Mirror, Mirror

by Jen Calonita

  They were all quiet. Hearing Henri’s story reminded Snow of a moment she’d had with her father as a small child. A bird had fallen in the aviary and hurt its wing, and she’d tearfully rushed into one of his sessions with the royal court. He had stopped everything to listen to her story. Then he’d helped her make a nest in the aviary for the bird to see if it would get well again. One morning, when they went to check on the bird, it was gone. “We did all we could for him, till he could make it on his own,” her father had said. Was that what her father had done for her as well? Had he thought she was strong enough to make it on her own?

  “I’d been prepared to leave him right away, but I still wasn’t myself and the weather was still bad, so Georg invited me to stay,” Henri explained. “It was only when I was well enough that we got to talking. That’s when I told him about my trip to your kingdom. As soon as I mentioned it, I could see the change in him. He seemed distressed, almost outraged, like a man consumed, and he began pacing the floor. When I asked what was the matter, he wouldn’t say. Instead, he asked me to tell him more about my visit there. I told him of the queen’s refusal to see me, and”—he hesitated, his cheeks coloring slightly—“about the beautiful maiden I met in the castle gardens.”

  “You did?” she asked, unsure why she was so taken with the fact that he’d mentioned her.

  “Yes.” Henri smiled shyly.

  “Oh, brother,” she heard Grumpy mumble.

  “After I spoke of you, he started asking me all these questions about the princess and her relationship with the queen. I said I didn’t know anything about that, so he asked if the princess seemed happy.”

  “What did you say?” Snow asked.

  Henri hesitated. “I said you were lovely, but you seemed sad.”

  “That is not untrue.” She had been disheartened at the castle. But then again, she had also chosen to make the best of her life and not let the sadness consume her. She’d tried to find happiness in even the most ordinary ways—shining a castle suit of arms that a visitor might pass, or feeding the birds in the aviary. “But I tried to be happy as well.”

  “He would be pleased to hear you say that,” Henri said with a smile. “When I didn’t have more to tell him, he excused himself and went to bed. I was confused as to why he had this reaction when it came to you, so I tried to bring it up again, but his answer was always the same. ‘Knowing the truth about my life will only put you in harm’s way.’ It had been so long since he’d talked about his kingdom, he started to think he’d dreamed his previous life.” Henri paused. The fire licking the pot in the kitchen made a small popping sound in the quiet cottage. “Snow, your father never wanted to leave you or his people. He left because Queen Ingrid banished him.”

  “What?” Snow stood up.

  “Yes,” Henri said with conviction. “She tricked him into leaving the castle one day. He said he doesn’t remember leaving or why he agreed to go. In truth, he says he doesn’t remember what possessed him to marry her in the first place.”

  “Dark magic.” Snow was only just starting to understand her aunt’s powers. She closed her eyes, feeling relieved. She had never been able to understand why her father would have married that woman.

  “All he knows is that when he tried to return to you, he couldn’t,” Henri continued. “Any time he tried to reenter the kingdom, some strange force would prevent him from walking on your soil. He tried everything to get around it, going to every possible part of the border to get through, and the same thing would happen—a jolt of electricity so strong it would practically stop his heart.”

  “Black, black, black—achoo! Magic!” Sneezy repeated, and the others nodded in agreement.

  “He’s never stopped trying to get back here for you,” Henri added. “He hated knowing you were growing up in that castle with a woman so wicked. He begged for mercy, hoping Queen Ingrid would hear him. He prayed she would take pity and give him you in exchange for his throne, but if she has heard his cries, she has done nothing. After years of trying, he gave up, thinking he was doomed to live in his own prison for the rest of his days.”

  Some of the men were crying. They all held their caps in their hands.

  “I knew King Georg wouldn’t abandon us,” Bashful said with a sniffle.

  Tears trickled down Snow’s cheeks. So he truly hadn’t left her. The Evil Queen had pulled the two of them apart, making each of them live their own personal kind of hell. All the while, Ingrid had lived in wealth and privilege upon her throne. If she could kill Snow’s mother, was it so unbelievable to think she would banish her father? “I need to see him,” Snow said. “If he can’t come to me, I will go to him.”

  Henri smiled. “He was hoping you would say that. I will take you to him. I know the way.”

  “Then we will go,” Snow said. “First thing in the morning.”

  At last, she had everything her heart desired.

  As she stared down at the red heart on the carved wooden box in her hands, she couldn’t help thinking the mirror had been right about everything. The heart inside the box beat no more, which meant not only was she queen, but there was nothing left to threaten her reign. And she was the fairest in the land. No one else could get in her way. Finally.

  The mirror probably already knew what she had in her possession. She was so in tune with it that she could hear its thoughts without even being near it. And the mirror, in turn, knew what was going on in her head without her saying it out loud. Their two psyches, after all these years, were becoming one, just as the mirror had predicted all those years ago.

  Just as her master had feared.

  But there was nothing to fear from her mirror. It existed for her sake.

  And so it no longer bothered her that she’d spent an agonizing week waiting to hear from the huntsman. Her practical side told her it would take him days to dispose of the girl’s body. Besides, that absence gave her time to formulate her own plan about the princess’s absence. She’d been smart to let that sentimental fool Mila get the princess ready for her day with the huntsman. It made her look like a caring aunt. When the pair didn’t return at nightfall, she sent for Mila and asked her for word about the princess’s day. She held her own, looking the picture of worry when Mila made it known the princess hadn’t returned. She’d even pretended to send Brutus out to look for them. She asked the rest of the castle and her court to stay quiet about Snow’s disappearance till they could figure out what had happened to the poor princess.

  And now that Brutus had finally brought her the huntsman’s gift, she was trying to decide what would be the best story to tell the people—that the girl was dead, or that she had abandoned her people like her father years ago?

  “Is there anything else, my queen?” Brutus asked now.

  “No,” she said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. She gripped the box in her hands tightly. She couldn’t wait to get back to the mirror and show it the fruit of their labor. “Keep the huntsman hidden till I decide what to do.”

  He bowed. “Yes, my queen.”

  Walking swiftly through the halls from the throne room to her chambers, she didn’t look at any of the servants she passed. It wasn’t like any of the fools would stop to speak to her anyway. They knew by now that when she approached, they should bow or curtsy and go back to their appointed chores. Closing the doors to her chambers behind her, she went straight to the hidden room and stepped onto the platform. She put the box down and raised her arms wide, calling to the mask in the mirror. The mirror began to smoke, thunder sounded throughout the chamber, and the mask appeared in the glass. Ingrid smiled wickedly.

  “Magic Mirror on the wall, who now is the fairest one of all?”

  She had done everything to hear the mirror tell her what she longed to hear once more. She couldn’t stand it holding anyone’s beauty above her own. She held her breath and listened closely.

  The mask stared at her drolly. “Over the seven jeweled hills, behind the seven falls, in the cot
tage of the seven dwarfs dwells Snow White, fairest one of all.”

  Her eyes widened in anger. How dare the mirror play games with her! She tried to control her temper. She picked up the box and held it in front of the glass. “Snow White lies dead in the forest. The huntsman has brought me proof. Behold,” she said, holding the box out with satisfaction, “her heart.”

  “Snow White still lives,” the mirror told her. “The fairest in the land. It is the heart of a pig you hold in your

  hand.”

  Her hands trembled. It couldn’t be. But then again, the mirror never lied. . . . “The heart of a pig! Then I’ve been tricked!”

  Rushing out of her chambers, she headed back to her throne room, summoning the huntsman immediately. The queen handed him the box. “Show me her heart,” she commanded.

  The huntsman stood and shakily opened the latch on the box, showing her what was inside. The heart looked gray and lifeless. For a moment, she was almost happy . . . until she remembered the mirror’s warning. Could this heart be that of a pig? There was only one way to find out.

  Ingrid knocked the box out of his hands. “Liar! This is not her heart! It’s a pig’s!” She looked at Brutus. “Take him to the dungeon and leave him there to rot!” Brutus grabbed the huntsman roughly and began dragging him out of the room as Ingrid watched closely. Surely the man would protest his innocence.

  “Long live the rightful heir!” the huntsman shouted at her. “Long live the future queen!”

  Rightful heir? Future queen?

  Ingrid began ripping at her hair, pulling out strands in anger and not even feeling the pain. “No, no, NO!” Ingrid let out a primal scream so raw she could feel the damage even though she could not see it.

  For in her secret room, the magic mirror on her wall began cracking.

  Snow and Henri journeyed to the border of the prince’s kingdom alone.

  At first, most of the dwarfs weren’t thrilled with this development. They’d become a close-knit group in their time together, and argued that they had a lot of planning to do if they were going to take on the queen. But Snow agreed with Grumpy on this one—the men had diamond quotas to fill for the queen each day, and by keeping up their regular routine, they could speak with other miners frustrated by the tariffs. While Snow was gone, they could gather intel that would allow them to figure out which villages they should visit to gain allies in their fight. There was also the matter, as Grumpy pointed out, of making sure they continued to mine diamonds to squirrel away for a rainy day. If things in this battle went south, they’d need something to barter with to get out of the kingdom. Snow didn’t want to think about that option. She needed to succeed, not only for herself, but for all the people fighting with her. And now that included Henri.

  “Are you sure you’re not tired?” Snow looked down from the horse she was riding to Henri, who was leading the animal by the reins on foot. They had only one steed for this journey and Henri insisted the princess be the one to ride it. They’d been traveling for several hours and had barely spoken.

  “I’m fine on foot,” Henri insisted. There were quicker ways than the woods they were traveling through, but they were roads more traveled, and Snow could not risk being seen. “You need to rest up for your reunion.”

  “Why would a reunion be exhausting?” Snow wondered. Filled with anticipation, yes. Overwhelming, maybe. But exhausting?

  Henri didn’t reply. She had a feeling there was more to the story than he had revealed, but she didn’t push. She wanted to hear it from her father, if it really was him. She prayed he would have some insight on the Evil Queen that she could use. In fact, she was counting on it. With their journey to find the elixir unfruitful, she was concerned they still had so little to go on.

  “We’ve been traveling since early morning light,” Snow reminded him. “You have to be growing weary by now.”

  He kept quiet. She wanted to learn more about this near-stranger who had dropped into her life. Snow imagined what her mother would have thought of Henri. This was what she did whenever she had something to work through: she envisioned the conversation they would have had about the things they’d never had the chance to talk about. She always pictured the two of them sitting in the aviary or on a garden bench, talking as if they had all the time in the world. Snow was grown in these visions, but her mother looked exactly as she had when she’d left this earth. They would talk till the sun was setting. She suspected her mother would like Henri. A man who cares for the creatures of this earth has to be a kindred spirit, Snow could imagine her saying. Henri helping her father would be something else she’d approve of. Snow snuck a glance in Henri’s direction again. “Are you certain you’re not tired?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Henri said again, and immediately started to cough.

  He’d been coughing all morning, which led Snow to believe he was not 100 percent recovered from his recent illness. Had he pushed himself too far? “I will not take no for an answer. I think you are the one that needs rest,” Snow said decisively. “There’s room up here for two.”

  “It’s not necessary,” he said again, and coughed some more.

  “It is to me,” Snow insisted. “As the princess of this kingdom and the future queen, I command you to ride on this steed with me.” He looked surprised at her tone, which she quickly softened. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind.”

  Henri smiled. “Well, Princess, if I need to rest, then you need to eat. I know for a fact you’ve had nothing since we left. Doc insisted you have something in your belly when you see your father, and I’m a little nervous about not listening to orders from those men. They seem pretty fond of you.”

  “And I of them,” Snow said with a smile. She could picture Grumpy giving Henri his long list of instructions for this trip. Her stomach growled at the thought of food. “Maybe we should stop for a spell.”

  Henri held out his hand to help her dismount. Their fingers stayed intertwined a moment longer than was strictly necessary.

  Snow looked away. “I’ll put down a blanket so we can sit properly.” She laid it out and placed the satchel of food—fruit, breads, and cheese—from the dwarfs on it. They ate in silence for a bit, with Henri devouring his portion.

  “I’m sorry I ate so quickly,” he said as he finished his last piece of bread. “Before last night, I hadn’t eaten since I left your father, and before that I was still too ill to have much. Only broth.”

  “If you’re still hungry, I have some apples for dessert.” She held one out that was a mix of reds and greens with a hint of gold. “These are Red Fire apples.”

  Henri took a bite. “That’s heaven. What did you call it? A Red Fire? I’ve never had anything like it.”

  “They’re only grown in our kingdom. My mother was the one who created the hybrid,” Snow said proudly.

  She used to beg her parents to tell her the story of their courtship over and over. She could picture her mother laughing. Snow, there must be something else you want to talk about!

  “It’s what you get when you cross red apple seeds with some pears and green apple seeds,” Snow told Henry now. “She came up with it at the apple orchard she helped tend when she was my age. My father loved them and had them planted all over the countryside.” Snow picked up one and stared at it. “It was the Red Fire apple that endeared my mother to my father, actually. He adored her apples.”

  Henri smirked. “So it was love at first bite?”

  She laughed. “I suppose so!”

  Henri had some more. “I can see why. They’re delicious, and I don’t say that lightly. Apples are my favorite fruit.”

  “Mine too,” Snow said, and they stared at one another for a beat. “I think I’ll save some for our visit. I bet my father would love to have one after all this time.”

  “Then we’ll share the rest of mine,” said Henri, pulling a small jeweled pocketknife out of his belt. Carefully, he began to peel the apple in one long strand that didn’t break. When he was done, he
took the strand and wound it into a tight bud that looked like a rose. “For you, my lady.”

  “That’s beautiful,” said Snow, holding the apple peel in the palm of her hand. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “My older brother Kristopher taught me,” Henri said, his smile fading. “He loved apples, too. This was his pocketknife.” He held up the silver blade with the leather handle. His brother’s initials were etched into the metal. “He died a few years ago during a battle and I was given his blade. He was my father’s most trusted knight.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Snow said, immediately feeling a familiar pang. “Losing someone so soon . . .”

  “Changes your life,” Henri finished, and they looked at one another.

  “Yes,” Snow agreed. “I imagine my life has been different from the one my parents envisioned for me, but I’ve never lost hope, even when . . .” She faltered. She hadn’t revealed the truth about her mother’s death to anyone yet, not even the dwarfs. The kingdom remembered Queen Katherine falling ill, and they had mourned her as such, but Snow knew her father deserved to know the truth. Maybe it would be easier if she shared it with Henri first. “I now know the Evil Queen—my aunt—had my mother killed.”

  “What?” Henri sat up straighter. “Do your people know? They couldn’t possibly; how would they let her sit on the throne?”

  “They don’t know,” Snow said. “No one does. The huntsman the queen sent to kill me told me the story. His father was the one tasked with killing my mother.”

  “But this huntsman didn’t want to repeat his father’s dark deeds?” Henri said, guessing correctly. “I’m so sorry, Snow. From what I’ve heard, your mother was beloved.”

  “She was, by everyone.” Snow stared at the cloudy sky. “Everyone but her own sister. And for that dark deed, the Evil Queen will pay.”

  Henri looked at her curiously. “You seem different, somehow, from the girl I met in the gardens at the castle.”