Reflect- Snow White Retold

by Demelza Carlton

  Artorius' eyes opened, but they filled with horror at the sight of her.

  Guinevere wet her lips. "It is I, Guinevere, your new queen," she said.

  He flopped like a landed fish, one arm pounding the mattress while the other hung, lifeless, over the edge of the bed. He made a hoarse sound, but there were no words in it.

  And his face…why, it almost looked like it had drooped, all down one side…

  Apoplexy, Guinevere's mind told her, as her horrified eyes met his. Just like Mother, who had died the day this happened to her.

  But Artorius couldn't die. He was her husband, he'd promised to protect her. If he died, she'd have to go back home to her father's wrath…or worse, run again.

  In desperation, she did the only thing she could do. She bit her lip and cast a sleeping spell on the King. A spell strong enough to stop the illness from progressing, or at least slow it, yet it put him into a slumber light enough that he still drew breath and appeared to sleep naturally.

  Outside her chamber, she found the guard had changed, so she did not need to meet the eyes of the handsome man who'd made her heart flutter last night. Instead the new guard bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."

  She nodded in acknowledgement and tried to step past him.

  "How fares the King?"

  She stopped. "He…sleeps still. Last night, he…was tired, and drank a lot of wine."

  The knight nodded and moved aside.

  Guinevere considered telling him that the King was not well, but to say the words aloud was to make the King's fate unavoidable. No, she could not tell him. Let the knight find him, and a healer who could work miracles that might save him. To lose her husband like she'd lost her mother was a cruel twist of fate she could not bear.

  It was early yet, so instead of going to the Great Hall, she headed for the kitchen in search of something with which to break her fast.

  She followed the yeasty scent of baking bread to the kitchen, then stood in the doorway, admiring the purpose-filled bustle below. In a well-run kitchen such as this, the chatelaine would have little waste to worry about. Why, looking around, you would not guess that a huge feast had been prepared here only yesterday.

  "Your Majesty?"

  Lady Ragna's voice was unmistakeable.

  "The King and his daughter prefer to take breakfast in the Great Hall. If you tell me what you wish to eat, I shall see that it is brought up to you."

  Every head turned to stare at her then, before the entire kitchen staff sank into deep curtseys.

  Her appearance had never stopped all work in the kitchen at home, Guinevere thought wryly. "I will have…whatever the others normally have," she said.

  "Very good, Your Majesty," said Lady Ragna.

  Guinevere half expected the woman to pat her on the head, like her nurse had when she was a child.

  "If you have lost your way, I can show you to the Great Hall," Lady Ragna continued, gesturing.

  Of course. The kitchen staff still hadn't moved. "Please," Guinevere agreed.

  "Along that passage way, turn right, then follow that to the end, and you shall be in the Great Hall," Lady Ragna said, edging between Guinevere and the kitchen. Blocking her way, leaving her no choice but to leave.

  Guinevere got the message, all right. She might be queen, but Lady Ragna ran the castle. There was no place for a queen in the kitchen.

  Twelve

  "Mark my words, cousin. If your father rises from his bed today, it will be a miracle indeed."

  Guinevere recognised the sneering voice of the man who'd been sitting beside the princess last night. Instead of continuing into the Great Hall, she retreated down the corridor, where the shadows would hide her from sight while she could still listen.

  "If you have poisoned my father, Lord Melwas, I will see you tried and executed for treason. He will rise as readily as he has every other morning."

  That was the princess.

  Guinevere's blood ran cold. What did Melwas know about the King's condition? Could the man have poisoned his king somehow? But how would he have known to give him a poison to make his death look like Mother's?

  "Oh, not me, dear cousin. I would not dream of poisoning the King. That little slut who seduced him into yesterday's farce of a marriage might, though. Probably already pregnant with some other man's bastard, she came here to seduce your father, meaning to set her bastard son upon the throne, and act as regent until the boy is of age. For after spending a night with your father, then silencing him before the night is over, who could say that her child is not his?"

  "She is pregnant? How do you know?" the princess asked, sounding wistful.

  "The woman walked into court with her hair uncovered. You were not there, so you did not see, but ask any lady of the court who was. She walked in with her hair as loose as the devil's own snares, as brazen as the lord of hell himself. Only virtuous women wear veils, like your good self. Mark my words, cousin, the King may have laid a crown on the little whore's head, but no mere metal can make her fit to be queen."

  "What can we do?"

  "We are strongest together, cousin. You are his only child, and I am his closest male heir. If anything happens to your father, we must marry, for only when we are united can we keep the throne from that slut of a usurper."

  The princess made a disgusted sound. "I should have known you are full of wind and little else, Lord Melwas. When my father comes to break his fast, proving you wrong, I will tell him of your silly stories, and your relentless quest for my hand, and he will put an end to them both. Perhaps he will send you to inspect the salt mines on the eastern border…for those lands are yours, are they not? You spend so much time at court, it is difficult to remember you have a home of your own."

  "You're a fool, Zurine. Once your father is dead, she will come after you."

  "But if you are so sure you are Father's heir, surely she would come after you first?"

  This time the disgusted sound came from Melwas. "The slut is no match for me, and even she knows that, if you do not. She will choose the easier targets – you and your father – first, and wait for her father's armies to arrive before she even thinks to take me on. I could protect you…but only if you marry me."

  "I'll take my chances, Lord Melwas, and I will take my breakfast alone in my chambers. Talking to you makes me lose my appetite every time."

  Princess Zurine's footsteps approached. Guinevere sank deeper into the shadows, praying the girl would not see her.

  Thirteen

  "Is there a knight called Sir Lander staying here?"

  All heads in the taproom turned toward the guard who'd spoken, but no one answered.

  "He is needed up at the castle," the guard continued, growing impatient.

  Tense shoulders relaxed, and most of the men resumed drinking. All but Xylander, who debated whether to answer the summons or flee.

  If it were his father's summons, fleeing would be the wiser choice. But this was Castrum, not home, and this king had showed no signs of madness.

  "What's he needed for?" Xylander called.

  Now heads turned toward him, out of curiosity more than anything else. In Flamand, dread would have elicited sharp gasps from the men, as they hunched their shoulders in relief that the curse of the King's notice had passed them by…but mad kings were mercifully absent in this kingdom.

  Xylander rose to his feet and repeated, "Why does the castle need Sir Lander?"

  The guard coughed. "She did not say."

  Xylander's heart soared. The princess had discovered his name, and summoned him. Of course she would not tell a mere guard what she wanted. Perhaps she had recognised him from before. Had her thoughts been filled with him, like his dreams last night had been haunted by her?

  "Perhaps she'll tell me, then," he said. "For I am Sir Lander." He fastened his cloak and followed the guard out.

  One guard, who made no move to restrain him. This was an invitation, and a polite one, at that. He was indeed needed. Perhaps wanted, too.<
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  People bustled about, paying him no heed as they passed him in the castle corridors. Xylander was led ever upward, to where the royal family's apartments lay, he was certain.

  Surely he had not made that much of an impression on the princess that she'd summoned him to her bedchamber.

  Yet if he had…

  The guard knocked on a door. "Sir Lander, mistress," he said, sweeping the door open and gesturing for Xylander to enter.

  Xylander stepped inside.

  Fourteen

  "Finally!" Guinevere stopped pacing at the sight of her brother. "Shut the door."

  Xylander did, looking confused.

  She didn't give him a chance to ask questions. Not until she'd told him everything, when she was sure he'd have questions aplenty.

  "The King took ill last night. Like…like Mother did, on the day she died." Tears itched at the corners of her eyes, but Guinevere drew in a deep breath and blinked them away. "I put him into a healing sleep, but that will only delay the end. Unless some miracle occurs, he will die, and that will leave us worse off than before."

  Xylander nodded.

  "The succession here after his death is…not so clear. He has one daughter, Princess Zurine. Old enough to marry, but as yet unwed. His closest male relation is Lord Melwas, a courtier of considerable power who seeks to cement that by marrying the princess. If he does, he will become king." Guinevere sucked in another breath. "I heard them talking today. They believe I have come here on Father's orders to kill them all. The King, the princess…all of them, then claim the throne for myself."

  Xylander opened his mouth, likely to utter a horrified protest.

  "They won't let us stay here, Lander. They'll send us home, unless we can find a way to prevent it. Prevent Melwas from becoming the next king."

  "You want me to kill Lord Melwas, then?" Xylander asked. He thought for a moment, then rubbed his hands together. "It will be a simple matter. I shall call him out for speaking ill of the Queen, and when I am victorious, you will be safe. I've sworn to protect you, and if it means killing a man, so be it."

  If only it were so simple.

  "No. I need you to…take the princess out of the picture." He would say no for certain, but she had to try.

  "You want me to do what to the princess?"

  She hushed him. If anyone heard him, word might get back to Melwas that what he'd suspected was true. "I want you to…" Seduce the girl, so she fell in love with Xylander and married him instead of Melwas. Reveal to the princess that he was the prince she longed for, and claim the King's crown.

  Things Xylander would never agree to, even if it was the only way they could stay here. He wanted to fight and hunt and never take up his royal duties. As for seducing anyone, he would consider it beneath his honour to do such a thing. How could she word it so he would not refuse?

  "Think of it like a quest. A hunt, if you will, for a pure and elusive creature, who you alone must conquer. You must capture her heart, or all will be lost."

  Xylander's eyes widened in surprise. "You want her heart?"

  It sounded so crude, put like that, but how else could she say it? "Only if her heart is in your possession, yours and yours alone, will we be able to stay here. You promised to keep me safe, Lander. This is the only way."

  He swallowed. "I made an oath, and I shall keep it, though it will cost me dearly. It will be as you wish. May heaven forgive me."

  Fifteen

  Guinevere wanted him to kill the princess. Xylander didn't want to believe it, but she would never lie to him about something so serious.

  So, no matter what his feelings were for the lovely princess, he would honour his oath to Guinevere. Because family and honour meant far more than some pretty maiden, princess or no.

  He would do this one thing for her, then leave Castrum.

  For with the princess dead, he would have nothing to keep him here.

  Sixteen

  Guinevere took her dinner alone in her chamber, not sure she could face Lord Melwas and his suspicions again. To have come so far, and think she was finally safe, only to be cast into a pit of uncertainty again…fate must truly hate her.

  "Beg pardon, Your Majesty…" The guard bowed from the doorway.

  Guinevere dropped her spoon back into her half-eaten bowl of soup. She had no appetite today, anyway. "Yes?"

  "Your presence is required in the throne room."

  Was the queen expected to dispense justice in the absence of the king? She had little experience in such things, but she would do her duty, if she must.

  She rose and followed the guard.

  Heavens, did she look queenly enough to sit in judgement?

  She'd never had to worry much about her appearance back home – the maids had obeyed her orders whether she appeared immaculate or covered in dust with straw in her hair.

  Well, she hadn't touched any straw today, so a quick pat told her that her hair was fine. A glance down her front confirmed that she hadn't spilled her soup. The lacings on her bodice sat straight and firmly tied, though she tugged on them just to make sure. And her slippers were so new, she could scarcely feel the flagstones beneath her feet, so there could be no holes.

  Did she need her crown?

  She almost turned back to get it, then remembered that it was in the bedchamber she'd shared with Artorius. Where he slept still.

  He had not worn a crown on the day she'd petitioned him. Even if he had, her mother had said many times that a lady of royal blood needed no such thing to proclaim her authority – everyone should know she was a queen by the way she entered a room, or walked through it.

  Crownless, she would make her mother proud.

  Guinevere drew herself up, lifting her chin as she straightened her shoulders, looking ahead instead of at the flagstones.

  When she reached the throne room, she swept in, not waiting to be announced. She reigned here, second only to the King himself, who was not here.

  The crowd of courtiers parted before her, a sea of bows and curtseys showing her the way to her throne.

  One man stood in her way: Sir Lancelot.

  He met her gaze for only a moment before bowing deeply, like the rest, but as he stood on the dais steps, even bent over, he stood higher than she.

  "Your Majesty. We feared that the illness which has struck down the King might have affected you, too, but by some miracle, you are well. We must be thankful for small mercies."

  So they knew about the King's illness. She wasn't sure whether his words were meant to trap her into an incriminating response, or if he genuinely meant what he said. His emotionless gaze gave away nothing.

  Guinevere merely nodded once and ascended to her throne.

  Lancelot hushed the ill wind of whispering with one hand.

  "Your Majesty, lords and ladies of the court, good knights, some of whom have already heard our ill news. The King's illness was both sudden and unexpected, and has kept him to his bed today. Our best healers are with him, and doing everything within their power to see him well again."

  "It's her fault!"

  Guinevere found a pudgy man pointing his finger at her. The other courtiers edged away from him, and she realised this was Lord Melwas.

  "Keep her away from the King or worse will happen!"

  Lancelot put up two placatory hands. "Of course, Her Majesty cannot sleep in a sick chamber. A new bride who may well be in a delicate condition should be protected at all costs. We cannot have the Queen and any heir she might be carrying fall ill, too. The King would never forgive us."

  Melwas looked like he had more to say, but he subsided. Nevertheless, Guinevere still felt his eyes upon her, as Lancelot dealt with any urgent matters that could not wait on the King's health.

  He was as just as the King, declaring his judgement before deferring to her. A nod seemed to suffice, so she did not have to judge cases or say a word the whole time she sat there, yet justice was served, all the same.

  Eventually, she began to tire
, or perhaps it was boredom weighing down her eyelids, but the thought had barely crossed her mind before Lancelot declared the day's audience at an end.

  The crowd dispersed, until only she and Lancelot remained.

  He bowed before the dais. "I hope my presumption did not displease you, my queen. It was I who sent the guard to get you, when Lord Melwas summoned the court. If I had not, I fear he would have declared his regency until the King is well again. With you present, he did not dare."

  Guinevere managed a smile. "When the King is well again, I am certain he will be grateful for your care for his kingdom."

  His eyes met hers, sadness piercing her as surely as his gaze did. "Did you not hear, Your Majesty? It appears the King is gravely ill, and the healers fear he may not wake at all. Princess Zurine said she would tell you herself, and headed to your chamber to break the news. Did you not see her?"

  Guinevere shook her head. Then a twist of dread tied her stomach in a knot. If Zurine had come while she was speaking to Xylander, and heard her…

  "Strange," Lancelot said. "Perhaps Her Highness was so overcome by her father's illness that it slipped her mind. I shall speak to her. If Melwas summons the court again, it would be best if both you and the princess could be present. For in the absence of the King, the presence of the two women he loves most would reassure the populace."

  Love? How could this knight talk of love between her and the husband she did not know? Would never know, now. Tears clouded Guinevere's eyes, and this time she could not drive them away. They trickled down her cheeks, twin testaments to her helplessness.

  "I will see that Lady Ragna is made aware that you are to have your old chambers back. For the King will never forgive me if something were to happen to you."

  The princess who'd run a whole castle, complete with its unpredictable king, now could not even control herself. Oh, how this knight must despise her.

  But she was his queen, for all her weaknesses, and she must act like one.