“We can have someone confirm it.” Alexander’s anger had been replaced with a thoughtful expression. “If there really are royal guards stationed at his house, I mean.”
I glanced over at him and nodded, and he disappeared from the storage room. The rest of us remained behind in silence. I wanted to believe Roger. Desperately. To believe that neither Alexander nor I had suffered betrayal from someone close to us.
And that was what scared me most. I couldn’t let myself be blinded by my own wishes and desires. If I did, it could prove a fatal misstep.
Should I call my grandfather down here? Get his opinion? But something in me resisted. I appreciated his assistance and valued his counsel, even. But I needed to stand on my own two feet.
I stared at my cousin, weighing his words in my mind with the person I knew. Alexander reappeared.
“Someone has been dispatched,” he said.
“The presence of the guards isn’t my only proof,” said Roger suddenly.
I turned back to him eagerly.
“I knew you were in the capital earlier—we talked at the duke’s previous event. But Alida didn’t come for you, did she? And she hasn’t come for the duke, either. Or any of the courtiers he’s conspiring with. I haven’t given her anyone’s name.”
I bit my lip. It was true enough. And I should have thought of it. A spy in our midst could have done a lot more damage than they had so far.
“So why not? What have you told her?”
“It’s not so much what I’ve told her. Which is nothing about our plans, by the way. It’s what I can see for her.”
“Ohhhh…” I rocked backward as realization dawned. “Oh, I see.” No wonder it was my own cousin, then.
“Snow?” Alexander sounded unimpressed with being left in the dark.
“The mirror,” I said. “She needs you for the mirror. It still won’t answer to her?”
Roger nodded, and Alexander looked as if he were finally catching on.
Carter cleared his throat. “Apologies for being a bit dense, Your Majesty. But what does a mirror have to do with this?”
Roger answered for me. “The royal mirror of Eliam. Surely you’ve heard of it? The set of royal mirrors are ancient godmother gifts given to the monarchs of each of the kingdoms—passed down from generation to generation.”
“Oh, aye.” Carter frowned. “I think I’ve heard something of it. But what does it have to do with your betrayal?” He looked suspicious, as if he feared Roger was fooling me with a pretty story. But my cousin’s words made far too much sense.
“It only works for members of the royal family,” I said, “but it allows them to observe over long distances. We can watch over our own people, or we can even use it to communicate with the royal families of the other kingdoms.”
“But it only works for members of the royal family,” Roger repeated, his face giving the words added emphasis.
“It should work for Alida herself, of course,” I said. “It should have worked as soon as she married my father. Possibly even as soon as they were officially betrothed. But it never has. He always just said that magic is funny like that, and it follows its own rules. Or rather, it follows the High King’s rules, I suppose, since it originally comes from him.”
“Ha!” Roger shook his head. “I’m sure Alida loved that. You were too young to remember, but my family was visiting the castle for the wedding, and I remember when she found out it wouldn’t answer to her. She was in such an almighty rage! I wasn’t very old myself and hid for nearly a full day.”
“Apparently it always answered to my mother,” I said quietly.
Roger looked at me sadly. “Yes, it did. That’s what my parents said, anyway. But then she was a very different woman from Alida.” He paused. “I think that’s partially what made Alida so angry. She could never measure up to your mother. Not in any way. Not to the court. And here was evidence the godmothers themselves—or at least the High King they serve—felt the same way.”
“So what does all this have to do with you?” Carter gave Roger a shake, his hand still firmly keeping him in place.
“Roger is my cousin,” I explained. I looked at him. “Does it work for you then?”
He nodded unhappily. “I only wish it didn’t. I was never sure if it would or not. I’d only ever seen it once, when I snuck into your father’s rooms to take a peek at the age of ten. But a guard found me before I could actually try it out.”
“So Alida has been threatening your family to make you use the mirror for her.” I shook my head. “I never dreamed of such a thing.”
Roger sighed. “I wish I’d lied to her at the beginning and said it didn’t work for me. Because it turns out she can’t see what I do when I use it, even if she’s standing right behind me. But unfortunately I didn’t know that the first time, and I reacted visibly to the first image I saw. So then she knew.”
He ran a tired hand over his face. “I’ve been telling her as little as I can get away with, but I had to give her something. When she asked for your location specifically, I knew that if I lied, my family would pay the price.” He hung his head. “So I told her about the cottage, although it was hard to pinpoint its exact location from the mirror. I hoped that might save you. And I told her about Lestern, too.”
He looked up at me. “It was such a relief to see you that first night, and to know you were safe, after all. I’d been feeling sick for days. It wasn’t as bad with Lestern. I thought you would be safe enough there, at least.”
I wanted to yell at him, to tell him that my friends hadn’t been safe in either location. That he had nearly killed children with his information. But I restrained myself. I might not be a parent, but I thought I understood something of how they must feel. Could I blame him for exchanging the mere chance that someone else might be hurt for the life of his own babies?
Silence fell, and Roger looked between Alexander and me.
“You do believe me, Snow, don’t you?”
Slowly I nodded my head. “I do. Your story makes sense, especially given the patchy information Alida seems to possess.” A great weight had lifted off me at the knowledge that he hadn’t willingly betrayed me.
“Well then,” said Alexander slowly. “I guess the only thing left to do in that case is to decide how to proceed.”
“You need to let me go,” said Roger urgently. “The only reason I was trying to sneak out is because Alida had already summoned me up to the castle tonight. I thought I could fit in both things…” He looked over at me. “I wasn’t going to tell her about you, of course! But she’ll no doubt have me look in the mirror and ask what I see of you. I can lie for a while. Say you’re still in Lestern. But it won’t work forever.”
“No, and I don’t want your family at risk if she has an agent who can confirm I’m no longer there.” I sighed. “I left the castle in a state of lock down, so I hope that would take a little while at least.”
I turned to Alexander. “How far away are our troops? When can we face the full court?”
Alexander looked uncomfortably at Roger, but I just shrugged. “If he decides to turn against us, we’re already lost anyway.”
Alexander sighed. “Once we decided to leave, Tarver resolved to march his guards here as fast as he could. They’ll still move more slowly than us, though. So I’m expecting them three days behind.”
“That puts them only two days away.” I thought it through. “And there will be no hiding them once they’ve arrived, so we’ll have to move quickly after that.”
I looked back at Roger. “Can you tell my stepmother that you see me still alive and well? She did make an attempt against my life in Lestern, but her agent might have reported that unsuccessful, so we can’t risk your lying about it.”
Roger’s face twisted, but I hurried on before he could attempt an apology.
“But you can tell her that you see me in the midst of a great host of guards. Just marching out of Lestern. No doubt her agent has already reported a
bout the massing troops, so I don’t think we’re giving anything away there, but we’ll let her think she has more time than she really does. When we call for the court, I want it to take her by surprise.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Roger said, giving as much of a bow as he could given his constrained circumstances.
“You can let him go now, Carter,” I said.
The huntsman looked unhappy with the order, but he removed his hand, and Roger quickly stood.
“I must leave immediately.”
I gave him a sudden embrace, nearly knocking him off balance. “Thank you, Roger. And I’ll talk to the duke. See if we can’t send some of our own guards into your house disguised as servants or something. That way if the queen ever does decide to act, at least your family will have a chance.”
A light kindled in Roger’s eyes. “Would you, Snow?”
“Of course.” I stepped back and gestured for the door. “Now get going!”
Part III
The Queen
Chapter 25
The duke wasn’t exactly pleased to know we had found and dealt with the spy without his input, but he didn’t actually have any fault to find with our final decisions. I filled him in on everything that had happened as we sat alone over breakfast.
“I’ve known the baron since he was a little boy,” he said. “The Capstone lands border on Lestern. There’s no way he would side with Alida by choice.” He shook his head. “I never even considered him as our leak. But I should have thought of that mirror!”
“I didn’t think of it, either,” I said. “None of us did. I didn’t even know it would work for Roger. But there’s no point dwelling on the past. We need to focus on our plans moving forward.”
My grandfather regarded me with an approving smile.
“You’re going to make an excellent queen, Snow.”
A warmth rose up inside me. He seemed so much more confident in me than I was in myself. “Do you really think so?”
“Of course. You are your mother’s daughter.”
Ah. There it was. My mother. Did he really see and approve of me? Or was he blinded by his love for her? I put down my spoon.
“Yes, I am my mother’s daughter, though I never knew her. And my father’s, too. And your granddaughter. So tell me, Grandfather, why I never saw you before my father’s death.”
I looked across the table straight into his eyes. He shifted in his seat, more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him, but I didn’t back down. The moment of confronting my stepmother was fast approaching, and if we succeeded, I suspected the court would appoint him as my regent. This was a conversation he and I needed to have.
“That was…a mistake. I can see that now.”
He paused, but I said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“My own dear girl also lost her mother far too young. And with my wife gone, she was all I had. I doted on her, I admit. And why not? She was not only beautiful but kind and intelligent and strong.” He shook his head, and I saw moisture in his eyes. “I wish you could have known her.”
Searing pain pierced through me. How desperately I wished it too. But I forced my face to remain immobile, impassive as he told his story.
“We often visited court, and it seemed only natural that the young king himself would fall in love with her. I was so proud on the day of their wedding. So proud to see a crown on her head, as she deserved. All the kingdom rejoiced on that day.”
Pain lanced across his face. “But then a year passed. And another. And another. And my girl became so sad. Your father—to his credit—assured her that he loved her even without an heir, but she knew her duty.” He looked across at me and quickly shook his head. “No, it wasn’t about duty. It was always about love. How much she wanted a baby of her own to love.” He lowered his voice. “She always loved babies.”
My breath hitched, and it took all my strength not to break down in front of him.
“And so she made her fateful wish,” I said. “A daughter. Skin as white as snow. Lips as red as blood. Hair as black as ebony. And so she unknowingly wished her own death. If only she could have known she was killing herself.”
I had thought he would flinch away at that, turn from me, the blame finally clear on his face. But instead he looked across at me in surprise.
“Killing herself?” His keen eyes narrowed as he examined my face. “Or killed by you?”
I sucked in a gasp to hear the words put so baldly.
Concern filled his eyes. “Is that how you have thought of it all these years? My poor Snow! You are not responsible for her death.”
This time I couldn’t control the tremors that ran through me.
“I didn’t mean to, of course,” I said. “I was only a baby. But I did kill her. Do you really mean to claim that’s not what you’ve thought all these years?”
“No.” He shook his head vehemently. “No one knew my daughter like I did. She was already weakening—although with what I don’t know. Your coming may have hastened the end, but it was coming just the same. I had seen it for months before she fell pregnant, and it was eating away at me, although the doctors claimed they could find nothing wrong. Your arrival allowed her to leave this world on so much joy. She loved your father—strange as it sometimes seems to me—and she was so happy to have a part of herself to leave for him. So happy to hold you in her arms before the end.”
Tears ran down my face, and I made no effort to wipe them away. “Then how come you never came to court again after her death? How come you didn’t want to know me?”
His hand tightened around the handle of his butter knife, his eyes staring down at it unseeingly.
“I wanted to see you, Snow. I wanted desperately to see you.” He swallowed. “But I was afraid. Deathly afraid.” He looked up at me, and his haunted expression was nothing like the confident one he usually wore. “I have never told anyone this, but I was afraid that seeing you after her death would break me in a way I could not mend. I had already lost my wife and my only child. I thought I could not risk opening up my heart to you. And I could not bear to see her face looking back at me from yours. Not when I knew I would never truly see her again.”
He paused, and silence filled the breakfast room, a heavy weight upon us both.
“And then the months passed and became a year,” he said. “And I began to wonder if perhaps I was wrong. I thought of what my girl would have wanted, and I knew she would want us to be part of each other’s lives—to know one another. I began to prepare for a long overdue visit to court. And then I got the invitation.”
Rage transformed his face, and he threw the knife from him. It landed with a loud clang against an unused plate, and we both froze in shock at the jarring noise. Slowly his face calmed, the tension in the room receding.
“Gracious,” he said, “I thought such strong emotions had long faded. But it seems they are still there to be recalled.” He shook his head. “I have spent long years learning to master my emotions. You must forgive me if sometimes they still slip.”
I swallowed and licked my lips, but no words emerged. Even if I could have made my throat work, I didn’t know what to say.
My grandfather drew a deep, steadying breath. “I received the invitation to the wedding of King George and Alida. Perhaps I should even have seen it coming despite my absence from court. She came from a new branch of the nobility, poor and without power in court. But she was beautiful enough, I suppose, although nothing to your mother. And Alida had never made a secret of the fact that she believed she had been born to be queen. She pursued your father relentlessly, though he showed no great interest. When he married your mother, she left court, poisoned, no doubt by disappointment and hate.”
“But she returned,” I said, the words little more than a breath.
“Yes.” My grandfather seemed to deflate before my eyes, looking his age for the first time since I had met him. “She must have returned as soon as she heard of your mother’s death. No doubt she
hounded your father unceasingly. But still, I thought…”
His eyes grew distant before he sighed and refocused on me. “I had thought your father’s love for my daughter sincere. And I could not forgive him for marrying again so soon. For replacing her. And all my new resolve washed away. I vowed never to set foot in a court where someone else ruled at your father’s side instead of my daughter.”
His eyes seemed to bore into me. “At the last she gave him you. He had a piece of her. An heir. He did not need another wife. Especially not one he did not love, and who did not love his child. One who cared only for herself.”
He sighed. “I am an old man, and when I look back on my life, I can see my mistakes. I let my anger at him rule me, even though it meant being separated from you. I could not have one of you without the other, since he never liked being separated from you. And I could not forgive him for his weakness. But it is you and I who suffered the consequences of my unforgiveness. In hindsight, I cannot say whose mistake was greater—the king’s or mine—or how different things would be now if I had let love dictate my actions instead of bitterness. With me standing strong beside you, Alida could not have acted as she did.”
He stood up and crossed around the table to kneel in front of me. When he took my hand, his grip felt strong and warm.
“I should have put you first. Will you forgive me, Granddaughter? Will you put the past behind us and start afresh?”
I licked my lips and looked away from him. I wanted to say yes so badly. To accept his apology and his love. To bask in the knowledge that he had never blamed me for my mother’s death—that I might not have been indirectly responsible for it at all. But others of his words pricked at me.
I pulled my hand away.
“My father was a good man. A good father. A good king.”
My grandfather froze and then heaved himself into the seat beside me with a weary sigh. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again, regarding me thoughtfully instead. Several long breaths hung between us. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he considered my words.
A Dream of Ebony and White: A Retelling of Snow White (Beyond the Four Kingdoms Book 4) Page 21