Letters to Zell

by Camille Griep

  “Come now, we’ve discussed our differences. You can’t continue to harbor ill feelings toward me. The birds and I merely helped you fulfill your Pages.”

  I couldn’t meet Figgy’s eyes, lest my surliness betray itself as actual sadness. Maybe we had been unrealistic to think Rory’s happiness lay in Henry’s attentions or even a child.

  “Pages. Horseshit,” said Bianca, refolding herself. “Don’t get me started.”

  I picked at the edge of the hanky. “Figgy, how come you’re so eager to help people who don’t want your help and then can’t be bothered to help those who do?”

  “Briar Rose is not here seeking my help, is she? I would venture to guess that she doesn’t know that you’re here at all. Is that true?”

  “You aren’t being fair.” I sniffed. “We’re her friends. We can’t just let her suffer.” Both Bianca and Rory had kept my secret and done everything but take the test for me. Trying to help Rory seems to be the very least I can do.

  “Come back in five days. I’ll think on it til then.” She shooed us out into the branches. It seemed much windier than when we arrived.

  I glared at Bianca. “Fat lot of help you were.”

  “Like you were any better? She said she’d think about it. Stop being so bitchy.”

  So we came home empty-handed in every way. I don’t even feel up to sneaking down to the kitchens to bake. I can’t believe I’m so useless that I can’t even manage to buy a love potion from a Fairy.

  Love,

  CeCi

  Important Fucking Correspondence from Snow B. White

  Onyx Manor

  West Road, Grimmland

  Z,

  Figgy is considering our request. Contrary to what CeCi thinks, all hope is not lost.

  I empathize with CeCi’s anger, but I can’t get it through her thick skull that she’s mad at Figgy for the wrong offense. She blames Figgy’s birds for Darling and Sweetie’s blindness. But CeCi is the one who saddled herself with their care instead of marrying them off to a couple of Edmund’s friends. (He has to have at least a couple who aren’t picky about feet.)

  She made the decision not to send her stepsisters away. And she kept Lucinda around for their sake. If she’s mad at Figgy for anything, it should be for maiming the twins instead of her father.

  I suppose none of you hit the jackpot in the parental division. Not even Rory. Can you imagine what her parents were like? Always doting on her, controlling her, championing her, planning her wedding? Even when they realized Henry was a blustering jerk, they smoothed things over with commentary like “Ahem, is there any more of that wine?” Then they wiped their hands of the entire mess, moved over to the south wing of the palace, and proceeded to order room service for the next five years.

  When I find my father, I’m going to tell him that I’m glad my memories of us together, as few as they are, are happy ones. I expect I’ll hear from him any day now. He’ll tell me where he’s been. I’ll talk to him about Outside and thank him for all the money and the journals he left for us to use. Without them, I’d never have been able to help CeCi.

  Speaking of, we’ve put off approaching Solace for long enough. We have to go Outside again next week so that CeCi can take the test to finalize her admission to the cooking school. And we still have to buy the rest of her supplies so she can start the week after. This will be a perfect excuse for another bachelorette party. This time, no soufflés. I want to go to a fancy hotel, to a fancy restaurant, to Disneyland!

  I wrote you a short poem:

  Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair

  And come Outside with three friends fair.

  So many fun things to see and do

  Alas, you must shovel the unicorn poo.

  (Did you see? I can rhyme! I amuse myself.)

  B

  Princess Briar R. Rose

  Somnolent Tower Castle

  South Road, Grimmland

  Dearest Zell,

  When Maro arrived today, she suggested we have tea outdoors on the “pretty green grass.” But I told her that here in Grimmland, the weather is perfect and the sky blue and the clouds puffy and the hills purple and the butterflies yellow almost every single day. I may have intimated that she wouldn’t be invited to see my tower every single day. And that it was my luncheon. (I said that I was trying to be benevolent toward Maro, not that I have perfected such behavior.) She agreed and followed me up all the stairs, her jeweled hand riding on her heaving chest.

  Halfway up we met Henry, coming from his chambers. I introduced Maro and, curiously, she bowed instead of curtsied. At first I hoped Henry wasn’t looking at her bosom, but I suppose even I was looking at it, as generously as it had been presented. She righted herself and I impulsively invited Henry to join us for tea. He declined, stating he was leaving for a few weeks of hunting and needed to make preparations. However, he did appear to consider it, for which I was quite heartened. I told you we’d eventually make progress.

  At the top of the tower, the maids had set out crumpets and scones and fruit and honey. It’s a long climb up there, you know, so the tea was a bit tepid. But the complete privacy was splendid—and the view! From the large eastern window, I can see the glittering spires of CeCi’s castle to the north and the black columns of Bianca’s palace to the west, and the whole town in between. I can see the Wolf Woods and the edge of your castle—or, I suppose, the castle that used to be yours. I can see Figgy’s big tree and the large gear on top of Solace’s shop and the yellow road that leads to Oz and, eventually, to you. There’s so much out there, the Realm ever expanding. And we are so small, aren’t we?

  Anyway. It was a fine tea. Maro is quite adept at carrying on conversations without input or assistance, and eventually I began to nod off. I excused myself—I’m not used to having to explain how sleepy I get—and she saw herself out. I’m glad I extended an olive branch. I’ve demonstrated far more maturity than CeCi and Bianca. First they’re hot, then they’re cold. I’m quite pleased with myself for adjusting my attitude.

  One odd thing happened afterward, though. Following my nap, I made my way down to the conference chamber to confirm the musical arrangements with the cellist I’ve selected for Bianca’s wedding. (Can you believe he had the nerve to suggest Pachelbel’s monotonous Canon in D? I almost fired him on the spot.)

  I was rounding the corner to the courtyard when who should I bump into but Maro, who I thought had left hours earlier. Evidently she’d been so taken with the tea sandwiches that she’d asked for a lesson in the kitchen—in the spirit of CeCi’s intrepid pioneering. I reminded her that CeCi’s machinations were still secret, and she assured me she hadn’t breathed a word. I am a paragon of trust, aren’t I? There was a time when I would have gone running to Bianca and CeCi trying to assign Maro nefarious intent.

  I hope you enjoy the enclosed portrait of Snoozer. Please send a stuffed unicorn chew toy from the gift shop, if you have one in stock. Oh, and maybe a nice pink unicorn collar? I’ll have my barrister forward the appropriate credits.

  I’m so sorry to hear about young Bea’s continued allergy problems. How fortunate Arthur was spared. (I thought twins shared everything!) Being allergic to unicorns while living on a unicorn preserve seems most inconvenient. I ran into Bianca’s dwarf friend, the one with chronic rhinitis, at the apothecary yesterday and I’m sending a few of the potions he recommended. Let me know what works best and I’ll send another batch. I’m sure Oz has physicians, but after hearing about that whole fake wizard debacle, I’d be careful about who you trust until you get your bearings around there. Also, try bee pollen. Or honey. Or maybe both.

  Snoozer needs to perambulate, but I’ll write again soon.

  Love,

  Rory

  From the Desk of Cecilia Cinder Charming

  Crystal Palace

  North Road, Grimmland


  Dear Zell,

  I don’t know why we even went back to Figgy. We should have known that she was going to tell us no. Figgy’s the kind of Fairy Godmother who swoops in and claims to save the day, not the kind who grants requests. We’d barely made it past the door when she announced, “I’m dreadfully sorry, girls. But after much consideration I must tell you that I cannot help you.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, annoyed I’d gotten my hopes up. “You just won’t.”

  “I’ve given it a great deal of thought, Cecilia. It’s just that there could be too much collateral damage if I interfere. The areas in which I work are grey indeed, but I simply cannot. The possible outcomes are too complex. Lives could be altered in unforeseen ways. Things could go terribly wrong.”

  “You’re completely arbitrary, you know that?” Bianca said. “You were fine with interfering when you repaired her Pages. The least you could do is help her start a family.”

  “There were greater forces at stake than you could hope to understand, Snow White.”

  Bianca rolled her eyes. “Oh, quit it, Figgy.”

  “If I hadn’t ended Rory’s tale with her rescue by a prince, Malice might have made good on the threat she made at Briar Rose’s christening. I saved your friend’s life, and this is the thanks I get?”

  I could feel the rage creeping hot through my chest. “So giving her a life of miserable futility was better than trying to reason with your sister? If Malice is so big and bad, what’s stopping her from setting up another spindle and finishing Rory off? You’re covering nonsense with more nonsense.”

  “You may still be angry with me about your own Pages, Cecilia, but the birds helped you become who you are.”

  “They also destroyed Darling and Sweetie’s lives. There was no justification for you to set loose your winged weapons after my wedding. They didn’t deserve to be punished.”

  “Sometimes my emissaries are a bit overexuberant. If the girls hadn’t swatted at them so much—well, what’s done is done.”

  “Why couldn’t you have punished Lucinda, instead? Why do you insist on destroying the innocent? The girls. Rory. When does it stop?”

  “My actions were a punishment for your stepmother, and if you can’t see that, then the birds blinded you, too.”

  “Come on, Bianca. Let’s go home.”

  Figgy’s head spun around, as it does when she’s spooling herself up. “Not so fast, Cecilia. I’m not even close to finished with you two. As long as we’re airing grievances, I’d like to point out that neither of you had been born yet, let alone witnessed the aftermath of the nightmare Rory’s paramour, Fred, created. This arrogance and ignorance of yours will bring us all to ruin. What could you possibly hope to accomplish by doing something as dangerous as taking Snow White Outside before she’s finished her Pages?”

  “Hey, I’m right fucking here,” Bianca said. “It was my choice.”

  “You think I don’t know things,” the owl continued. “The birds were chattering, of course. It isn’t every day three of Grimmland’s princesses visit Solace. Where were you off to, I wondered. Neverland? Wonderland? I hear Toyland is quite nice this time of year. But no. You should be ashamed, roping Briar Rose into your nonsense. Think of the memories this must dredge up for her.”

  “We were perfectly responsible,” Bianca said. “And Rory had fun for once. She needs a distraction even more than we do. Which is why we came to you in the first place.”

  Figgy swept her wings to her side in a flap of annoyance. “The very idea! If you were trapped Outside . . .”

  Bianca smiled her not-very-nice smile. “I decide where I go and when. If I go Outside and never come back, it won’t make a bit of difference.”

  A big gust of wind shook the tree house, and Figgy threw her wings wide. “See what you’re doing, you—you reckless girl!”

  “Oh, come on,” Bianca said, unfolding her arms wide. “I’m not a child anymore. You can’t expect me to believe that I control the fucking wind. Come on, blow, wind, blow!” Nothing happened. Bianca leaned out the window. “Hey, you blustery bastard, get back here!”

  “You girls won’t be satisfied until you’ve completely destroyed our lives.” Figgy turned toward the windows, shuddering. “Do you know why there are rules about traveling?”

  “Because you are the enemy of fun?” Bianca said, pinching a canary feather from her gown.

  “If you became trapped with unfinished Pages the repercussions would be unimaginable. Hasn’t Briar Rose served as warning enough?”

  “The Fred and Rory story is getting tiresome,” I said, “Besides, Fred didn’t get trapped Outside; he interfered with her Pages and was banished. It’s completely different.”

  “It is exactly the same outcome, no matter how the Pages are disturbed.” Figgy clicked her beak at Bianca. “A great storm, your timeline ripped from the world, every interaction spinning backward, your friends, your family. If your father were here, he would say—”

  Bianca was spitting mad. “But my father isn’t here, Figgy. I don’t need his permission or yours to do anything or to go anywhere. Regardless of your opinion, I am an adult.” Another big gust rocked the treetop.

  “The clock portals regulate the magic of time, time that is easy to lose track of Outside. Solace and I agreed her portals would open into a safe place, a place where Humans won’t suspect us when we appear, where we can observe them and quickly return. It’s just as dangerous for you, Cecilia, as it is for Snow White. If an accident or a disaster or some obstacle shouldn’t allow you to return, the magic of the Realm would eventually wear off, and you would never be able to come back.”

  “You and Solace are pretty cagey about how long eventually is,” I said.

  “Outside,” Figgy said stiffly, “is a very complex place.”

  “Translation: You have no idea,” Bianca said. “Typical.”

  It was Figgy’s turn to be ruffled. “Solace ascribes to the dangerous belief that we need to understand how the Humans are evolving. How they think of us. I suppose knowing more about the future of Humans helps us to know how long their imaginations will last, how long we have left—if our Realm will continue to grow or shrink to nothing. But in my opinion, the portals should be shut down entirely. What are we to do with this information once we have it? Needless danger.”

  Bianca snorted.

  “Why can’t you girls simply be happy with what is?”

  “You trap us here and expect us to like it? When there’s a gigantic Outside full of shit we don’t know anything about—constantly evolving and being created—and we should just sit here and be happy? How does that work?”

  “How can we not want more?” I added, more softly.

  “Our Realm,” said Figgy, “is even bigger than Outside. Explore what’s here. Let the birds bring the rest.”

  “How convenient for you,” Bianca said. “Rory remains childless and CeCi is bored silly and I get to marry someone I don’t love. Good times.”

  “We should have known you wouldn’t help,” I said, for what felt like the nineteenth time.

  Figgy froze. “Promise you’ll never go Outside again, and I’ll help you.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” Bianca spat. Figgy blinked at her sentinels. We needed to get out of there before she sedated us or threw us into the forest like she did the time I threatened to barbecue her guards. I turned for the door.

  “Hold it,” Bianca snapped. “She owes us a refund.”

  “How about a nice flying spell?” asked Figgy, slipping a bottle from her apron.

  “What the hell are we supposed to do with a flying spell?” Bianca waved the bottle away.

  We had somehow lost the upper hand. Figgy gave a slight shake of her head. “A summoning spell, instead? Those are always nice when you need something off a tall shelf—”

  I reached out and too
k the summoning spell with one hand, Bianca’s sash with the other, and marched us out the door.

  “Way to lose your composure in there,” I said. “You were very helpful.”

  “Like you did any better. Honestly, a summoning spell? You couldn’t have held out for something more useful?”

  I let go of her once we reached the landing. “You were about two insults away from having us becalmed. You remember how fun that was, right?”

  “You can’t put that one on me,” she said. “That was all you and your little blond temper.”

  “You know, you aren’t a very nice person sometimes.”

  “Yeah, being called on your shit sucks, doesn’t it, Cinderella?”

  “Go choke on an apple.”

  “I would but your fucking worms ate them all.”

  I fought a panicked giggle. How had we messed things up so badly? “What are we going to do about Rory?”

  “Guess she’ll have to get knocked up without us.”

  “You’re impossible,” I said. We walked the rest of the way, lobbing insults back and forth until we couldn’t stop laugh-crying. Bianca asked me in for squab skewers, but as tempting as it was, I suddenly wanted to be home to unravel all of Figgy’s threats and insinuations. Why did she offer to help Rory if we agreed to stay? Why is keeping Bianca in line so important? Is my dream really worth all this, if I’m the one responsible?

  What do you see in all of this, Zell? What are we missing?

  Love,

  CeCi

  Important Fucking Correspondence from Snow B. White

  Onyx Manor

  West Road, Grimmland

  Z,

  Our second trip to Figgy’s was such a complete disaster it’s barely worth retelling. To sum up, we’re all being spied on by birds and CeCi thinks having our principles questioned is permissible because we made it out the door with a summoning potion.

  Regardless, we forge ahead with the day of bacheloretting. I discover, upon rescuing CeCi from an intense Q&A with Lucinda, that she’s come up with an elaborate story for Solace. She explains it with great big swooping gestures while she, Rory, and I lug our overnight bags to the clock shop, Rory’s new dog panting behind us.