Mirror, Mirror

by Jen Calonita

  Now she saw Katherine everywhere she went, just like she saw her master’s image whenever things with the mirror were not going according to her liking. It was as if both of them served as an irritating reminder of what she had given up to gain her power. What choice did she have? She couldn’t let her master keep the mirror, and she refused to allow Katherine to destroy it. And yet, there was still the unease she felt when she saw young Snow in tears, or refusing to eat her supper. Snow’s mother’s blood was on Ingrid’s hands, and always would be, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise.

  “I suppose it’s time we end our mourning, knowing that our former queen will always be in our hearts,” Ingrid told the man.

  She heard the mirror talking again. But to whom?!

  He glanced anxiously at the other court members. “Shouldn’t we keep our flag at half-staff a while longer, in King Georg’s absence? What if he returns?”

  Ingrid leaned forward, outraged. “The king is a traitor! He abandoned his throne, his people, and his daughter, not to mention his new wife. He does not deserve our sympathy. He will not be back, I assure you!”

  The courtier looked down. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  She looked around. Her harsh tone had shocked the others, but too bad. She had to be firm where Georg was concerned. “I’m sorry.” She held her head. “This has all been so stressful for all of us, but especially young Snow.” Ingrid rose and the others bowed their heads. “The flag flies fully again. Send a decree throughout the land that the mourning period is through. Any searches for King Georg should be abandoned, or there will be consequences. The man is mad and is not fit to lead us anymore. Remind the people what he has done and in what condition he has left his kingdom.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the members of the court repeated.

  She flew out of the throne room and rushed through the castle, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. She didn’t bother with small talk anyway. She could feel the mirror’s movements and the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. Who dared enter her chambers and speak to her mirror? Hadn’t she said her rooms were off-limits? She didn’t want food sent to her room; it was to be left outside it. She didn’t want her chambers cleaned, either. No one could find the mirror. It belonged to her and her alone.

  Whoever had engaged with it would pay dearly.

  Locking the door to her chambers tight behind her, she made her way around her room, looking for the culprit who had dared invade her private space. Aside from a few pillows out of place at her window seat, the room was empty. She went to her closet, prepared to press the lever that revealed the dungeon-like room where she and the mirror convened—but she found it open.

  Bursting into the dark room, she readied herself to sentence the intruder to death, but the words on her lips failed her when she realized what was happening. Through the green, smoky haze of the mirror’s glow, she saw the outline of someone, their hand outstretched to meet the mirror’s smooth glass. But the silhouette confused her, for it was so small, and appeared to be standing on its toes to reach the mirror. Then she realized . . .

  “Snow!” she cried, rushing toward the girl and pulling her away from the mirror before the tips of her fingers could connect with its surface. “How did you get in here?” she shouted, shaking the girl by the shoulders so hard she wasn’t sure who was more jittery—the child or herself.

  Her niece burst into tears, which rolled down her round porcelain cheeks. The ivory gown she had on was covered with dirt from the chamber she had crawled through to get to Ingrid’s private quarters. There were hidden passageways everywhere in this castle. Passageways that would need to be closed up immediately. Snow’s bow, sitting atop her crown of black hair, was crooked. Ingrid distractedly wondered who had tied it in her hair that morning. It used to be Katherine; it had never been Ingrid. She wondered if it had been a few days or a week since she’d seen the child. Truthfully, she’d been trying to avoid her. After months of trying to bond with the girl at Georg’s behest, she’d given up. Every time she saw Snow, the child was crying—first for her mother and now for her father. The tears that day came hard and fast, and the sob that escaped her throat was so raw that Ingrid let her guard down slightly. “Oh, child . . .” she started to say.

  “It said I could see Mother!” Snow looked at Ingrid with big brown eyes that were the spitting image of Katherine’s. “It said all I had to do was touch it.”

  “What?” Ingrid wasn’t sure where to unleash her anger first—at the mirror that had betrayed her or the foolish child who had almost destroyed everything she had been working toward. “Snow, let’s get you out of this room.”

  “No!” The tears were replaced by a flash of anger. The little girl began to pound on Ingrid’s chest. “I want to see Mother! It promised! All I had to do was touch it!”

  As long as she is allowed to live, your power will wane. She is the true heir in this game.

  “Liar! You were trying to use her to help yourself!” Ingrid shouted at the mirror, and Snow stopped pounding and looked at her aunt in surprise. Then she tore out of the chamber.

  Ingrid caught her before she could get to the bedroom door, but it wasn’t hard. Little Snow crumpled like a paper fan the minute Ingrid touched her, and for a moment, she dissolved into tears again, burying her head in her aunt’s chest. Ingrid was, again, caught off guard. Snow had never hugged her before. Not after Katherine’s death, not after the rushed nuptials between her and Georg, which the young girl, only seven years old, could not understand.

  She, too, had grown tired of this new role. Originally, the idea of marrying Georg had been a necessity—in order to have power, she needed the crown. But quickly she realized it wasn’t enough to rule at a man’s side. She wanted to rule on her own and not play second fiddle to his needs or affections. She had hoped adoration from the man would please her, but instead, she felt repulsion that the fool couldn’t see through her spell.

  She faithfully mixed the potion into his drink before bed each night, until one evening, she decided she’d had enough. His love wasn’t real and neither was hers. It was a relief to have a guard take Georg away after she cursed him to a remote existence from which he could never return. She had the guard killed, of course, but let Georg live—not out of pity, but of necessity. As the mirror reminded her, she might need his royal blood someday—it was a powerful ingredient in many spells, which unfortunately would not recognize her blood as such, no matter how long she wore the crown. Better to leave him out there waiting.

  But what did that mean for Snow? The mirror suggested she kill the girl, but every time she even thought about it, she saw Katherine’s ghost. She argued that it was better to let the little thing grow till she could see for herself how twisted the world was. Maybe then Snow would realize the kingdom was better off in Ingrid’s hands and stand by her side.

  Don’t be a fool. Carry on with the plan. The girl stands in the way of your rule.

  Ingrid blocked the mirror’s voice from her mind once more. She wasn’t a fool. She just wasn’t ready to murder a little girl, no matter how much she hated the thought of mothering one. She’d done that with Katherine, and look how that had turned out.

  But now, this child, whom she had all but dismissed, was in her arms, begging to be soothed, and she felt her hand cradle Snow’s head. She started to stroke her hair and shush her. “Your mother is gone. No mirror can bring her back. And your father betrayed us. He wasn’t right in his mind after your mother died. Now he’s left you and me alone to fend for ourselves. Your father and my father did the same thing. Katherine and I lost our mother at a young age. Did she ever tell you that?” Snow shook her head. “Our father didn’t raise us as he should, so we left.” The story still stung, all these years later. “We relied on each other to make our way in this kingdom, and we did that together for a long time until . . .” Another man came between us, she wanted to say. “The point is, we don’t need someone to lead us. We can lea
d ourselves. Your father underestimating us was a grave mistake.”

  Snow’s crying subsided. Maybe this was their chance to find common ground.

  “But no one will underestimate us in the future,” Ingrid continued. “We are rulers, and strong ones at that. The fool who threatens us”—and this part was as much for the mirror as for her niece—“will suffer a fate worse than death.”

  Snow pulled away, crawling backward on her hands and feet like a spider. The look on her face was pure terror. What had just spooked her? The word death? Silly girl, so easily frightened.

  “Snow, come back here,” Ingrid said, growing irritated. “I wasn’t finished talking to you.” She patted her knee, where Snow had just been comfortably curled up.

  “No!” Snow started to cry again as she backed to the door and unlocked it. “You’re not my mother and you never will be!” She slipped out, slamming the door so hard that a vase fell off a table and shattered.

  Ingrid felt anger course through her body. She closed her eyes tight, noticing a real headache coming on, and when she opened them, they were both there: Katherine. Her master. Staring at her blankly, before moving through the room and to the door through which Snow had just retreated. Then they both disappeared through it.

  Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee, the mirror repeated, almost as if to mock her. Lips as red as the rose, hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow. Snow White.

  Snow’s dreams that night at her father’s cottage were restless.

  She usually welcomed sleep. Not only was it a respite from her dull daily existence, but it allowed her a chance to visit with her mother. True, dreams couldn’t replace actual time spent with her mother, but her dreams were so vivid sometimes that they felt like real visits. Tonight, though, her dreams were more like nightmares.

  She was with her mother, but this time their time together did not feel jovial. It felt urgent and cold, like time was running out but Snow couldn’t figure out why. In her dreams, the castle usually looked like it did in Snow’s memories of her childhood—vibrant and blossoming with flowers and merriment. But this scene was different. Her mother was walking ahead of her in the darkened castle and smoke was filling the hallway.

  “Follow me,” her mother kept saying, leading the way by candlelight.

  Snow didn’t want to follow. The path her mother was leading her on was unfamiliar. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been in this part of the castle before. It felt evil. Snow’s legs became rooted to the spot and vines instantly wound around them. She struggled to move.

  “Follow me,” her mother urged again, ignoring the vines. “Quickly! It’s important.”

  The vines disappeared and Snow had no choice but to listen to her mother. She started walking again and suddenly realized she was in Aunt Ingrid’s wing.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” Snow told her mother. “She could catch us.”

  Her mother turned and smiled sadly. “She already has. Come and see. It’s important.”

  She led Snow through her aunt’s bedchambers to a closet wall. As Katherine pressed her hand on a wooden heart carved into the doorframe, the wall clicked, revealing a secret passageway. Snow’s mother motioned for her to follow. Snow did as she was told, finding herself in a darkened room with dungeon-like walls.

  “Look,” her mother said, and pointed into the darkness.

  Snow didn’t want to look, but her mother kept calling her name till she opened her eyes.

  There, on a platform, was a large mirror.

  It had a ghastly masklike face that appeared almost human and yet not. Thunder seemed to rumble from inside the chamber, where smoke thickened.

  Snow stared at the mirror in wonder and felt the urge to touch it. It looked so familiar. Had she been in this room before? Why did the mirror seem to call to her?

  “She knows you live. This much is true. She’s coming for everyone you love. She will try to hurt you,” the mask in the mirror said.

  Snow woke up, gasping for air.

  “Snow!” Henri jumped up from the floor near the fireplace and shook her from her stupor. Her father was right behind him. “Are you all right?”

  She looked at Henri. “I saw it! The queen’s mirror! The one my mother was talking about!”

  Her father and Henri looked at her worriedly.

  “It came to me in a dream,” Snow explained. “Well, Mother led me there.” She looked at her father pleadingly. “I know where it is hidden. It’s in the queen’s chambers.” She lowered her eyes. “I think it knows me. I remember seeing it before.”

  “What?” Her father’s voice sharpened. “She’s taken you to see this dark magic?”

  “No, I went there on my own,” Snow said, pulling the distant memory into focus. “It called to me once, much like my dream. I was a child. I think it was after Mother died. It led me straight toward it like it wanted me there, but Aunt Ingrid came in at the last moment and took me away. She was furious.” Snow looked at Henri and tried not to sound alarmed. “This dream, though, was different. The queen knows I’m alive. The mirror told me. She’s coming for me.”

  Henri exhaled slowly.

  “Then you will stay here,” her father insisted. “I will defend you.”

  Snow touched his arm. “No, Father. You know that won’t work. If she knows I’m alive, she will find me. She may even come here first.”

  “Let her come!” her father thundered. “I am ready to face her.”

  Henri and Snow both looked at him, and she knew they were thinking the same thing. Her father had aged, and the queen had magic on her side. Besides, if there was one good thing her aunt had taught her, it was that she didn’t need a man at her side to fight. She had lived in Ingrid’s shadows long enough. It was her turn to do the protecting. She’d just found her father again. She didn’t want to lose another parent to the queen. This battle had to be hers.

  “We need to get to that mirror,” Snow said decisively.

  “Yes, before she finds either of you,” Henri added.

  Her father started to protest, but Snow cut in. “It is our best chance at stopping her. If I were to get ahold of that mirror and hold it hostage in exchange for her undoing her spell on you, she might agree to leave the kingdom and never return. . . .”

  “No,” her father said flatly. “She cannot be allowed to just leave! She’s too dangerous. Too reckless! She’s done too much harm and destroyed our kingdom’s resources.” His voice weakened. “It has to be an eye for an eye. We must avenge your mother, and to do so, the queen must be killed.”

  “Two wrongs do not make a right,” Snow said. “Didn’t you and Mother teach me that?”

  Georg looked furious. “She killed your mother! She tried to kill you! The Evil Queen must die.”

  Die? Snow wasn’t sure she could kill someone in cold blood, but she wasn’t going to argue with her father at the moment. Time was running out. “First, I must get to the mirror. Threaten to destroy it. Break it. Do whatever it takes to be rid of it.”

  “If she’s that attached to it, she won’t allow you to harm it,” Henri said. “Maybe she will go quietly if you let her keep it.”

  “She will never go quietly,” her father said sadly. “This I know.” He looked at Snow. “If you won’t stay here, I can’t even help you fight her, my snowflower. Not while I’m prisoner.”

  Snow grabbed his hands again. “You won’t be a prisoner for much longer. I will break this spell. I will rid the kingdom of the Evil Queen and save our people. I will not let her continue to hurt the ones I love. I promise you that.”

  He held her face in his hands and she saw his eyes well with tears. “Be careful what you promise, my Snow White. Be careful.”

  Snow White was alive.

  The mirror was cracking.

  In a fit of rage, Ingrid flew out of her quarters and descended the castle steps to the first floor unseen. It wasn’t that hard to do. She had recently dismissed several more servants
after they were found in her private wing. She trusted no one. Now the mirror had failed her, too. How had Snow White survived? The huntsman was the son of the man who had helped poison Snow’s mother years ago. How had Snow convinced him to let her go?

  Furious, she went straight to her lair deep in the castle dungeons. In fact, there were two dungeons in the castle basement—the one where the guards put enemies of the kingdom and left them to rot, and the one she’d had walled off with her own private staircase. It led to a few cells for her own personal use, as well as her potion room. Since no one knew it was there, it wasn’t often cleaned. Cobwebs decorated the walls, and rats scurried along the floor, but even they could be of use if the potion called for it. The important thing was that no one knew this place existed but her.

  Ingrid threw the box with the heart in the corner in disgust. “The heart of a pig!” she yelled to the only one who could see her: a raven. Whether it was the same one that had been appearing at her window each day for the last week, she was not sure, but the bird comforted her somewhat. It seemed to share her darkness and lend its ear to her struggles in a way the mirror no longer could.

  She looked around the lab, where several potions she had been brewing were bubbling in various flasks and bottles. None of them would work on the girl. There were memory loss spells, meant for those who needed tricking. And then there were the tonics meant to keep Ingrid youthful. Things she and the mirror had worked on together. Nothing she had on hand seemed like it would work with the girl. In fact, she couldn’t rely on the mirror or a huntsman or anyone else to do this deed for her. If she wanted Snow White truly gone, she had to do away with the girl herself.

  But how?