The Girl in the Glass Box

by Andi Adams

  Tyne bit his lip as he listened to Sib confirm the words he didn't want to hear.

  "C'mon, let's get back to work." Sib squeezed Tyne's shoulder where his hand rested, and they continued their preparations for her vigil. A few meters in a grove behind the cottage, the brothers worked not only to construct the physical casket, but labored intensely on landscaping to create an ornate sepulcher surrounded by kaleidoscopic flowers and delicate candlelight.

  Sib noticed a small bird that seemed to remain close to the brothers as they worked. At first he found its constant presence odd, and then it made him feel peaceful, almost as if it was Genevieve watching over them.

  They put her in the first "dress" she owned, the only item they were able to find for her to wear when she'd first arrived— a bed-sheet fixed with tapestry rope. Sib knew it's what she would have wanted.

  After three full days of diligent work, the brothers were finally ready to place Genevieve in the glass case and perch it upon the altar. The evening sky set a complimentary backdrop to the ornate shrine, and the gardens around the cottage complimented the flowers used in the altar's landscape. The brothers agreed the site almost captured the beauty of the young girl.

  Sib cleared his throat. "After this initial vigil, I propose we continue to keep watch every day and night. We'll each take turns to make sure her tomb is kept safe from any harm. At least for a while. Are we agreed?" The brothers nodded.

  Sib maintained control of his voice, never wavering while he gave instruction, even though his heart weighed heavily with sorrow.

  "Flic is exempt from holding watch. He's too vulnerable. If he wants to join a shift, he may, but he will not sit alone. That being said, we will rotate shifts, even during the day, which means we will take turns not going into the forest. Is this clear?"

  "Sib, I concur with all of these provisions," Eron said, "and will certainly comply with whatever schedule you think best, but can you explain the reason for all the cautionary measures? Do you think we should anticipate some trouble? Or are we simply…mourning?" His voice fell in volume as he spoke, almost as if he was embarrassed to even ask such a question. "I mean, if you feel there might be a real threat, to her, or to us, then it'd be better we know now."

  Sib rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and stroked his snowy beard before speaking. He thought carefully about the words he offered. He didn't want to frighten his brothers based on a suspicion, but he knew Eron was right. They all would be safer if they understood there was a possibility of danger.

  Sib scanned their faces in an attempt to gauge their emotional fragility. He reasoned there would never be an easy time to deliver such difficult news.

  He crossed his arms behind his back and ambled as he spoke.

  "I have reason to believe that Snow's death was not accidental. This hunch is not necessarily based on much evidence, but I just can't shake the feeling there is something amiss. After the story she told us about the queen, I can't help but think Snow was… well, murdered."

  Shock painted a look of disbelief upon each of their faces. Sib continued, "Medically, I can't figure it out, how she hasn't begun any natural processes of decomposition. Her lips are still red, and though her skin is unnaturally tinted blue, probably from lack of oxygen, she still looks… alive. Her skin remains dewy. Her hair still shines. Her body is cool, but not cold."

  Sib stopped pacing and turned to face his brothers straight on. "How can this be, unless… unless there is some sort of magic responsible for her death? Did any of you notice the residue on her lips? It came off the apple. I didn't want to say anything until I was certain, but as you were moving her to the bed after I pronounced her death, I went over to examine the apple on the floor. I thought maybe she had an allergic reaction or the apple was rotten, but there was a film on its skin, one that matched the coating on her lips. I'd bet you anything the queen hired someone to deliver this poisoned apple and Snow, being too trusting, thought nothing of the gift."

  Tyne shook his head and said, "This is a lot to take in."

  "Why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Eron said, his frustration apparent in his accusatory tone. "Maybe we could have fanned out and searched for the person who could have done this or at least looked for some clues? We could have been more helpful."

  "I didn't want to say anything until I had a better handle on what was fact and what I might have been imagining," Sib said. "And after some time, I've discovered the facts are: Snow has been dead for three days and still shows no physical changes, which leads me to believe something strange and unnatural is going on here. Snow told us her stepmother, not only has motive and resources to want her dead, but the supernatural capabilities to execute her plan. I think we all need to be aware she might come back for Snow, for us, or for both. Though I can't be certain of any of this, just be on the defensive. We might not be safe."

  After a moment, a gruff voice piped up. "I'll keep first watch." Grog lumbered forward, dutifully holding a taper.

  "Are… are you sure, Grog?" Tyne said. "For the first night, we can all stay out here, if you want."

  "No, I want to be alone."

  "All right," Sib said. "We will stay out here for a little while longer and then we will leave you to your duty."

  As the sun set in the sky behind the expanse of the memorial, the brothers brought their prayers to a close and said goodnight to Grog.

  "We are right inside if you need us," Sib said. "If you see anything suspicious or change your mind and want us to stay out here with you, just call." Grog nodded and then watched his brothers file into the cottage for the night.

  Grog sat in the grass with his legs crossed, looking up the tomb. He never anticipated the feeling of emptiness that now hollowed out his gut. He lowered his head, which swam with confusion and disbelief, and waited for exhaustion to subdue him into an agitated sleep. He spent so much time disliking the stranger in their house. She was selfish. She disrupted their routine. She just plain annoyed him, most days.

  He recalled the day she almost poisoned them to death and, much to his surprise, couldn't help but laugh. She certainly changed things, and as he reflected, realized she changed him, too. He didn't see it happen, couldn't sense the transformation, but for the first time, he recognized he possessed love for someone other than his kin.

  The cool night air chilled him to his bones and he began to shiver. He curled into the fetal position; the blades of grass tickled his bare skin. Despite the chill he couldn’t soothe, he let warm tears roll down over the bridge of his nose, not bothering to wipe them away.

  21

  Prince Alaricus Brecht repositioned his hands and tightened his grip on the leather reigns. He bent his weight in his stirrups and urged his stallion forward with a solid kick of his heels. His shoulder-length locks waved like a banner to graze his shoulders, the late morning sun beaming off the blonde-streaked tresses. His stallion, Herrschaft, inky and menacing, galloped with lightning under his hooves as the prince navigated seamlessly through the depths of the wood.

  He had done this before, hundreds of times. It was a fun game that always kept the prince entertained. The royal entourage attempted to follow him, but struggled to keep up. Herrschaft, soared over a coursing brook, his hooves kicking up dust as he landed on the opposite bank.

  The sound of his galloping gait reverberated through the space between the trees, frightening away any animals that dared wander too close. Alaricus maneuvered the horse around broad pines and towering maples with ease and held fast to the reigns in the grip of his left hand, wielding his sword in his right. As they sped through the forest, Alaricus slashed the knotted thicket of hanging vines and foliage, destroying anything that stood in his way.

  "Haha, you fools. I told you that you could never beat me. You owe me, yet again, another year of servitude!" He laughed a hearty bellow and urged his horse on ever faster.

  Through the muted mist of the covered wood, Alaricus could see daylight in the close distance. He drove Herrsch
aft forward with a thrust of his heels and took off once again. As he made his way to the edge of the clearing, an array of vibrant colors and soft candlelight that danced in the daybreak allured him to explore the scene more closely. He dismounted the horse, leaving the reigns to curl around the horn of the saddle, and advanced toward the display.

  Upon his inspection, brilliant lilies, radiant hydrangeas, and spectacular rose bushes encircled a glass case perched high upon a pedestal. Alaricus looked beyond the memorial to the humble cottage only meters from where he stood. He glanced back and forth between the two and frowned.

  For what occasion is such a shrine necessary? How absurd. Certainly this funeral display is more than is needed for a mere peasant.

  With mounting curiosity, he approached the shrine, his sword still unsheathed and at the ready. Alaricus barely acknowledged the presence of the small man who lay sleeping in the grass, and proceeded toward the case. He forged a path up to the casket, treading through the heady garden and left a path of demolished flowers in his wake. He climbed up to the small perch and inhaled the floral scent of roses. He closed his eyes and took in the heavenly aroma. When he opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat.

  He stared down in awe of the woman encased in glass. Her hair was the color of onyx, almost hued with an iridescence that reflected the sunlight overhead. Her skin was a pallid shade of a winter dusting, tinted with a touch of the morning sky. But it was her lips that captivated him— more red than the dazzling rubies in his royal crown, more delectable than a sweet summer peach.

  I understand now why this woman has been placed in a shrine, to preserve a beauty that cannot be surpassed, that cannot be paralleled. It is a beauty that should be preserved for my enjoyment and my pleasure. I must have her as my own.

  He watched her for a moment, marking the fact her breath did not rise in her chest and her lips did not part to pass an exhalation. She was certainly dead, but for how long he did not know, nor did he care. He concerned himself only with increasing his collection of beautiful things, and in his mind, this girl would be his crown jewel.

  He settled his sword in his sheath and placed his gloved hands on both sides of the case to test its weight. Though his arms were strong, the weight of the case was too great for him to manage on his own. He would have to wait for his entourage to arrive so they could lift the case and secure it in the carriage.

  He dragged his fingers through his hair when he heard a low grunt from behind. Alaricus pivoted in place to face a sour-looking man, who stood with arms crossed and brows furrowed.

  The little man tapped his foot with impatience. "What in the name of all things holy do you think you're doing?"

  Alaricus turned his head to briefly acknowledge the interruption, ignored the inquiry, and instead returned his attention to the treasure in the case.

  "AHEM!" the little man said, his voice loud enough to come from a man twice his size. "I asked you a question. What do you think you're doing?"

  The prince huffed and rolled his eyes. The dwarf's biting tone was not something to which the prince was accustomed.

  Alaricus reeled around and replied, "I don't think I'm doing anything. I am taking this case back to my palace. With me. So, aroint thee, peasant. You're annoying me."

  Alaricus dismissed the dwarf with a flippant wave of his hand, but the small fellow didn't move. His straggly peppered beard could not hide the scowl upon his face, and he stood with his hands cocked upon his hips, his foot still tapping.

  Alaricus tilted his head. "Do you have feathers in your ears, you damned guinea fowl? Did you not hear my order? Or are you just crazy enough to defy me?"

  "I guess it'd be the latter, because I heard you, you goon. And I'm not going anywhere."

  Without another word, Alaricus advanced toward the deformed man and seized him with one arm to grab him by the scruff of his neck, lifting him straight off the ground. Dangling in the air with his little legs kicking, the small man choked for breath while he fought to maintain his brusque attitude.

  "Get your… put me… I swear, you better—"

  "Better what, you pathetic weasel? What exactly do you think you can do to me? You? Hurt me? The notion alone is preposterous." Alaricus' hearty laughter echoed through the clearing.

  He threw the bearded fellow to the ground, and the dwarf bounced with a perceptible thud.

  "I will not tell you again. I want the girl in the case. I imagine, for the fuss you're making, that she belongs to you?" The prince paused, while the man struggled to gather himself after being tossed like a ragdoll. "Well, I am not an unreasonable man. I will offer you a sum of gold for her, enough for you to live…” the prince sneered in the direction of the small cottage, "more than comfortably. It is obvious you could use the money, given the fact you are dressed in rags, your house is the size of my commode, and you clearly aren't employed."

  The small man dusted himself off to stand upon his nubby deformed legs. "Of course, I'm employed, you boob. My brothers are at work, in my stead, as we speak. It was my turn to stand guard over my sister, and that is exactly what I intend to do."

  A clattering of hooves, accompanied by the rumble of the royal carriage and several palace guards, interrupted their dispute. The new arrivals positioned themselves about the entrance of the forest clearing.

  The prince called to his entourage. "Emmerich, bring me a satchel of coins." In a matter of seconds, a velvet purse jangled as it smacked the prince's palm. The guard kept his eyes lowered and backed away in silence.

  "Here," Alaricus tossed the money to the dwarf. The purse struck him directly in the chest, and the weight of it thrust him backward. The man's tiny hands fumbled to catch the sack, but without even opening it to assess the amount, he pitched it back to the prince.

  "This girl, my sister, is not for sale. You cannot have her. I don't know how to make that any clearer to you." The man labored to maintain his pride in spite of the fact he had just been knocked off balance by a bag of change. He puffed up his chest and stood as tall as he could, which still barely reached above the prince's navel. "Besides, what would you want with her anyhow? Are you depraved, to want to buy a dead girl? Explain yourself."

  "You are in no position to make demands or to question my motives, nor are you in any position to talk to me in such a familiar tone. Though I mentioned I am reasonable, my patience has its limits. I will indulge your question. However, understand the gesture of a monetary offering was simply a courtesy. Your denial of it will in no way deter me from taking what I want. Let me explain this in simple terms so that your small mind can comprehend: I always get what I want. I happen to be a collector of beautiful things — all types — and this girl would be the most prized piece of my collection, for her beauty is unlike anything I have ever seen. And she will be mine to do with what I want."

  The squat fellow's complexion inflamed, and it was evident he was holding his breath, teeming like a kettle about to blow. "I think I've heard about enough," he said through gritted teeth. "I don't care who you are and what you're used to getting. Let me explain this in simple terms so that your small mind can comprehend – you are not taking this girl from here."

  The little man's face finally reached the color of a beet, and his posture was as straight as a poker. It amused Alaricus that this insignificant peon stood his ground so fearlessly. It was all for naught, but still, he found it amusing.

  "Little man, you are entertaining indeed, but this is not up for debate. Emmerich, Steinner, the girl." The prince snapped his fingers to summon two of his attendants and gestured them to the case. "Place it in the carriage and be quick about it, I don't have all day."

  "You will take that girl over my dead body, you bigheaded troll," the little man said. "You better leave her alone or else… or else…." His anger rendered him speechless.

  "Well, that can be arranged." The broad-shouldered prince unsheathed his sword and plunged the pointed blade into the heart of the dwarf. Alaricus withdrew it just
as promptly, and the little man staggered on his clubfoot, choking on his own blood and clutching his hands to his chest.

  With every ounce of strength he could muster, he fought his final steps in the direction of the case. In spite of his effort, he only managed to stumble a few feet closer than where he had been.

  "Snow… I… I'm sorry…." The man's voice trailed off, his little body sprawled amongst the bed of mangled flowers.

  Alaricus rolled his eyes. With the girl now unguarded, he redirected his groomsmen to the case with a snap of his fingers and ordered, once again, for them to set it in the carriage. Emmerich and Steinner hurried to the case and placed their hands on the sides of the glass, their sweaty palms sliding down the smooth surface. Both fought to reposition their grip as they lifted the case off the altar and struggled to lumber down the incline. Emmerich sidled backward, treading carefully around the flowers and topiaries. The weight of the case challenged the guards and it wobbled in their grasp.

  Alaricus watched the fulfillment of his command and, as he wiped clean the blood from his sword’s blade, didn't miss the opportunity to admire his own reflection in its newfound sheen. He ran his tongue over his glossy white teeth and smiled at himself. His icy grey eyes sparkled as he admired his reflection.

  Crash! The sound of shattering glass and subsequent chaos interrupted his reverie. Alaricus snapped his head up to see the shock-filled faces of Emmerich and Steinner staring at the glass case, which lay in pieces on the ground. He moved to lunge toward the guards, but halted as the sound of violent gasping filled the air. The girl from the glass case struggled to catch her breath and color almost immediately flooded her face. Though still pale by nature, a hint of a rosy flush swelled in her cheeks, heightened by her desperate attempt to regulate her breathing.

  "What's this?" Alaricus said, his booming voice shaking the alcove. "What happened?" All of the guards were frozen in fear, apparently not knowing whether they should run to the girl's aid, or run for their lives.