The little girl’s gentle touch and the way she implored me with her big brown eyes made my breath hitch. I couldn’t put a finger on my sudden flood of emotions, nor whether the connection I felt was sisterly or maternal. All I knew was, it was too much.
“I’ve never told anyone a bedtime story,” I said, hoping closing the topic would effectively stop all the sentimentality that was seeping into my heart.
I leaned against Snow White’s pillows—which were even plumper than mine at home—and stared up at the ceiling. It had as many tiers as the most decadent wedding cake, rising upward beyond the lights’ highest reaches, disappearing in blackness.
“Didn’t your mother tell you stories when you couldn’t fall asleep?” the princess asked.
“I must have never had trouble falling asleep,” I said, though it wasn’t true.
“Well, I did,” Claire piped up. “My mother and I live above a tavern, and it’s sometimes very loud.”
“Just your mother and you?” Snow asked. “What happened to your father?”
“He left us when I was about your age,” Claire said.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Snow said ever so softly. She placed her hand on Claire’s.
“I’m not. He was a beast,” Claire said. “We are better off without him, believe me.”
My heart squeezed for Claire. “I never knew that.”
“It’s not something I like to talk about,” she said.
“Haven’t you any brothers or sisters?” Snow asked Claire. “I always wanted a big sister.”
“I had a brother, once,” Claire said. “Corbin was four years older than I, and he was brave and cunning. However, an ogre got the best of him. Three ogres, in fact. He perished in the war.”
“No!” Snow said, her dark eyes round as the moon. “I am so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Claire said. “I like to think he died fighting to make the Enchanted Forest a better place for the rest of us.”
“Oh, he did. He truly did,” Snow said emphatically.
The three of us sat on the soft bed in reverence for quite a while before Snow broke the silence. “So, what story did your mother tell you when you couldn’t sleep, Thief?”
“She told me a story about pirates,” Claire said with a captivating hint of drama. “They’d scour the village, snatching up little children who were on the streets past their bedtime, tying them up and forcing them onto their ships.”
“And then what?” Snow prompted.
“They’d sail far away, so far no one could hear the children scream as the pirates forced them to walk the plank.”
“How awful!” Snow tapped her temple with her finger. “What if the children had started screaming straightaway, like the very moment they got on board? Then, if the pirates made them walk the plank anyway, they’d be close enough to the shoreline to swim home. They could run back to their homes and go to sleep. After they changed out of their wet clothes, of course.”
“Oh, no,” said Claire in a low voice. “The sea is teeming with deadly creatures, whether the waters are deep or shallow.”
“Like what?” Snow asked, leaning forward.
“Crocodiles with teeth like butchers’ knives. Giant octopuses that will wrap their tentacles around you…” she said, wrapping her arms around Snow. Snow let out a little scream and covered her mouth to keep more from coming out. Claire tightened her grasp and continued, “and crush the life out of you in two seconds flat. There are also mermaids with tails as sharp as daggers, and mouthfuls of teeth even sharper.” Claire smiled at Snow and bared her teeth.
“I don’t care for your story,” Snow said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s stupid. Mermaids don’t hurt people. They just sing and brush their hair all the day long.”
“Like Tagalong?” Claire said, laughing.
“I don’t sing,” I said. Now that I thought about it, I had probably been Snow’s age the last time I’d sung. My parents had taken me to the springtime celebrations in the village, and the children were singing and dancing about a maypole with streamers of every color of the rainbow. I was too shy at first, but with my father’s gentle nudges, I eventually joined in. From the sidelines, he clapped and chuckled. My mother, however, crossed her arms over her chest, a frown darkening her face. Later, as we were in the carriage heading home, a wreath of fresh flowers crowning my head, she turned to me and said, “It’s a good thing you’re beautiful, my darling girl, because you are no nightingale.” I swallowed the memory and turned back to the princess, who’d been watching me intently. “So, Snow,” I said, afraid she was going to ask me yet again for a story. “If you’re an expert on bedtime stories, let’s hear one of yours.”
“All right. Let’s see.” She pressed her finger under her chin as she thought. “I could tell you a story about the Blue Fairy. That’s a wonderful tale Johanna loves to tell me. The Blue Fairy does so many nice things for people—all you have to do is go to Firefly Hill, find the blue star, and ask. As long as your heart is pure, she will grant your wish.”
“Everyone’s heard that story,” I said, unimpressed.
Snow tapped under her chin. “Oh! I know another one. Now, this one is really scary, so be warned,” she said melodramatically. “Deep in the darkest part of the forest, there lives a blind witch whose cottage is made entirely of gingerbread and other sweets. She lures children into her house and fattens them up. And then, she eats them up for supper!”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Yes, we’ve been there! We’ve met that witch. However, as you can plainly see, she did not eat us. Not even a nibble.”
Snow scrunched her annoyingly perky nose. “You shouldn’t fib to me. It’s impolite.”
“All right, have it your way, Princess. She did eat us,” I jested.
“No! I mean, you shouldn’t fib about having been at the gingerbread cottage,” Snow said, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, but we have,” Claire insisted. “The blind witch shared her cakes with us. Despite that, she wasn’t exactly cordial. In fact, she blew us out of her cottage, which was a little extreme, if you ask me. And she stole my ring.”
“Oh, no! Was it a special ring?” asked Snow.
Claire sighed. “Actually, yes. It was my brother Corbin’s. The good vicar brought it to my ma before we buried him, and she gave it to me. It was gold with a cabochon garnet, and was carved in the shape of a dragon’s claw. It was too large for my fingers, but I wore it around my neck on a chain.” She paused and pressed her palm on her chest, over her heart. “It made me feel closer to him,” she said in a sad, soft voice. I thought maybe she was going to cry, but when she looked over at us, she smiled. “I’m sure the blind witch doesn’t really eat children. It must be a silly story adults tell to keep their own children from venturing too far into the woods.”
Snow stared at Claire one moment, and me the next, like she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around what we were telling her. “Pardon me for saying so, but you cannot know that for certain. You two are too old for her to eat. Your meat is tough and stringy and altogether unappetizing. She likes the tender meat of young children, such as myself.” She held her head high, as if she took great pride in her tender meatiness.
“That may be, but I truly think you have nothing to worry about. The witch probably made up the part about eating children herself,” I said, “to keep pesky little youngsters from bothering her. That way, she can live in peace, eating all the sweets her heart desires and having her treasure all to herself.”
“Treasure?” Claire said, smirking. “Nice touch. Oh, I know! We should go back to the gingerbread cottage and fill our pockets with the witch’s booty.”
“Don’t invite the pirates,” I said. “They’d keep it all for themselves. They can’t really help themselves; it’s what they do.”
A huge grin spread over the young royal’s face—broad enough that I spied a gap or two where her baby teeth had fallen out. “Ooooooh! What an adventure that would be! Will you take me wit
h you? Of course, I would need a nickname, too. How about…”—she pressed her finger to her lips thoughtfully—“Bandit?” Claire and I exchanged a glance and tried to hold back our laughter. “I will be the one to find Corbin’s dragon ring, because naturally the witch keeps it in the treasure room.” The princess let out a big gaping yawn and promptly covered it with the back of her little hand. “I’m not afraid of that mean ol’ witch. I’m not afraid of anybody, or anything.” She barely eked out the last word before she yawned again.
Knowing it was time for us to leave, I leaned over and blew out her bedside candles. Snow let out a bloodcurdling scream, startling Claire and me right off the bed.
Johanna burst into the room. “Snow, darling, what is it? Why have your candles gone out?” She shot over to Snow’s side like a cannonball. “Who is in here? You there, what do you want with the princess? Guard! Guard!”
“Johanna, please,” Snow said calmly. “Shhh. Don’t alert the guards. These are my friends. They’ve been keeping me company while you were gone. They came to the ball. See? Don’t they look lovely? So lovely, in fact, all the gentlemen wanted to dance with them. They grew weary of dancing, and they’ve been telling me the most delightful bedtime stories ever since. Please, light my candles and I’ll introduce you.”
Although the woman watched us suspiciously, she did as Snow asked. Soon the royal chamber was once again bathed in a soft, flickering glow.
“I’m not proud of this,” Snow said, turning her attention to Claire and me, “but I’m afraid of the dark.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I said. “I was afraid of the dark when I was your age, as well.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Yes, really,” I said, smiling.
“Well then, I guess there is hope for me yet.” Snow went on to present the two of us to Johanna. “Johanna is my mother’s personal maid, and she takes excellent care of me.” The princess held her chin high and proud.
Johanna smoothed the fabric of her pinafore and shifted on her feet. “Except for tonight, it appears. I shouldn’t have left you unsupervised.”
“Don’t fret one bit about it, Johanna. I promise I won’t tell my parents. It will be our secret. Besides, I wasn’t alone. My new best friends made sure of that.” With another yawn, the princess wound a tiny music box on her bedside table, regaling us with its sweet, simple tune. “This song reminds me of winter’s first snowfall,” she said, her words heavy with imminent slumber.
We bade good night to Snow and Johanna and returned to the ballroom. The music, dancing, eating, and drinking had continued despite our foray into the castle’s restricted quarters. Not that I expected the gala to have come to a screeching halt in our absence, but I was more than a little surprised to see my mother milling about with a small highbrowed entourage as if she didn’t even realize I wasn’t behind her, waiting for her to fill my metaphorical dance card with eligible men.
For a split second, I thought she’d spotted me, and I held my breath. When her gaze continued its seamless rove over the crowd, I was convinced she had not. In her eyes, I was invisible; somehow, it didn’t feel right.
In the distance, I heard a clock strike ten. “Oh, no. I should already be at the bridge.” I silently cursed Snow for eating up so much of our time. “I’m going to be late.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for you,” Claire said encouragingly. “Go. I’ll keep an eye on Cora in case she asks about your whereabouts.”
“Thank you, Claire.”
“I’ll be waiting right here for you.” I turned to leave, but she grabbed my shoulder. “Regina? Promise me if he’s not there, you won’t be heartbroken.”
“I promise,” I said.
She smoothed my hair and gave my cheeks a pinch. “Promise if he is there, you won’t forget about me.”
“I’ll never forget you, Claire Fairchild.”
I trudged through the royal gardens by the glow of the moon, stars, and an occasional firefly, careful not to trip on the roots protruding from the pathway or, later, the jagged stepping stones. Once and again, I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting my mother to be storming after me.
I was so preoccupied with getting there in one piece that I arrived at the bridge before I’d had the opportunity to rehearse what to say to Jasper if indeed he was waiting for me. My nerves were frazzled. Even if I’d known what to say, it probably would have come out embarrassingly unintelligible.
Nevertheless, I needn’t have worked myself up. He was not there.
As I stood looking at the bridge, an odd combination of disappointment and relief wrenched my stomach. The bridge had appeared so charming before, from the back of my horse. Its gentle slope and generous width offered an easy, dry passage from one side of the gurgling stream to the other. Its white paint was chipped here and there, and nearby bushes burst with dark pink roses like the ones that were in Snow’s chamber. They flanked both banks, offering not only beauty but a sweet and rich fragrance.
But in the dark, it seemed like a sad and lonely place, leading nowhere new. Orchestral music wafted through the courtyard and into the gardens, heralding the resumption of the dancing in the ballroom.
A lump formed in my throat, and tears welled in my eyes. “You haven’t the power to break my heart,” I whispered to Jasper, wherever he might have been. For all I knew, he was watching me from somewhere in the gardens. Perhaps he’d been keeping an eye on me all night long. Grabbing the bottom of my gown, I rushed back toward the castle—and nearly ran into somebody as I rounded the fountain.
“Oh!” we said at the same time, and I gasped out loud when I realized it was Prince Benjamin.
“Regina. I was not expecting you,” he said through his yellowish teeth as he grasped my shoulders to steady me. “I’m not disappointed to discover you’ve had a change of heart, though.”
I wriggled out of his grasp. “I simply came outside to get some fresh air. I didn’t realize anyone was out here. You haven’t seen anyone else, perchance?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you looking for somebody in particular?”
“No,” I said, probably too readily to have been believable. “I don’t want to bump into anyone else out here. I’m, um…afraid of the dark,” I said, borrowing Snow’s line in a pathetic attempt to get away. “Now, if you’ll kindly excuse me…” I stepped around him and resumed walking.
“Regina, wait!” Benjamin called after me. “I’ll escort you back to the ballroom.”
“There’s really no need for that,” I answered, hoping he would keep his distance. However, I heard his panting and heavy footfalls not far behind.
Thankfully, Claire was waiting to receive me at the door, and the instant I stepped in, she threaded her arm through mine. “It appears you have a new beau,” she said, nodding at Benjamin, whose stubby legs had to work overtime to keep up with me.
“If I throw some salt on that slug, do you think he’ll disappear?” I asked under my breath.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Claire said. “And I know where to find an entire block of it.”
I loved how we didn’t even have to talk about where we were really going or what we were going to do when we got there. By the time Benjamin arrived in the ballroom, we were gone. We veered off into the banquet hall and wended our way through the kitchen, where we had to sidestep a cook carrying a steaming pot and a greyhound snoozing beside the stove. Once we were back in the pantry, I shed my shoes and gloves, and Claire rose to the tips of her toes to reach the cider.
We settled into our previous positions, sitting on the floor and leaning against sacks of flour. I gladly accepted the jar she handed me.
“He wasn’t there,” I said flatly, staring down into the pungent amber-colored liquid.
Her eyes became glassy for a couple of seconds, and then she blinked. “I’m sorry, Regina.” We each took a couple of swigs of cider before she said, “But I’m holding you to your promise. I won’t allow you to be heartbroken
.”
I swallowed and forced a smile.
“I don’t blame you if you want to leave,” Claire said. “I’m sure my uncle won’t mind taking us home.”
Truth be told, I wasn’t opposed to going to bed. If anything, my feet needed a break, and the thought of slipping under my covers sounded heavenly. “Too bad we can’t return to Snow White’s room, ask Johanna to tell us all a bedtime story, and fall asleep in that luxurious pink bed,” I said in a joking tone, though I was only half jesting.
“Speaking of bedtime stories,” Claire said, “did the blind witch really have a roomful of treasure?”
I nodded. “Yes. I don’t know why I didn’t mention it before. I just, well, kind of forgot about it until Snow had us telling her about it.”
“Do you think what Snow said could be true?”
Snow White’s voice sounded in my head. You are a tagalong. Too scared to do the dirty work. Her words were so clear it was as if she were sitting in the pantry with us. Perhaps it wasn’t a bunch of childish drivel. Although our encounter had been brief, Snow saw something in me. Something I didn’t much like, let alone care to admit. I didn’t want to be a tagalong. I was tired of being a victim. I didn’t want to live in fear. I wanted to come out from the shadows.
When I really thought about it, I wanted to be more like Claire. Only I wanted to be me. The real Regina. I wanted to rise up and show the world my mettle. That thought fired me up from the inside out.
“Regina?” Claire snapped her fingers in front of my face, jarring me out of my reverie. “Goodness! Have you had too much cider?”
“Probably,” I said, and we both laughed.
“So, do you think Snow was right?” she asked once we settled down. She leaned against a bag of beans and rested her hands behind her head. It made her hair stick up like donkey ears.
“About my being a tagalong?”
She giggled again. “No! About the witch hoarding my brother’s ring. I figured by now she’d likely have sold it to somebody, but if she does have a treasure room, do you think it’s there?”
Regina Rising Page 12
