Tear You Apart

by Sarah Cross

  “So,” the troll said, “it seems you’ve been here for a while. Sit down, dine with us. We’re not savages. I’m hurt you didn’t join us sooner.”

  “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “How considerate.” The troll smiled. “Please, take your seat.” Jasper pulled out her chair for her, and she eased into it, trying to maneuver the full-skirted purple gown into place without knocking something off the table. The queen was seated to her right. She was eyeing Viv with distaste, as if Viv were a disgusting Frog Prince ruining her meal.

  The queen blinked repeatedly while she stared, twisted her napkin in her hands, and cleared her throat until the troll called out,

  “What seems to be the matter down there?”

  “I can’t eat with her staring at me!” the queen said.

  “I wasn’t staring—”

  “Is there something wrong with my face?” the queen demanded. “Oh! I’d forgotten! This one’s the fairest of them all. No wonder she doesn’t like what she sees!”

  “I didn’t—” Viv wasn’t sure what she’d done to provoke this. She was stuttering out replies, trying to defend herself, but the queen talked right over her, and finally smashed a champagne flute with her palm.

  “Ahhh,” the queen cried, clutching her injured hand. “I’m bleeding.”

  “Of course you are, dear,” the troll said pleasantly. “That’s what happens when we break glass with our hands.”

  The queen moaned. “It hurts.”

  Jasper took Viv’s hand beneath the table. “It’s not your fault,” he murmured. “She’s not herself.”

  “Eat your dinner before it gets cold,” the troll said. “Go on. Yes, Vivian, my lovely queen wasn’t fated for the underworld, so the magic has spoiled her mind. But you needn’t be concerned that will happen to you. If you go mad, it will be for other reasons.”

  Only the troll ate with gusto. The princes picked at their food, as did Viv. They sat and suffered through seven courses and a trifle for dessert. All through dinner the queen kissed her bloody hand, murmuring, “There, there. It will be all right.” By dessert Viv felt sick and stuffed, like the food had risen as far as her throat, but she kept spooning cream and cake into her mouth until the troll was done with his own meal. She tried to think of some way to ingratiate herself, to endear herself to this monster, but all she could do was eat and wait for someone else to break the silence, to alter the tense mood and make it easier for her to say something friendly. No one did.

  When everyone was finished and the troll had tossed his napkin onto his plate, Viv pushed her chair back. “Thank you. For the lovely dinner. I—”

  “Wait,” the troll said. “I know you’re eager to return to your quarters. But I believe my son has something special planned.”

  The room went quiet. The servants stopped moving. Only the crackle of the fire continued.

  “Rise, both of you,” the troll said, gesturing as if they were his puppets. Jasper did as he was told; Viv followed a second after.

  Don’t, she wanted to say. Whatever it is, don’t. But she was afraid to challenge the troll. He held all the power here and she couldn’t afford to make him her enemy.

  “Viv,” Jasper began.

  “Call her Vivian,” the troll prodded.

  “Vivian,” Jasper began again. “I—you mean everything to me, and—it would make me—you would make me the happiest man in the world if—”

  Jasper went down on one knee.

  Viv recoiled in dizzy horror. She started to tip back on her heels, unwilling to believe this was happening.

  “If you would be my wife.” The hinge on the ring box made a loud snapping sound as it opened. “Will you marry me?”

  Dessert and all seven courses reared up. She couldn’t breathe.

  “Give the boy an answer,” the troll said.

  Her hands were trembling. Jasper stared up at her with a desperate message in his eyes. A warning not to offend his father?

  She made a choking sound and Jasper slid the ring onto her finger. It was cold and heavy and felt like a lead spider clinging to her hand.

  “She said yes!” the troll exclaimed. He threw his long arms into the air and whooped and called for drinks. Not champagne—they would drink pomegranate brandy in honor of her decision. Pomegranate—the fruit that bound Persephone to the Greek Underworld.

  “I’m sorry,” Jasper whispered. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and she collapsed against him in shock.

  Music began to play. Something loud and celebratory. The troll grabbed one of the female servants and whirled her around. The other princes stayed mutely in their seats. The queen was nursing her fingers. Viv closed her eyes and pressed her face to Jasper’s shoulder so she wouldn’t have to see any of it.

  * * *

  Alone in her room, Viv examined the ring. It was a large, heart-shaped diamond surrounded by smaller pieces of ruby and onyx, set on a platinum band that curled around her finger like a claw. She kept turning her hand to look at it, appalled that it was there.

  Jasper had gone to give Garnet the news. Viv had stayed behind so as not to be congratulated.

  Restless, she pushed open the stained-glass window. Boats streamed across the silver lake. Another night of dancing for the twelve princesses. She lifted a music box from a shelf and was winding the crank, waiting for the ballerina on top to start twirling, when Jasper came in.

  “Garnet sends her love,” he said. “She’s dying to see your ring.”

  “She’ll see it tomorrow.”

  The music box played a fragile lullaby. The ballerina was turning, turning on her bright red toe shoes, her arms frozen in the air above her head.

  “I would have liked to do that differently,” Jasper said. “I hope you know that.”

  “Why did you do it at all?”

  “My father …”

  “Rules this place. I know. But this is serious. This is about us. You have to take a stand now, or it’s always going to be like this. Your father is going to think he controls us as long as you let him.”

  Jasper sighed. “I know. But I think it’s important to be smart about when we defy him. We were going to get engaged, anyway. There’s no sense in pissing him off when the thing he wants is something we want, too.”

  “Jasper … I’m not ready to be engaged. I just—”

  “You just what?”

  I just lost the boy I love.

  “We should do something fun,” Jasper said. “Do you want to go to the club? Or we could spend a little time together.…”

  He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her neck, and she jerked away.

  “Save it for our wedding night.”

  Jasper sighed. “What was I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. Anything other than what you did? You have more power here than I do!”

  “I don’t have any power here!”

  Viv bristled. “That wasn’t your story when you were begging me to come live here. What happened to I can protect you?”

  “This is different. My father isn’t hurting you. He’s just … eager to make it official.”

  “Well, I’m not!”

  “Then why are you here?” Jasper snapped. “Is it just because your Huntsman’s dead, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

  “Answer me. I’ve tried to pretend that nothing ever happened between you two, despite what I’ve heard. But that’s not working. So let’s get it out in the open. He was your first love, wasn’t he? You had sex with him. Go ahead, admit it. I might as well know.”

  She laughed, bitter disbelief staining her voice. “Oh. My god. This is unreal. You think you get to make demands? You and your messed-up father forced me into accepting a proposal, what—two hours ago? So let me be helpful now and reveal my dirty, dirty past, because yes, I loved Henley, and I still do. Even if he is dead—his corpse would make a better husband than you. At lea
st he had the balls to stand up for me.”

  Jasper slapped her hard across the face. The pain spread in a stinging wave across her cheek, and she gaped at him, eyes watering—and then she laughed. That’s what she was good at. Being cold. Walling herself off. Not letting anyone see her feel anything.

  “Well,” she said. “I guess you’ll stand up to someone.”

  “I was going to apologize.” He’d looked almost shocked after he hit her, but his face turned fierce when she mocked him. He felt the slap was justified now. She could see it in his eyes, the anger that flashed there before he stormed out of the room.

  She locked the door after he left. As she lifted her hand to her burning cheek, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and she wasn’t sure who she was looking at: the fairest, or the most foolish.

  The troll’s words repeated in her head.

  If you go mad, it will be for other reasons.

  This was her happy ending.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “NO,” VIV MURMURED to herself, “I’m not staying.”

  She waited until the eleven princes had left the palace for the night, then went to Jasper’s room. She’d guessed he wouldn’t be there—that he’d be sulking with Garnet, or at the club—and she was right. She was looking for invitations, and it didn’t take her long to find them. Resting on a small table, on a silver tray, was a stack of black-and-silver cards. You’re Invited. She picked up the top invitation and more words appeared. Yes or No?

  Hell no, she thought. But that wasn’t the question it was asking.

  “Yes,” she said. But nothing happened. Maybe these were for tomorrow night?

  She searched the room, opening drawers, flipping through the books on Jasper’s desk, and finally found a handful of invitations in one of his jacket pockets. She picked one up, tried again.

  “Yes.”

  This time the card crumbled instantly, leaving a pair of silver swirls on her forearms and a pile of dust at her feet. Viv kicked the dust under Jasper’s desk—or tried to—and quickly left the palace. She hurried down the path, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, crossing her fingers that no one was watching out the window at that moment. She didn’t stop until she’d merged with the thirty or so guests who were mingling outside the club.

  Viv spotted a woman with purple lips and asked her, “Can I borrow your lipstick?”

  “What?”

  “Your lipstick. Do you have it in your purse? Can I use it?”

  “I don’t even know you,” the woman said, drawing back.

  Another guest whispered in the woman’s ear—underworld princess was all Viv heard—and the woman gave her another look and said, “Uh—yes. All right. But I don’t know why you’d want to cover up your trademark.”

  “Right,” Viv said, taking the tube the woman offered. “Sometimes you feel like a change.”

  It was a weak plan—but she needed to do something to be less immediately recognizable to the guards. She ran the lipstick over her lips twice to make sure her red-as-blood feature was covered, then gave it back and made her way down the hillside, avoiding the part of the shore where the boats docked, and continuing into the silver forest. Very few guests cut through the forest—the storybook allure of the gondolas was too great, and the powdery gray soil would ruin a pair of shoes or the hem of a dress—so Viv had a few minutes to think about what she would do once she’d escaped.

  If Regina was counting on Viv’s stay in the underworld being brief, she might be waiting for her—in the alley, even. It wasn’t as if she had other obligations. She could devote every waking moment to ending Viv’s life. Maybe she’d be there with the old Huntsman. Or maybe one of her witch friends would hold Viv down while Regina crammed a poison apple down her throat. Maybe Regina would enlist some other cursed villain to help her. Or just some bored, unethical guy who wanted to sleep with her.

  Viv knew she could be walking into a trap. Maybe it was stupid to leave, but she had to take that chance.

  She exited the forest and came out onto one of the paths. All the guests were moving toward the lakeshore. She was the only one who was trying to leave, and she worried that alone would be suspicious. Would they even let her out? She made sure her sleeve covered the entry mark on her right arm, and stepped up to the checkpoint. She waited until one of the guards turned to her, then pushed up her left sleeve so he could see her exit mark.

  She didn’t say a word. She kept her head down, which meant, unfortunately, that she was looking at his sword.

  “Leaving already?” the guard said. “You’ll have a hard time getting up there. It’s a nonstop flow of people coming in through the doors. You’re likely to get shoved back a few times. Kicked in the head, depending on the door you use. Or we could avoid all that,” he said as another guard grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her back, “and bring you back to the palace.”

  “What are you talking about?” Viv said, struggling to free herself. “I’ve never been to the palace. No one goes there.”

  “I’ll let the king tell me if I have the wrong girl,” the guard said. “I have orders that you’re not to leave. The prince’s fiancée needs to be protected at all costs.”

  The guard called for someone else to relieve him. Then he and the other guard took Viv through the silver forest, and though she kept up a barrage of lies and excuses—everything from I’m not your prince’s fiancée to Why are you following the troll’s orders? He stole you. He’s making you sick. Why are you doing what he says?—nothing had any effect, except maybe to piss them off.

  “Why would I do what you say?” the guard asked. “You’re not going to kill me if I disobey you; he will.”

  “Isn’t that reason enough to disobey him?” she asked, struggling anew. Her wrists were so raw it felt like she was about to twist the skin off.

  The guard laughed. “Yeah, let me risk death so you’re happy. Sorry, Princess, not gonna happen.”

  They dragged her past the crowd outside the nightclub and every head swiveled to watch. The woman with the purple lipstick opened her mouth, scandalized, and smacked her companion on the arm. Viv hated them all right now. She hated everyone so much.

  The guard brought her to her room, shoved her in, and locked the door from the outside. “I don’t recommend climbing out the window,” he told her. “If you fall and break your leg, the king might cut it off.”

  Viv slid down against the door. She bit her purple lips in frustration, banged her fists on the floor. She’d just blown her best chance to escape.

  She sat there until the silver marks disappeared from her arms, trying to figure out how to get out of this. Pounding on the door woke her. She sprang away from it, holding her head.

  “The king expects you at breakfast,” a man’s voice said. “Hurry up. You’re making everyone wait.”

  The troll, his queen, and all twelve princes were already seated in the dining room. A few of the princes glanced up at her arrival. Most—including Jasper—stared at their empty plates, or at the profusion of breads and muffins piled in baskets and arranged just so. A rainbow of fruit was scattered decadently across the table, as if the troll planned to paint a still life later: plump grapes lounging on top of apples, which bumped up against bananas, pomegranates, and oranges. The servants had begun pouring the drinks: coffee for the troll, orange juice for everyone else.

  “We have our meals at regular times,” the troll informed her. “You’re late. I suppose your escape attempt caused you to oversleep.”

  Viv ignored the last comment. “I didn’t know the schedule.”

  “Breakfast at ten, lunch at one, dinner at seven,” the troll said. “Perhaps now you can arrive on time.”

  Viv went to the empty seat beside Jasper, and put her hands on the chair back but didn’t sit down.

  “I want to go to Beau Rivage,” she said. “To announce my engagement. Today.”

  She thought she detected a twitch in Jasper’s posture. The troll steepled
his fingers and sighed as if he was sorry to have to say this, but …

  “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Vivian. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go. You’re still in danger, and what would it look like if I put my future daughter-in-law in harm’s way?”

  “Then send me with someone. A guard.” She was certain she could lose a bodyguard in the city. “You’re a father. Don’t you think I should tell my dad I’m engaged?”

  “I’d send him a postcard if I thought he cared. But you’re a Snow White princess, so we know that’s not the case. Now sit, Vivian. Eat something. We don’t want you to waste away.”

  She took her seat finally, her nails digging into her palms. There was a lusciousness to every piece of fruit, a golden warmth to every pastry, but she looked at all of it and imagined it sticking in her throat, as repellant as a chunk of poison apple.

  “I’m not opposed to a little display of affection,” the troll prodded, smearing butter onto a roll. His gaze hovered on Jasper until he leaned over and kissed Viv’s cheek, to which the troll replied, “Ah, young love.”

  The princes took tiny, decorous bites, sipped their juice in such small doses the drinks might as well have been props. No one initiated conversation but the troll, and he seemed to wield that power deliberately, using either silence or talk to ensure they were all constantly uncomfortable.

  Viv tried again. “I would come right back. I came here by choice; I obviously want to be here. I just think it’s important to share the news myself, in person—”

  The troll held up a long finger to silence her. He took his time chewing, then said,

  “Vivian. Do you know what I’ve learned over the years? Generosity is never rewarded. It’s an old saying that if you give a man an inch, he’ll take a mile, and it’s true. Do you know how I know this?”

  “Natural-born cynicism?”

  “Because I’ve experienced it. So many times, I’ve lost count. The quickest way to lose faith in humanity—even cursed humanity—is to see them all following the same greedy patterns.”

  Viv thought he was done—he’d made his point—but he’d only begun. He had a captive audience and intended to make use of it, like a sea captain lecturing a prisoner he had tied to the mast.