The Girl in the Glass Box

by Andi Adams

  While bent over, his hair grazed his face and, with her free hand, Genevieve reached out to pluck a chunk of dried mud from his fringe. She squelched it between her fingers. It turned to powder and fell to the ground. "Seems like you still have some work to do." She smiled back and pulled her hand free, relishing in the warmth that still radiated from it. "Wait, what's your name?"

  "Oliver, my name is Oliver."

  "Enchanté, Oliver. You can call me Snow."

  5

  When Agrippine reached her bedchamber, she dismissed her handmaidens. They rushed out, one by one, to leave her in solitude. When the door closed behind the last of them, and she was certain she was alone, Agrippine sighed and relaxed her shoulders. The room was large, but dark, with only slivers of the outside's light filtering in through the dense drapes. Agrippine kept them drawn, always. She felt more comfortable in the shadows.

  Her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, and she moved like a breeze toward her dresser. She opened the top drawer and pulled out an ivory cache. She held it in her fingertips as if she was holding crystal. She placed the box upon the dresser's gilded surface and opened the lid. Her fingers trembled every time she performed the ritual, even though she'd done it hundreds of times before. The lid opened to reveal an old lackluster mirror bedded upon a smooth nest of satin.

  She plucked the mirror from its place and took pleasure in the sensation of the familiar grooves and ridges of the embossed handle. The metal's chill snapped her back to the night when she first received it. The smell of the fire. The roar of the mob. She squeezed the handle tighter to keep her shaking hands from dropping it.

  She lifted the mirror in front of her face with one hand and admired her reflection. Her vibrant red hair was like a crown of flames framing her porcelain, doll-like features. She pursed her lips to accentuate her cheekbones and smoothed her hair with her free hand. As she caressed the wisps around her face, she couldn't help but focus on the misty grey of her eyes and the fullness of her lips.

  Her father's voice resounded loudly to interrupt her thoughts. It's a good thing you look more like me than your mother. No king would want you if you weren't beautiful and then what would I do with you? Your usefulness is the only reason I've kept you. You know that, don't you? Your mother was a mistake. And so are you. But I'll be sure to benefit from the error. I always do.

  Agrippine closed her eyes a moment to avoid her reflection and shook her head to dismiss the memory. When she opened her eyes, she focused on her bone structure and the shape of her eyes. There was no doubt that she had inherited his most prominent features. On one hand, she was grateful for the power her beauty brought her, on the other, she resented it being the only reason her father saw value in her.

  She looked into the mirror again, and this time, the glass swirled in a bluish-grey whirlpool of color before revealing a face similar to, but distinctly not, her own.

  "Mother," Agrippine said, sighing.

  "My dear," the mirror responded.

  "I have made plans to follow your prophecy in regards to the king, but what should I do with the girl?"

  "Agrippine, she is youth. She is beauty. And she must be set in her place."

  "I can't help but hate her. When I look at her, I … I see who I could have been. She is a young princess with not a care in the world. She is a spoiled brat who needs to understand that the world is full of people not worth trusting."

  "What will you do? You know you must tread carefully as long as the king is alive. He is too preoccupied to bother greatly with her, but I'm sure he will not stand for outward admonishment and abuse of his sole heir, either. Don't compromise your position with him, not for her. Not yet. She is young and does not pose a threat to you for now. Take care of the bigger problems and bide your time."

  "I appreciate your good council, Mother. I know I can always count on you when I can count on no one else."

  "Of course you can, my child. Of course you can."

  "Can you conjure the prophetic spirit for further advisement? Perhaps it will tell us how to proceed,” Agrippine suggested.

  "It hasn't reported anything great to me in some time, but I suppose it can't hurt to ask." The mirror's voice changed to a deeper resonance that almost radiated like heat from the glass. "Great Spirit, tell us what you know."

  From the mouth of her mother, Agrippine watched a new voice emerge as her mother's eyes rolled back into her head and her face contorted into an awkward elongated shape.

  From past until present you've conjured

  Dark Magic to help get your way

  but be careful with young and true pure hearts

  since a failure could cause your dismay.

  * * *

  She is just a child but will grow fast

  into a most precious and valuable heir

  and such innocence deep within protects her

  since the Princess is pure-hearted and fair.

  * * *

  And the heart is the one greatest vessel

  that deciphers the bad from the good.

  One can measure and use up its power,

  a skill that shan’t be misunderstood.

  "Pure heart?" Agrippine said. "Fair? Mother, what does that mean? Does it mean she is impervious to magic? Can it be true?" She didn't realize she had been pacing, until she was panting slightly and needed a moment to catch her breath.

  "She is but a child, Agrippine. It seems as though the message states her childhood innocence protects her, but there is only one way to find out for certain."

  "But what? It can't be anything too noticeable or damaging or else I could compromise our secrecy. And I don't want to do anything that would bring the king's attention to the princess. Let me see… let me see…” She picked up her pacing again and rapped her finger upon her lips in time with her step.

  She crossed over to a small, padlocked cabinet by her wardrobe closet, and knelt beside it. She slid her hand behind its back panel, pulled a key off a small nail protruding from the wall, and unlocked the bolt. She scanned the inventory, hoping for inspiration to strike. Adder's Fang, Wolfsbane, Mugwort, Bilberry Bark, Mullein, Orris Root, Belladonna, Bergamot — vial after vial of herbs and mixtures, potions and salves, gathered and concocted over the years, all organized meticulously in the wooden chest. But Agrippine still could not think of the perfect spell to test her stepdaughter's tolerance to her magical powers.

  "I don't want to kill her," she said. "Not yet at least. She may be useful in the future and I will wait until I am further advised to take such an action. But illness? Yes, something violent enough to measure my power, but an ailment from which she will heal and something that the source of which will go undetected. Something she could have picked up from anywhere. Playing outside with the barn animals, running around in the gardens as she does in the evening. Yes, a little illness will do just fine."

  Agrippine went to work pulling various ingredients from the chest and setting them on its smooth surface, which she would use as a workstation. She withdrew a marble mortar and pestle from the chest and an amulet that hung from the inside of the cabinet's door. She made short work of the simple spell and concocted a mixture that she would hide in Genevieve's morning meal. The potion was strong enough that Agrippine was certain she would know before lunchtime if the desired effect were achieved. She put away all of the materials, except for the mirror and the dagger, and cleaned meticulously, ensuring she didn't leave anything out in the open or out of place.

  The dagger and the mirror. Her only link back to the secret life of magic and mystery that she cherished with her mother. Agrippine crossed the room to sit in her chair and surveyed the objects, scrutinizing them as one would a timeless treasure. She dragged her finger along the dagger's blade and was zapped to her mother's kitchen, a memory so real, so tangible, it was as if Agrippine was reliving it.

  "Yes, my darling," her mother said. "Very good." Her mother’s voice was soothing. Agrippine could hear it like an echo in the back of
her mind. "All right, this next bit of magic is much more difficult than anything we've done before. It calls for great sacrifice and focus. This, my love, is what I've been waiting to teach you. This, Agrippine, is how you will survive."

  "I don't understand what you mean, Mother."

  "Come, hold this." She handed Agrippine a cheesecloth pouch — a dense, weighted orb, saturated in blood. "Sometimes in this life we are not given what we need, so instead, we must take it. You want food? Warm clothing? A place to sleep? These things are easy to steal. But what about beauty, strength, youth? These things are not so easy to take from others, unless you know how."

  Her mother walked over to a small worktable and picked up the dagger. "Fresh blood. You understand? It is essential. You should always try to draw the blood from the heart. Of course, it is best to consume the organ in its entirety for the strongest concentration of the gift, but if that cannot happen, blood set upon this dagger will do the trick. You are to drink the blood from the blade fresh off the kill."

  Agrippine's hands were shaky, burdened by the heart she knew she was now holding. Whose was it? Did she even want to know? The slick blood on her hands made her want to throw the organ to the floor and dash out the front door. She wasn't made for this, didn't know if she could…

  "When I tell you to, pour the contents of the pouch into this kettle, and I'll stir," her mother said. "I want you to recite the words aloud with me as we proceed."

  In the kettle, a thin smoky liquid swirled and darkened with every turn of the ladle. Her mother continued to stir and toss more ingredients into the pot. "Okay, Agrippine, now."

  Agrippine followed instructions, in spite of her shaking hands and racing heart. She and her mother recited the spell together as Agrippine turned the cheesecloth over, the blood tainting her pale hands crimson, and watched the thick blob of muscle and veins plop into the liquid below.

  Her mother chanted under her breath, "It was a sacrifice, Caius. Consider your death a sacrifice for your family. It'll be the only worthwhile thing you've ever given us. Forgive me."

  For dinner that evening, Agrippine and her mother feasted on the concoction they had cooked. And it was only a matter of minutes before the two of them began to change.

  Caius. Her stepfather. Agrippine had not thought of him since that day. The day they stole his intelligence. He was not a handsome fellow, nothing like her father. But he was the smartest man Agrippine had ever known. She didn't see him much throughout her childhood, having spent most of her days at the castle thanks to the arrangement of her mother. Agrippine wondered every day how her life would have been different if her mother had not sent her to live with her father. Of course, she did it for Agrippine's benefit. Her mother could never provide what the king could. But would she have been happier with her mother and Caius living in squalor and having nothing?

  Agrippine shook the thought from her head. The past was past, and it did no good to wish for it to have gone differently. She looked at the blade again, and like lightning, the dozens of rituals she'd performed, the sacrifices she'd made, flashed in the reflection of the blade like the whirring of ghosts. She rose from her seat and picked up the mirror to survey her reflection. Now strong, beautiful, confident, and more cunning than ever, she smiled. They had served their purpose.

  All of them.

  Every last one.

  Agrippine's attention snapped to the present. She tucked away her two most precious treasures and kissed the mirror before placing it in its box.

  "Goodnight, Mother."

  With utmost care, she placed the small vial of the potion on her nightstand. "Tomorrow, we shall see."

  6

  "How's she been feeling?" Genevieve barely looked up at the sound of Oliver's voice approaching. She'd grown accustomed to having him join her while she spent time with Belle in the afternoon. He served his daily duties on the grounds, while Genevieve, unbeknownst to him, sat with her tutors in study. When he would ask where and how she spent her days, she always responded with a vague answer or a quick dismissal.

  "She seems better, more active." Genevieve continued to brush Belle's coat in long strokes. "I took her for a long walk around the grounds today, and she seemed less fatigued than she has in a while."

  "She looks better. The fact that she's been standing more than lying down is already a vast improvement. Do you need help with her grooming?" Before Genevieve could answer, Oliver picked up a hoof pick, leaned his shoulder into the horse's flank, and lifted her back leg to dislodge the dirt from her hooves. He never missed a beat of the conversation. "How was your day? Another magical day in the castle?" His sarcasm was thick and sat in the air like a dense fog.

  Genevieve stopped combing and cast a glance over her shoulder. "Shhh. Someone may hear you one of these days and think of the trouble you'll be in then."

  He shrugged and let out a "pfft" of dismissal. "Trouble, shmubble. What'll they do to a poor stable boy who only hints at displeasure with the state of the kingdom?"

  "With Agrippine as Queen, you know exactly what she'll do. You'd be lucky to be put in the stocks, but for treasonous talk like that against the kingdom, she'll have you put to death. She'll torture your family, she'd take out her wrath on everyone you love. You don't know her like I do. Umm… I mean, I've seen her in action, working so closely to her in the castle. I've seen the terrible things she's capable of, and I'm afraid for you when you speak like that aloud. It's dangerous."

  "Don't you think I'd already get in a heap of trouble if she found out how much time I was spending with the princess? I mean, that can't be allowed, can it? I'm just a poor stable boy."

  Genevieve dropped the brush and cupped her hand over her mouth. "You knew? How long have you known?"

  "From the first day I met you. Just because I'm poor doesn't mean I'm stupid." He looked at her, his bitterness melting to give way to hurt. "Why did you lie to me?"

  A wave of heat washed over her body and swept up her neck to her face. "Wait, you knew all this time?"

  He nodded.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" she said. "You spoke to me so… informally. You addressed me like…an equal. It's been weeks and all this time you knew?" Genevieve didn't know if she was offended, shocked, or intrigued.

  "Yeah. Oh, I mean, yesssss, Your Highness," he said as he dipped into an impossibly low bow.

  Genevieve shot him a look that read, "C'mon, don't be like that," but there was really nothing she could say.

  Oliver lowered his shoulders and sighed, relenting a little in his sarcasm. "So, why did you lie to me? Why didn't you tell me the truth when we met?"

  Genevieve bent to pick up the brush she'd dropped and placed it in the bucket before taking a seat on a bench against the stable wall. She swung her legs, like a child, and kept her gaze on her hands folded neatly in her lap. "I don't know why I lied. I…I've never lied before. But I was afraid if I told you who I was you wouldn't want to spend time with me any more. The way you speak about my stepmother and my father, so hateful. I could only imagine you'd think the same of me. And even more than that, I enjoyed having an equal, someone who wasn't afraid to argue back. It was nice, and for the first time, I didn't feel so lonely."

  Oliver sat beside her on the bench, and he took one of her hands in his own. "Listen, it was wrong of me to not tell you that I knew who you were…well, are. I guess that was sort of a lie as well, and I'm sorry. I like having you as a friend and was scared if I acknowledged the truth we'd be forced to recognize that we can't spend time together anymore."

  Genevieve barely heard what he said. She was too busy focusing on the feeling of his hand holding hers.

  "So, what do we do?" Oliver said. He released her hand and nervously wiped his hands down the thighs of his pants.

  "Well, I won't tell if you won't." Genevieve looked at him to gauge his reaction.

  Oliver looked surprised. ”You'd be okay to keep meeting? You know we'd get into trouble if we were found. You'd be all right with that?"<
br />
  She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

  "Didn't you just say that you aren't afraid of getting into trouble?"

  "I'm not. But I'm afraid for you. I don't want you to be punished. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you were somehow punished because of me."

  The answer made her smile. "Okay, well, there's only one thing to do then, I guess."

  "What is that?"

  "Make sure not to get caught."

  "Please Father, don't leave. Not again." Genevieve pleaded with the king, her hand wrapped in his much larger one.

  "My love, I won't be gone for long. I have to attend to business beyond the kingdom." He knelt down to look her in the eye when he spoke.

  "I know, but you just returned. I want you to stay for a bit. Please."

  "Snow, you know-"

  "Or I can come with you this time, perhaps?"

  "This cannot be. The trip is not safe for a young woman. Plus, you have to attend to your studies. And what would Belle do without you?"

  Genevieve smiled proudly and announced, "She's getting much better you know. It won't be long before she's made a full recovery."

  "Thanks to you," he touched his finger to the tip of her nose.

  Genevieve leaned in close to her father, burying her head near his ear. "I don't like when you leave me with her. She isn't… she doesn't…"

  The king pulled her back and gripped Genevieve lightly, but firmly, by the shoulders. "Now, Snow, enough of this, please. As if I don't feel badly enough for having to leave you. You are fine in the care of your stepmother. You need to learn to get along. Now, that is the end of it. And you always have Marnie to care for you. I won't be gone forever. In fact, I'll be home before you know it."

  Genevieve sighed deeply, knowing her case was impossible to make when he was rarely around to see how horrible Agrippine was. She'd just have to do to her best to avoid her.