“I do not know,” Marguerite wiped a tear from her eye. “Why have you been smashed?”
“I was crafted by Dwarves, and shattered for a flaw they could not correct, and a price they regrettably paid. But you, my dear Snow White have seen my kind before.” The Mirror stated.
“What do you mean?” Marguerite ignored the Mirror’s statement, “the Dwarves regretted the price paid?”
“The Dwarves learned all they knew regarding the creation of Magic Mirrors, from that which was given to them by the Brother’s Grimm. Though, only the Mirror you know well, Specularii was bound to the Law of Three—”
“Three questions, three answers.”
“Correct,” the Mirror smiled and nodded to Marguerite’s response, “but the Dwarves were not as prepared for the price of a Talking Mirror as the Brothers Grimm were.”
“What price?”
“A willing Soul needed to be sacrificed.” The Mirror recanted, and Marguerite shivered with chills that ran through her.
“Is that why they shattered you?”
“No. The Dwarves were remorseful for what they did to the child they bound to it,” the Shattered One commented, “They never again tried to create a Talking Mirror.”
“You were a child?” Marguerite’s eyes filled with tears. Stomach sank. Heart ached terribly.
“I was. So long ago now that all my family has turned to dust. But I was shattered and hidden away,” the Mirror spoke, “for the Dwarves were unaware and unable of how to bind a Mirror to questions. As was Specularii.”
“Why are you here then?” Marguerite questioned and wondered, feeling the frame of the mirror softly with her fingertips. She wanted to feel the cool numb of magic come from the Mirror again. Unwilling to risk breaking the surface any further she moved them to the frame. It was once broken too, as her fingertips felt the cracks and where they had been so precisely put back together,“Who reformed you if you were shattered?”
“I would not call this reformed, but—it will happen. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. Centuries from now even, perhaps, unless the tales are unbound. Then I will have no place in this world. But to answer your questions, I was brought here by Lady Saledii Pastalia Red. Brought here for protection.”
“Protection? Protection from what?” Marguerite asked. Her heart pumped at the name of Saledii being uttered.
“Not what, but whom.” The Shattered One began.
“Who?” Marguerite’s words were lost even to her.
“A mysterious traveler came late one spring eve and knew of many things that even the shadows call secrets. Of what Saledii’s father, Lord Red, and your own, had hidden in this room. I was offered in trade,” the Shattered One spoke his tale.
“Why you?”
“For my protection, for I give information freely.” The Mirror said.
“What was traded?” Marguerite asked but already knew.
“The item you sought today,” the Mirror smirked.
“My mother’s spell book?”
“The very same, Snow White,” the Mirror echoed into Marguerite’s ears, its surface rippled, “but have all been betrayed on a scale larger than your mother’s stolen tome.”
“How?” Marguerite wondered.
“The protector is dead. Killed by Wolves, who are controlled by one who would benefit most greatly from either myself or the spell book, or both,” the Mirror informed Marguerite whose stomach sank further down. She wanted to vomit. She placed both hands upon the wall head low.
“What did Rose Red do?” Marguerite asked through closed teeth, ready to slam the Mirror with her fists. In her ghostly reflection she could almost see her heart beating in her chest. The Bloodstone seemed to glow and beat as well in the light of the Mirror.
“Rose Red betrayed the Realm, to allow a fleeting moment she believed would bring peace. But in the end she herself was betrayed,” the Mirror’s voice grew low and hushed. His green eyes looked about, past Marguerite. They looked out into eternity. Out into threads that only his eyes could see.
Marguerite turned away from the Mirror, “Tell me.”
“Once you have accepted the tale, you must accept the tales fate,” the Mirror spoke in riddles, as they tended to do. Marguerite knew this.
“Tell me everything regarding this matter of betrayal!” Marguerite did not look at the Mirror. She spat as she spoke. She did everything she could to fight back tears. She did not want the Mirror to see her cry, for the Mirror would remember it always and forever.
Breathes heavy. Knuckles white.
“I hope that these answers will lead you to that which you sought originally,” The Mirror’s surface erupted in a flash of green light, brighter in the cracks than on the actual surface.
“I do too,” Marguerite’s, voice barely a whisper to her own ears.
The entire room was bathed in the green glow. Marguerite turned around. Turned to find she looked at the face of Saledii. Sparks erupted from the cracks in the Mirror. They showered Marguerite in cold warmth that numbed her skin. The Mirror’s surface repaired itself.
It was whole again.
The Tale of Saledii Pastalia Red’s Betrayal
Steam rolled elegantly upwards from the marble basin in which scalding water had been poured from a bronze pitcher by Saledii’s handmaiden. She was dismissed. Saledii continued to stare deeply into her eyes. From three small crystal vials, nine drops of clear liquid were added. The water swirled with ruby, azure and emerald ribbons until they disappeared into the scalding water. The steam changed from ghost white to a beautiful and alluring light pink. Rose Red breathed in deeply the sweet smell of lilac and vanilla that the steam produced. Eyes closed, she wiped heavy condensation off the Mirror’s glistening surface. She opened her pumpkin eyes and stared deep into them. The outer edges of orange were wrapped by green. She always thought of them as vines protecting the pumpkin. Her curly fire red hair, bright. Two fires raged on either side of the marble basin. They were contained in brass urns, half the height of Saledii. They provided great warmth to the tiny room she was in. She inhaled deeply before exhaling softly,
“Marguerite, my precious Snow White. You may not find this for some time. But please, I beg of you, find it in your heart to forgive me for my actions. As well, any unforeseen repercussions they may lead to. I have done this, for the Realm, for our cities, and most importantly, for us who have grown so apart since father’s passing.
Listen well, and please understand.
I traded your mother’s spell book away.
I am sure, if you have found this, you already know that information.
I personally undertook this task, as it could not be trusted by anyone.
There are spies everywhere with great, and terrible powers, Marguerite.
The spell book was a small price to pay for this Mirror.
If the one who is searching for it, found this Mirror, all the peace we have known, all the peace our father’s fought for, died for, would come unbound. We cannot allow that to happen.
Please, forgive me, my Sister.”
The image of Rose Red staring at the Mirror with her pumpkin eyes, faded. The steam increased. Rose Red too faded away.
The image swirled about like a multicolored vortex.
The steam faded away, like morning mist hit by the sun.
Saledii with her fire red hair was in mourning. Gown blacker than pitch flowed elegantly down. The fabric sparkled with gems that made all who looked upon her seem as if they stared at the midnight sky. Upon the curly bush of fire red hair a thin silver veil. A mist hung over her face.
She kneeled before the body of her father, Lord Red. He lay upon a wooden slab before the throne of Zhan’ding, the House of Red banners beneath him. Flowers, all red roses piled around him, while stark white roses ring the bottom. Behind Saledii are gathered Ministers, royalty, and citizens of the city and beyond. Brought together to pay their respects to the deceased ruler. All dressed in black, but none as striking as Saledi
i.
She herself did not cry. She did not make a sound.
Saledii merely stared at her father.
His face pale, but scared, deep and unable to heal. Inflicted from the Wolf Queen in her escape, and attempted second imprisonment. Saledii knew, that under the bright crimson armor her father was laid to rest in, his body was broken. She could see that his armor was dented in places. It broke her heart to stare at him.
“You died doing your duty to the Realm, Father,” Saledii spoke to herself as she stood, “And for that, there is no greater honor.”
She held tight to a single red rose, whose tips turned both black and white. It was a flower that her mother was given, and one that has never withered. Saledii placed it tenderly upon her father’s unmoving chest.
“I miss you already.”
Saledii turned to find Marguerite and Lord White in attendance. He in his shining white armor, and silver cape, and Marguerite in a black gown that could not compare to night sky that Saledii wore. The gown was almost grey in comparison.
Marguerite quickly joined sides with her friend. She delicately placed a white rose upon Lord Red’s chest, crossing the rose placed by Saledii. A hand then wrapped around Saledii’s shoulder.
“Come, Saledii,” Marguerite tried to pull her away, “Let us go.”
“Where, Snow?” Saledii nudged her shoulder knocking her friends arm away, and did not look at her, “Zhan’ding is my life now. With my father dead, I must run this city. I must keep the realm safe. I have no more time for adventures.”
Marguerite wanted to touch Saledii’s shoulder again, but left her side. She did not watch her leave. Saledii knelt again before her father. Minutes turned to hours. Saledii did not recall moving his body to the tombs below the city. She only remembered calling the Ministers to her in the throne room. She sat tall within the wooden throne, her father’s ring bright upon her middle finger.
“The Wolf Queen has been recaptured, and more properly secured?” Saledii asked, eyes cold, staring out towards the Ministers.
“Yes. As you know, at great personal sacrifice—”
“Do not speak to me of great personal sacrifices, Minister!” Saledii growled as the creatures they hunted, and interrupted the Minister, “I know more of personal sacrifices than any present.”
“Lady Red, our sincerest and deepest apologies,” another of the Ministers bowed. He like the others, were still dressed down in black robes. Sashes silver around their waists and shoulders, “What are your orders?”
“Gather the forces. We will hunt down every last Wolf, and eliminate every last wretched creature from the face of this realm!”
All the Ministers bowed to Lady Red, ruler of Zhan’ding.
Saledii from the tower that overlooked her majestic red-bricked city watched the soldiers leave. She smiled for the first time since her father’s passing.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
In the throne room, blood red banners hung. They fluttered in the breezes that blew in softly. They were even brighter in the sunlight. It shone in unfiltered through the hundred windows high above. Saledii sat upon the wooden throne, tall and still as a statue. Curly red hair raged as a fire. Nails long to a point and painted in copper. Gown, a beautiful jade that wrapped around and hung off her shoulders by nearly transparent crimson straps. A square opal upon a delicate silver chain hung around neck. Around her the Ministers, they in their elegant scarlet robes and copper sashes. Next to her, a tall gangly man in amber, who held tight in his hands a scroll and quill.
Before them all a group of local peasants from a small mining village called Argentums. Two carried a small detail lacking wooden chest. Unlatching the aged lock, one slid the lid away. Saledii found it to be half filled with silver coins. Crudely casted silver coins that she knew bore a rose. Both Houses agreed a rose that was neither red nor white, centuries ago in their mutual greatness. Saledii hated them. She resented all that they stood for, that which made the House of White superior to her. She wished to just melt them all down, and recast them. Recast them in her image, a red rose. Saledii’s mind returned quickly to the matter at hand. When a Minister cleared his throat.
“Is that all?” The Minister craned his neck from where he stood to see into the chest.
Saledii adjusted herself upon the throne to see as well, “I do believe taxes were higher than this.”
The lanky man next to her shuffled through several scrolls that held. Saledii snapped her fingers without looking at him. Shuffling a little more before nodding silently to Saledii with squinted eyes. A few Ministers chatted and gossiped in hushed whispers. The villagers looked upon each other wearily.
“We apologize, Lady Red,” those that carried the chest shuffled back as the village elder approached. He was a tiny man. Hair grey, but still he possessed the vigor of youth that came through his eyes of pale sapphire. The cloth cap he wore was taken off and squeezed between his fingers. He fiddled with it endlessly, “But, but the silver mines. They have become over run with Wolves. They have returned, in great number. The trek to Zhan’ding alone through the Hessen Forest is challenging, at best. They are encroaching upon our lands. They—”
“There is no need to worry,” Saledii threw a hand into the air. She stared down the peasants. “The Wolves will be disposed of. As we have always done.”
“Words. It is all words!” A younger peasant of those present shouted.
“Be quiet!” The Elder tried to silence the young man. He stumbled over the chest. The force of his foot caused it to fall over. The silver coins spilled outwards. Their chimes cascaded into all ears.
“I would listen to your Elders, child,” Saledii burst out.
The young man stepped forward, his foot kicked through the coins, “The House of Red takes no action to protect the realm as it once did. But gladly taxes us to death!”
“No report has been given of the Wolves growing in number,” Saledii rose from her throne. The peasants fell back a few paces as Saledii stepped down, “If you cannot produce the silver needed, than you should have come to us sooner. We cannot be held accountable for the vastness that is our domain if we are not told of a threat.”
Saledii turned back with a grin towards the Ministers. They chuckled and nodded their heads in agreement. The lanky man scribbled away on a scroll all that transpired before him and the court.
“You have grown lazy and content, Lazy Red,” the young man called out to Saledii.
“I beg your pardon?” Saledii did not look at him; she merely stared at her great wooden throne. Her breaths grew heavy.
“You no longer care for those beyond your crumbling walls!” The young man yelled to Saledii, his voice monstrous to those quiet. Those that were with him cowered as Lady Red stopped her advance to her throne. She turned upon him. Her head cocked slightly to the side. Lips pursed. Fists tight and knuckles snow white. Copper nails dug into her palms. Blood dripped delicately to her feet. She spun sharply upon her heel. Her jade dress spun outwards like a great shockwave.
“How. Dare. You!” A finger pointed straight at the man. Blood clung to her nail. A drop hung like a tear. He cowered back. His foot slipped upon the silver that had cascaded from the chest. Head smacked and impacted the sharp wooden corner. A scream rang through the hall. Blood pooled where the man’s head hit. Saledii watched the light leave his eyes before she turned upon her throne and sat again.
“Iscariot!” The Elder yelled, crumbling to his knees, “M-my son. What have you done?” He stared deeply at Saledii.
“I have done nothing,” Saledii commented, flicking her fingers and removing her blood from her nails, “He slipped himself.”
“My-my son!” The Elder screamed.
“We shall deal with the Wolves,” Saledii barked at the shocked peasants. A few shuffled forward. “Now leave!”
The peasants gathered the dead, Iscariot. One of the women closed his eyes. The blood poured without end from the hole in his head, as they drug his lifele
ss body. A few silver pieces were stuck to his foot. Saledii sat upon her throne and stared at the blood soaked silver pieces. Her heart did not break for the loss of life before her.
She waved her hand before her, fingers pointing at the crimson pieces, “Someone clean that mess up!”
Several servants appeared and began to clean up the blood. One attempted to pocket a silver piece. A Minister descended as a hawk does and forcefully removed the piece from her hand. The Minister raised the young girl up by her fragile wrist. He brought her ear close to his lips, “You attempt that again, and your fate will be no different than the peasants whose blood you know clean.”
He dropped her. She rubbed her wrist before continuing to clean the blood away. He then rounded up the silver coins into a satchel that clung to his hip. His fingers bled.
Three Ministers approached and stood before Saledii. “The Wolves?”
“How are the Magic Men coming?” Saledii did not look upon any as she talked. She merely watched the silver be scooped away.
“They have made some progress,” a Minister bowed as he spoke.
“Then send a contingent to the mines in the meantime,” Saledii rose and began to exit but was stopped by a page boy,
“Lady Red, a moment.” The young boy spoke softly. Hands folded behind his back.
“Yes, errand boy?” Saledii did not stop walking. She climbed stairs.
“An individual has arrived, and is requesting a private audience with you,” the young child said.
Saledii stopped, “A private audience? Who is it?”
“They did not give a name, only that they are a traveler summoned by your desires,” the boy said.
“Where?” Saledii looked down at the boy, but she stared past him to the wide expanse of stairs below him.
“Your sitting room.” The boy bowed.
“Thank you.” And with that, Saledii brushed hair out of the young boys face, before she applied force to his tiny forehead. The pageboy tumbled backwards. Saledii watched the child contort and bounce. Bones broke. Skull smashed against the wall. Blood splattered. His young body crashed at the base of the stairs. A snap resounded in Saledii’s ears. He would not move, or tell any of her visits. She needed to know none knew of this meeting. Saledii turned with a great flourish of her jade gown and continued up.
Bound by Roses (The Bound Series Book 1) Page 12
