese. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. I could, however, see his fingers losing color as they gripped the top of the door. I could also see that his hair was beginning to glow slightly. His auburn waves were usually quite dark, but at the moment the red highlights were growing brighter and brighter. It was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. It also made me realize that I had never seen my husband lose his temper before, not truly. If I didn’t do something that fact would change soon.
On silent feet, I moved behind him and gently touched his back. Reese inhaled deeply, releasing just a little of the stiffness in his shoulders.
“She is not my servant or my girl. I have no idea why you insist on such things, but as you are incapable of treating her with a correct amount of respect, she goes where I go.” His hair had lost most of its glow as he spoke. It may have been his joy at putting the smaller man in his place. Or, perhaps it was the fact that my hands were still moving, gently stroking Reese’s back without my realizing it.
The room had been silent for a good minute when I heard Bekins draw in a breath of air, as if to continue his argument. Reese cut him off. “Leave. Now.” There was a momentary pause before a series of thumps declared the foolish little man had beat a hasty retreat. No doubt he read the threat implied in those two words.
Reese remained motionless, letting my hands continue their roving across his back. His tension was almost painful to witness, so I began massaging his shoulders and neck. The man was lucky I am on the tall side, as I wouldn’t have been able to reach his shoulders half so well otherwise. He groaned and let his head drop forward. Eventually he closed the door and turned to face me.
Chapter 9: Mirror, Mirror
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done to that idiot if you hadn’t been here.”
I shrugged. “What made you so angry? He didn’t get a rise out of you earlier and he said the same basic thing.”
Reese eyed me carefully. “I know you haven’t traveled extensively, but…” He sighed and led me to the chairs once more. “Do you know how men in the eastern part of the continent refer to their mistresses?” I shook my head. “They are called ‘winged women.’ The idea is that their wings have not been clipped by marriage and they are flitting around sharing their favors.”
He looked incredibly uncomfortable with the discussion, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. “So he said I was your mistress?”
“No. He called you a ‘sparrow girl.’ Sparrows are what they call working women. Prostitutes. He… he essentially called you a whore. The term is only for one of low-birth at that, not a courtesan or a mistress.”
Now it was becoming clear. He had protected my honor. Still, I knew that there was more to it than that. I don’t know how I knew, but Reese was hiding something from me. “What else does it mean?”
His laugh was harsh, more of a bark than anything. “That wasn’t enough? No, I suppose that it isn’t for you. You always seem to know when I’m trying to protect you. My little gem…” Reese took a big breath and let it go slowly. “There are several different ways of saying the same thing. What he implied was not only that you were common, but that you were ugly, useless and mentally unstable. Years ago there was a man who attacked the women of the Fretche and afterward they reverted to a childlike state. Ever since, mental problems and physical deformities are often spoken of by referring to children.”
“Thus the idiot had called me a ‘sparrow girl’. Well, at least I know where I stand. I am ugly, useless, and mad as well as selling my body. I feel like we should sick Mallie on him. See what happens then.”
We held out for a good minute before bursting into laughter. “Oh! I can see it now! That look that she gives when someone is being idiotic! Then she would give him a warning before cursing him into thinking he was a toad.”
“That’s an actual curse?” I asked incredulously.
Reese nodded before pulling me to my feet. As we walked down the halls, he told me about when the curse had been popular.
Apparently, about a century before I was born, there was a rash of disappearances featuring the prominent men of court. Someone was finally able to track one of them down and found him in a pond, croaking and leaping about, trying to catch flies. Over the course of about three months, somewhere between 15 and 20 men were cursed into believing they had been turned into amphibians of all sorts, mostly ones with warts.
“It turned out that someone had invented a spell that just about any person on the planet could work. He ran in those circles and found enemies of the men he wanted removed. Then he just convinced them to purchase and use the spell. At one point, it was the politician’s teenage daughter who actually cursed her father because he was trying to arrange her older sister’s marriage to a man they both hated. It was remarkably difficult to return the men to their original state of mind. It actually improved some of their dispositions, but it’s also the reason that eating frog legs is considered gauche in many areas of the continent, particularly at state dinners.”
“I had always wondered why that was.” Our conversation cut off as we turned the corner.
Queen Caillte was standing by the entrance to the gallery, awaiting our arrival. Her coloring looked a bit better than it had at breakfast, less pale and the dark circles beneath her eyes were much less intense. She had changed her gown from the gaudy gold creation we saw earlier to a more demure silvery grey.
“Hello again, your majesty. You seem in better spirits,” Reese declared.
“Come, come! The gallery awaits. So much paint to play with! I love finding the broken ones. They always look so sad before they disappear.” She grabbed our arms and dragged us out of the hall and slamming the doors shut behind us.
I looked over at Reese and raised my eyebrows as she locked the doors and moved a chest to bar them completely. This did not bode well for us. She brushed her hands off and looked up at us.
“There. No ghosts can get to us now. Only the monsters.” She canted her head to the side and then shook it. “Or maybe it’s the other way around.” Caillte rubbed her temples. “It is so hard to think sometimes.”
“Why did you bring us here?” I asked her gently. “You wanted us to see something?”
She nodded vigorously, making me glad that she had forgone styling her hair this morning. “I wanted to show you my sisters. There have been so many of them, but my husband always makes sure to capture them on canvas before they leave. I like to come look at them. I need to know them so that I won’t get them mixed up when I meet them.”
I was thoroughly confused now. Her eyes were beginning to glaze again, so I decided that asking more questions would be foolish. Instead, I turned and took a look at the pictures on the wall. They looked like typical royal gallery; woman after woman was pictured, a variety of styles and backgrounds shown. They were different sizes, from one painting the height of the room to another that would fit in my palm with room to spare. Then I saw it.
“Where are the men?”
Reese turned his attention to me and raised his brows. “What do you mean?”
Caillte was grinning and spinning around the room like a top. “Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids in a row.” Her voice echoed eerily in the long room.
I could feel my eyes grow wide and I raced to the far end of the gallery. There was the only portrait of a man in the entire room. It was small and quite old. In fact, the style was at least two centuries out of date, if not more. The image reflected a man of middling years. His hair had begun to thin in places and he had a thick beard the same blue-black. His nose was perfectly straight and his features were aristocratic, but the long scar that just barely missed his eye showed his life had not been as quiet as pleasant as one would guess. Added
to that, there was a certain sharpness to his eyes and a cruel turn to his mouth. The painting may have been flat by style, but the artist had still captured the darkness that hid in the depths of the man’s gaze.
The portrait next to the man’s was done by the same artist and in the same style, but this one was of a woman. She was about twenty. Her looks were average at best. Muddy brown hair, eyes too close, nose too big, lips too small, and her ears stuck out in an unseemly way. Unlike most portraits, she was smiling and it made her radiant. She practically glowed with happiness and health. It made one see beauty that wasn’t there; however, she did not seem to be the type that would capture such a cruel man’s attention, or at least, not enough for a wedding portrait to be commissioned. And a wedding portrait was exactly what it was.
“My first sister. She was lovely. She looks so kind. A shame he took more than she had to give. Not enough magic in her blood.”
I looked over my shoulder at the young queen. And she seemed very young at that moment, mourning over a nameless woman whom she feared to meet soon in the afterlife.
“I knew he was old, but this is…” Reese couldn’t finish.
I patted his arm and told him gently, “You’re looking a bit green around the gills.”
“That’s because I can see what the queen is trying to tell us. She was part Fey. Not much, but just enough to give her a hint of magic. Those halflings are usually empathic to some extent and incredibly kind. They also hold the ambient magic necessary for some of the darker spells out there, including one for longevity.”
It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. “That poor girl. She looked so happy.”
“She was,” Caillte chimed in. “She was so happy to have married such a handsome, eligible bachelor. It was arranged before she was born and he was a mighty knight, well known for his battle prowess. He just wanted a child from her, but then he got sick and he decided to try out something he had heard of while fighting for his king against the wraiths. She was weak though. She had conceived and much of her magic had gone into the child already. The spell harvested magic from her, not the child. She died. The child died with her. He got better for a few years, then found another to heal him. And another. And another. And now I’m here and when he kills me, there is already another lined up to take my place.”
