Closed Doors and Broken Mirrors

by S R Nulton

  Bekins was hardly any better. Whenever my husband was gone, he would harp me about the same thing. Every other sentence had the word ‘door’ on it. I even suggested that he try a new word.

  “Portal sounds so much prettier!”

  He just growled at me and stomped away.

  Oddly enough, Bekins was actually the more frantic of the two. And definitely the more angry. Then again, he always had been. The king was many things, but he always remained in control of his emotions. Bekins, on the other hand… not so much. He had always been an aggressive man but he’d become nearly frenetic in his quest to see me open the door. He’d even taken to following me in the castle, whispering the word ‘door’ over and over again until I thought I’d go crazy for real.

  Well, up until that portal comment. After that he gave me a bit of space.

  The door itself was getting to be problem as well. Whatever magic it had was fairly impressive. There was plenty of noise coming from behind it, often making sleep impossible. That wasn’t the real issue though. Someone had cast a spell on it to make you want to open it. Nothing that eliminated free will, of course. Otherwise it wouldn’t count. No, it just became a fascinating object, full of possibilities and hiding a great treasure. When that didn’t work, it got bigger, taking over most of the wall and changing from a plain thing to a gaudy monstrosity.

  I wasn’t impressed. Neither was the mirror.

  The mirror was actually quite fun to spend time with. It would show me all sorts of things that were going on, particularly the bad luck it had sent my husband’s way. Everything from losing all of his left shoes to slipping on ice in front of a roaring fire to accidentally insulting a delegation from Crechel by referring to them as ‘dirt-crusted plebeians’. I still didn’t know how it pulled that one off. Basically, everything that could go wrong did go wrong for him. It was wonderfully entertaining to watch, particularly with a certain half-Fey captain. Dallin would often sneak in and hide out with me in the library, the one place that Bekins refused to go. He disliked books almost as much as he disliked me.

  About a month after Snow’s supposed death, Bekins started acting particularly squirrelly. He would mutter to himself and glare at me in the halls before stomping into a random room and throwing something against the wall. Then he’d come back out and do it all again. It didn’t last long though. Within a week, he disappeared without a word.

  I didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t exactly the most mentally stable person. Still, he normally made a point of telling me that he was going to help the king with something. He enjoyed reminding me that the king liked him and hated me. The fact that he didn’t speak to me at all struck me as a bit odd.

  I should have paid more attention.

  “Where is he?” my husband shouted as he stormed into the castle.

  I blinked at him, confused and a bit scared. “Who? Tom Thumb?”

  “No, you mad little idiot! Bekins! Where is Bekins?”

  At that point I was really lost. “Noooot with you?” I guessed.

  He gritted his teeth and I noticed he had a few more fine lines around his eyes and that his hair was beginning to be shot through with silver. He’d aged quite a bit in the last month.

  “I’m well aware of that. What I want to know is where. He. Is!” At this point, he had grabbed my shoulders and begun to shake me violently.

  “H-he left! He didn’t say where he was going!”

  Apparently, the clarity of my statement was what he’d waited for. He released me but continued to glare. “I see. I guess I’ll just have to wait here for him to return then, won’t I?”

  All I could think as I watched him walk away was, Oh joy.

  CHAPTER 10: WHAT A RIOT!

  SNOW WHITE

  In case you ever wondered, staring at yourself when you’re dead is just plain uncomfortable.

  I knew that it was just an illusion, but still. It was sort of like when you stare at yourself in the mirror for too long, but much worse and for much longer. Every tiny imperfection was on display for me to see. Every scar, every blemish, every split end, and every extra bit of weight I had was there, staring me in the face, day after day. I’m not a vain person; I’ve never had a reason to be. My mama could change her appearance to be the most beautiful person in the world, so what do looks matter? It doesn’t stop you from being self-conscious when staring at yourself for a couple weeks straight. And word had gotten out that I was actually a princess, so everyone showed up to stare at my corpse, making me more uncomfortable!

  Then there was the added bonus of constantly being reminded of my own mortality.

  The fact that I was wearing an illusion too just made it worse. I looked at the coffin and saw my dead body; I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger.

  “Relax,” James whispered when he found me staring at myself again. This time it was in a window near my seat.

  “I can’t help it! This is just wrong.” I wanted to shout, but knew I couldn’t, so instead I just muttered it. I couldn’t really be angry with him, not when he was still so upset about the whole thing. In fact, he hadn’t really left my side since the incident and had tried to unobtrusively help me settle into my new situation.

  James just smiled at me, something he’d been doing a lot of lately. “It’s fine. You’re still the same woman. You just look a little different is all.”

  I sighed. “I know. And it wouldn’t be nearly as frustrating if I recognized any part of myself. I don’t though. Mama says that not even the most talented Wraith can change their eyes because they reveal the soul. Does that mean that I’ve lost my soul?”

  A chuckle built in the young man’s chest, putting me on the defensive.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, love. I just forget sometimes just how innocent you are. Pure as your given name.”

  I looked at him oddly. For some reason I just couldn’t connect my little temper tantrum with his conclusion.

  He just grinned and took pity on me. “The women I grew up around were obsessed with their looks. Everything had to look perfect at all times. I actually saw a few of them before they’d had time to primp or get ready for the day, mostly when they stayed with my sisters. It was like looking at a stranger. They didn’t look like the person I’d met the night before.”

  It felt like I’d just been dropped into a lake in the middle of winter. “Are you saying I’m shallow, like them?” I didn’t want to ask, but it was one of my fears, that James would suddenly decide I wasn’t who he thought I was. That he would realize that I wasn’t worth his time. He was a prince, after all. He’d grown up knowing what he was and having other acknowledge his position. I’d grown up as a glorified prisoner, unwanted and unloved by my father.

  My question seemed to have confused him though. “Don’t be ridiculous! Those women were trying to look like someone else. Someone more beautiful, I suppose, because they don’t like who they are. You, on the other hand, are worried about losing yourself. You don’t care about how you look, just that you don’t recognize yourself. Snow,” he whispered, taking my hand. “That is an incredibly special thing. You aren’t scheming to make yourself appear better, you’re upset that you had to lose sight of a constant in your life.”

  “Th-that actually makes sense. Everything else about me has changed over the years, but my eyes were always mine. Just like Mama could change her skin or hair but her eyes were always hers.” I’d never thought about it that way before, but it made sense.

  “Now,” James began, “why were you worried I’d think you were shallow? It was more than just an idle question. I may not have known you long, but we’ve spent nearly every day together for the last two months. I can recognize when you’re overthinking something, love.”

  It made me feel warm inside when he called me ‘love’, but I also felt unequal to it. Besides, I knew he had only started using it because he couldn’t use my real name in public. He didn’t actually love me. Still, his question made me
a bit anxious.

  “Don’t lie, love,” he warned. “We want a real relationship and lies will just poison it. And I think we’ve both had quite enough of poison lately.”

  I blinked before blurting out, “You really want a relationship with me?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “B-because, I’m not that special. You deserve someone special.”

  He eyed me strangely for a moment. “Who told you that you aren’t special?”

  “No one had to tell me. It was pretty obvious…” I paused, not wanting to say the next part, but knowing I needed to all the same. “If I was special, then my father wouldn’t hate me so much. If even my father can’t care about me, why would anyone else?”

  James stared at me with huge eyes before shaking his head and speaking in a rough whisper. “What did he do to you? No, I don’t want to know. I doubt I could deal with it right now. You’ll have to tell me eventually, but right now you need to concentrate on the present, not on the past.

  “Love, you are a strong, beautiful woman. You are courageous, soft-hearted, and priceless. Your father couldn’t see that because there is something wrong with him, not you. I won’t say you’re perfect because you aren’t. No one is. In my eyes though? You’re very close. I don’t think you’re shallow because a shallow person wouldn’t go out of their way to purchase supplies from the vendors that are the worst off and nearly die because of it. They don’t risk their lives for people they don’t know when they could run away. They certainly don’t care more about losing themselves than figuring out whether their hair is messy or not.”

  My eyes went wide and I reached for my hair before stopping. James, naturally, laughed at me.

  “That wasn’t nice,” I told him.

  “No, it wasn’t. But I’m not nice, am I?”

  That made me snort. He was many things, but nice wasn’t one of them. He was too sharp tongued and too quiet for such a bland term. But he was perfect for me. And that was quite the speech, particularly for my silent pretty boy

  James smirked and I realized that I’d said all of that aloud. “Pretty boy, eh? Don’t worry, love. I feel the same way. You’re perfect for me too. Actually, well, I wanted to do this a little later, after everything had calmed down, but I don’t want to lose my chance.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Love? Will you marry me?”

  I gasped. “W-what? Really? But we–”

  “We barely know each other, I know. Except, we know each other better than you think. You’ve seen me at my worst and still fought with me instead of letting it pass. You challenge me to be better and accept nothing less. I’ve seen you at your worst and still thought you were amazing and fun to start an argument with.” I glared at him, but he just smirked back. “We make each other better. And I don’t want a short engagement. It’s going to take a while to get your country cleaned up and I know you would regret being distracted by a new marriage at such a time. So, I think we should have a longer engagement. Well, longer than what I really want, which is an hour.”

  “Two years,” I said. “Maybe three. It won’t be too long but it should give me plenty of time to get used to my new job. If I still have it. The country might decide that they don’t want a stranger in charge.”

  “Maybe. That just means we can get married sooner.” He reached out a hand and twined our fingers together when I did the same. “Either way, I get you, and that’s all I really want.”

  I started to smile, then stopped and frowned at him. “Wait, does this mean you actually do love me? It isn’t just a pet name?”

  James rolled his eyes while shaking his head. “Really? Do you think I would call you that if I didn’t love you? I may have acted like a fop, love, but I was never a cad.”

  “That’s debatable,” I replied with a snort. Then, I had to run because he had a look in his eyes that told me I was about to be tickled.

  I hate tickle attacks!

  ~

  The journey from town to town felt like it went much faster after that. My guards weren't well pleased that we'd gotten engaged, mostly because it meant they were suddenly tasked with keeping us from sneaking around together, but they didn't object. Okay, they didn’t object loudly. For a dwarf. For a human, they probably sounded like angry bulls.

  I decided that I would wait to tell Mama until I could do it in person. That was partially because I wanted to hug her when I told her and partially because I knew that being together meant that our fight was almost over.

  Inciting and controlling a budding rebellion is exhausting!

  Also, there were a few other things we needed to discuss, like the horrible rumors that had been started. For some reason, people believed that it was Mama who tried to kill me. Well, the first time made sense, as that was the only way I could run away. The other times though? The only thing I could figure was that she was easy to blame because no one really knew who she was. Most people thought she was an evil witch who was jealous of my beauty. If they'd ever met her, that rumor would have died a quick death. Mama is a stunningly beautiful person, in or out of disguise.

  The rumors only got worse the closer toward the capital we got, but it didn’t destroy all the fun of exploring a new area.

  Generally, it was interesting to visit the larger towns in the south. They were more heavily influenced by the Lake People than those in the north and the east. To them, life revolved around the rivers and it made for a fascinating journey. It also revealed that Father’s spells had begun to deteriorate even faster, making it relatively safe to move closer to Fessrel.

  On one hand, it was a huge victory for us. On the other, it was absolutely tragic to see what had been done to those towns.

  It wasn’t like the north where they really only had to worry about absurd taxes. The complete control he’d had over them had left deep scars. The most glaring were the requisite statues everywhere, depicting my father in a solemn pose, that had been all but worshipped until recently. No ruler should be treated like a god. The real problem, though, were the missing people. Men, women, children, all ages and economic backgrounds, just missing. And it had been going on for hundreds of years!

  The women I could pretty much guess at. Mama and I had seen a number of women brought to the castle for a night or two. We’d even been locked into our rooms when he brought someone home. They never lasted longer than a day though and they didn’t explain the rest of the people, or even the huge number of missing people. It was troubling.

  When I sent a letter asking Mama to search the journals, she sent back a reply that filled me with horror.

  He sold them. He had sold his citizens! She just didn't know where or to whom.

  A little asking around revealed that they had been packed up and sold like chattel, some as servants to the Fey who’d been running wild while their king was cursed, some to counties on the southern continent, but quite a lot of them to a woman named Rancune. I wasn’t sure who she was, but I was going to find out as soon as we got things finished with my Father.

  The only people who weren't suffering under my father's regime were the foreigners he'd invited in. Most of them were merchants from Crechel, but not all. What they did have in common was that because they weren't citizens, they weren't required to submit to the same laws. Well, unless they'd done something to upset my father.

  We’d been getting closer and closer to the capital over the last few weeks and had finally decided to chance a visit after finding out my father had left the day before.

  It was the worst off of any place we’d seen so far. There was a palpable fear that seemed to drive people, despite the tenuous hold my Father’s spell still had. It reminded me of a boulder on a hill. The rain and wind had worn the hill down so that only a tiny bit of soil kept the boulder from rolling down. Fessrel was poised to explode into motion. I just didn’t know what it would look like.

  We set up in a town square, right in front of the palace. Father's palace was as odd looking as the Summer Ca
stle. It was like someone had taken a manor house and made it bigger. The stone walls were a lovely golden brown and the windows each revealed a dark green curtain inside. But people didn't come to look at the palace. No, they came to see the group that was holding a glass casket up as they–we– walked through the city to draw attention. Then the show began.

  It was going about as well as expected. James and Earyn would explain how I was the king’s child and he’d sent an assassin to take me out when I tried to help the people. They talked about how the other countries were supportive of their desire for a new ruler. They even talked about my stepmother, trapped in a horrible marriage and driven mad by her husband.

  It was moving. It was effective.

  It was the perfect place to draw the wrong attention.

  I always stood near the back of the group, hiding behind the casket so I wouldn’t be looked at too carefully. Unfortunately, that meant that Bekins was able to sneak up on me more easily.

  I felt something similar to cold water pour over my head, all the way down to my shoes and realized very quickly that my disguise was gone. The pointing and whispering were my first clue.

  “I knew it! I knew it was you. Why can’t you just stay dead?” he shouted, pulling me by my wrist and wrenching it as he did. That was really my second clue. I didn’t need a third.

  My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I realized just who had me. Bekins was never a fan of mine, but he’d never looked so deranged before. His eyes were bloodshot and framed by dark circles. His normally neat outfit and hair were both in disarray. That alone worried me more than anything.

  “Spells and poison may not be enough to get rid of you, but I’m sure a knife will do the trick,” he declared as he pulled the weapon from his belt. “Good bye, Snow White. Maybe now he’ll finally see me as the child he should have had.”