The Blood of the Queen

by Becky Burkheart

  The Blood of the Queen

  by Becky Burkheart

  Copyright 2012 in the Short and Twisted Fairy Tales Anthology

  Copyright 2013 Becky Burkheart, Original Cover Art: by John Stepherson.

  All Rights Reserved.

  The Queen waited and watched as the stars' ever-slow dance moved them into position, and at the solstice in the seventh year of her reign, she slipped from the warmth of her bed to brave the long winter night. From atop her tower, she pricked the tip of her finger and offered three bright drops of her own blood to stain the pure white of the snow on the ground so far below. In so doing, sealing the promise that for her life, she would have a daughter, a child with the wild white beauty of the winter mountain, the heart of the blood of the ages, the immeasurable strength of the old black stone of the tower that held her and perhaps, just perhaps, the gifts needed to take back the birthright that had been stolen from them.

  The Huntsman's usually steady gaze wavered as Snow White held it with her own. Around them, the wild white beauty of the winter held the world in thrall, as if to mirror and strengthen her resolve. A single snowbird chirped in the distance.

  At long last, from afar, another answered and then another, closer. Her friends waited nearby.

  Snow White demurely lowered her lashes, the warmth of a blush spreading up her cheeks the only outward sign of her inner chaos. Her heart pounded in her ears. She focused on keeping her demeanor quiet and calm, deceptively submissive as the soft snow with its deadly chill. She'd been content to wait for her place on the throne, to wait under the stars' slow dance for her father to age and pass from this world, but a mewling prince had been born. His pretty and ambitious mother wanted the throne for her son and there were those who would support her. Snow White would not wait to suffer the plots of any who meant to clear the way for that son or any others who would be born.

  She meant to foil them by taking their own plans in hand before they could act.

  The Huntsman must play his part. He must do as she asked. The Huntsman's loyalty to her father put her constantly in his care and as a toddler she'd held his heart in her childish, pudgy hands. As they grew elegant and slender, she'd never given him release. He had never refused her.

  "Please." She whispered the plea. "Tell them I surprised the bear and it killed me before you could reach my side." Plans had been set to mangle and strew the Huntsman's body as if a bear had taken them both. Drenching the frozen ground with his fresh steaming blood would strengthen their magic, she knew. But he'd been good to her, she argued, his innocent life wasn't needed for this.

  "My Lady." His words broke through his own pleading tone and he dropped to his knees.

  She kept her gaze lowered so he wouldn't see the gleam success brought to her eyes. He would do her bidding. In his arrogance, he fought against admitting his mistake more than he fought the possibility of the cost of his life as reprisal.

  "You must." She let the tears slip out and run down her cheek. Their heat burnt tiny pinpricks in the snow.

  His whole body shook as he released a deep breath.

  "My stepmother trusts you," Snow White continued. "She'll be forced to pretend grief and anger, but you know in her heart she'll be glad the way to the throne is cleared for her newborn son. She'll accept your tale of an accident, and I'll be safely away." She dropped to her knees before him and touched his cheek. "I know I ask too much."

  He nodded acquiescence, but still hesitated.

  Snow White struggled not to hold her breath. His resolve and his sincerity must be true.

  "Where will you go?" His question an honest one although in truth he stalled for time.

  She shook her head. "It's better that you don't know."

  ~~~

  Snow White held her tongue all the long trek through the snow, following Grumpy into the softening dusk until the dwarves' cabin finally took shape through the trees. The front window's flickering glow promised comfort and respite from the world and even from her worries for a time. Sneaky met them at the door, taking her cloak as he silently ushered them in. Nappy and Doc bustled about the fire as Stinky set the table. She waited, still silent except for murmuring appreciation for the stew when it was set before her at the heavy oak table. The crowded bench comforted her with its warmth. These seven were more family to her than her father had ever been. The nannies her stepmother assigned allowed her to wander, making it easy for these dwarves to raise her in the ways her mother had intended.

  The seven took the place of both mother and father; they were her teachers, mentors and playmates. They were dedicated to seeing her fulfill her destiny and retake her mother's kingdom.

  Their forefathers had served her foremothers since time untold, and their lives, and hers, were dedicated to seeing the majesty of her motherline restored.

  The table cleared and cleaned, all gathered around the hearth facing the glowing embers of the cooling fireplace while Happy poked them back to life and nestled in another log. Their rituals had not seen a son in the stars. What else did they not see? Their careful plans had all been for naught. With a plea to the blood, she'd made one as she ran -- one that could hide her until they acted in their own time with a new plan.

  The stars could not be wrong, only their reading.

  Could one of this cadre be a traitor? As much was at stake, the unthinkable must be considered; yet she refused it. That price would be too high to pay even for all that rested in this. A betrayal or a mistake? She could not bring herself to accuse one of these who had been so true. She wouldn't warn a betrayer by speaking her suspicions aloud.

  She took a deep breath as she turned, sending up a silent plea to the blood that her suspicions be wrong.

  "It seems the mirror betrayed us." The truth always lent strength to lies, and the truth was that there was no certainty. Seven pairs of eyes focused on her. Some questioned, some doubted, others shone with confusion, but none seemed knowing or deceptive.

  "Your mother's mirror?" Happy seemed incredulous, as well they all should be at her accusation of the ancient power.

  "That doesn't seem likely." Doc let the subtle refutation drift away softly.

  Nappy yawned and Bossy elbowed him in the ribs to wake him.

  Grumpy squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. "What do you mean, Snow?"

  "Well, you're here and we're years ahead of schedule." Doc never minced words. "How are we going to handle that?" He deflected the import of why they were ahead of schedule. "What of the mirror?"

  Snow White stopped herself from shaking her head. Sneaky acted as if he only studied the fireplace; she knew better. She knew that indifferent look meant they'd talk later. "I placed the mirror where the Queen would find it in her rifling of my mother's treasures. She likely angered it. She knows nothing of its use." Out of habit, she tried to keep the anger from her voice before she remembered this was the one place it didn't matter. Sneaky pursed his lips before she could say more and so she paused.

  "The vain bitch probably asked who was the fairest of the land." Sneaky's contrived drawl worked well to fool anyone who didn't realize the keen intellect it hid.

  Excellent! Snow White nodded. Her stepmother's pious faux humility disgusted her. This would be the perfect ruse to follow what she'd started with the huntsman. Rumors of vanity and magic, along with the stresses of caring for a newborn son, would make it possible to crack that oh-so-perfect facade. Snow White's fading hope began to restore. All was not lost.

  ~~~

  Settled in the cozy chair near the hearth, Sneaky waited until the fire died to embers before he spoke, well after the other six had drifted to their rooms. "So even if you convince the people that your lily-white do-gooder stepmother is an
evil and conniving witch, you still have the matter of your half brother having legitimate claim to the throne."

  "Not to mention the problem of my father still being alive," Snow White added.

  Sneaky just nodded, watching the dance of the orange glow through the coals.

  "An accident isn't as easy as slow poison." Sneaky paused to pack his pipe and tamp down the bowl. "It has to be above suspicion."

  He was right. Hope continued to rise as the pieces fell into place. "If the blame went to the queen, only the son would be left for us to deal with."

  Sneaky turned from the fire to face her. "Exactly."

  Ideas revolved at the fringes of her mind, slowly revealing themselves bit by bit and working themselves into place. Poison and deceit, magic and these ancient family ties; she had all she needed and they still had time. Things just had to be rearranged. "Go on to bed," Snow White told him. "We'll need to start gathering materials tomorrow. The potions we're going to need require complex preparations."

  ~~~

  Snow White folded the note and handed it to Stinky. "Wake up Nappy and take Grumpy with you as well. My cloak is by the door, be sure to bloody it early in the day so it's not fresh when you arrive at the castle."

  Stinky shuffled his feet as he took the note. He seemed reluctant; could he be the traitor? Snow White mentally shook herself. She couldn't worry over every glance. If he intended to deceive them, he would show his hand in this task. If he was truly loyal to the Queen, he couldn't deliver this message without a warning.

  She must trust Grumpy to watch and deal with him as needed.

  Grumpy stumped out of the cabin, snatched the note from Stinky and broke the seal, fumbling it with his callused hands. He shook his head as he read it. "So we found you injured and need your personal things." He shrugged. "So she's likely to pack a bag and send us off. Or have us arrested as traitors. Then what?"

  "She won't." Snow White snatched the note from him and resealed it before handing it back. "She'll insist on knowing where the cabin is. Grudgingly concede, but insist she come alone or risk endangering my life. I'll be ready when she arrives."

  "Be sure you're overheard and seen with the note and cloak." Bossy handed the bag of ingredients to Nappy. "But don't get caught hiding these herbs in her storeroom."

  ~~~

  Snow White surveyed the room. The ingredients, reagents, potions and tools all tucked away, the cabin looked like nothing more than a simple abode in the woods, home to simple miners. Her stepmother, excruciatingly sweet, selflessly arrogant and infuriatingly naive, would suspect nothing. Snow White puttered about the fireplace, stirred the beginnings of that evening's stew. The aroma filled the room with pleasant homey comfort and warmth. She patted the pouch in her pocket. All was ready. Any treat her stepmother brought would easily be dusted with the powder. A second bite would send Snow White collapsing in a death-like sleep and her stepmother into a frantic guilty panic.

  A gentle rustling outside and then a soft knock on the door sounded the arrival of her father's wife, the Queen. Snow White smoothed her dress, settled her nerves and ruffled her hair before she walked across the room to crack open the door.

  Her stepmother -- pious, sympathetic -- stood clutching her basket of goodies. Perfect. Snow White loved being right. The self-righteous bitch would be easier than she'd thought. This would work. She let go the pretense she'd been holding onto, replacing it with the real confidence growing alongside the hope in her heart.

  "My Queen." Snow White curtseyed formally, knowing it would fluster her stepmother and set the stage for the upcoming drama.

  "Oh dear, no, daughter, stand …rise up." The Queen barely managed to hold onto the heavy wicker basket as she awkwardly motioned with her hands for Snow White to rise, and at the same time tried to rush forward half a step to embrace her, blocked by the half-open door.

  Snow White stood cautiously in the doorway. "My Queen," she repeated. Her weakening voice and the added subtle quiver deepened the sadness in her stepmother's eyes. "You're here." Snow White lilted her voice in surprise.

  The Queen brushed at her eyes, as though she pretended to try to hide any tears that welled up. As if she cared for her one whit more than wishing her out of the way of her son's ascent to the throne.

  Snow White glanced first one way then the other, peering around behind her stepmother. Was she alone? Were guards lurking in the woods?

  "Did you bring my brother?" Said in a sad, hopeful tone, she needed just the right touch and the right nuances to keep her stepmother off-guard.

  The Queen shook her head, no, after a hesitation. A shadow moved behind the trees, the guards were here but hidden. Perfect, they would help spread the rumors.

  "I'm alone," her stepmother said. "Will you let me in?"

  Snow White stepped back and opened the door with a submissive nod. "Come in." She motioned with her hand as she stepped back, allowing her stepmother into the dwarves' cabin.

  "Snow White, my dear," her queen breathed. "You look well." Her eyes darted furtively around and behind Snow White, taking in the simple, homely cottage. "I thought you were near death. I brought herbs and a tonic for your injuries." She motioned to the basket she carried. "And some fresh apples." The Queen would never visit without bringing a basket from the King's garden. She lived by such simple superficial rituals.

  Snow White looked away, avoiding her stepmother's gaze. "The injuries were not severe. The Huntsman," she hesitated and swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts. This had to be just right. "He panicked and ran. I… I don't understand.

  I've never seen such behavior from him." She blinked her eyes as if fighting back tears. "These dwarves found me in the woods. They took me in and have cared for me."

  It was her stepmother's turn to look away. Guilty? Deceptive?

  Snow White hesitated again. "I'm afraid," she whispered. Her stepmother leaned in, seemingly taking the bait. "I'm afraid there is danger, a conspiracy for the throne." Truth, easily believed and difficult to argue. "I fear for my life."

  The Queen slowly shook her head, trying to negate the thoughts.

  "My father must be cautious." More truth. "You must beware for my brother." Snow White pursed her mouth shut as if cutting off what more she would say. She turned sharply away and went to the hearth to stir the pot. "Did you bring my things?"

  "No, I didn't. You don't need things here. You need to return home."

  "I fear for my life. Does that not concern you?"

  The Queen hesitated too long. Did she suspect?

  "I'll stay here, at least for a time. Urge my father to seek for the truth. Who has power over the Huntsman to have him leave me in mortal danger?"

  Fear flashed across the Queens face. She swallowed anger at being denied, but was the fear for her newborn son or did she realize the bony fingers of Snow White's death would point at her?

  Snow White's heart raced as the Queen's lips twitched and pursed. Not just her life but her lifeblood, her motherline of ages untold, all they had held, and should hold again, all balanced on the simple edge of an ambitious woman's mind. Her calculated comfort of a lonely king bought her a kingdom, but she hadn't understood -- still didn't understand -- what she faced in bearing an heir.

  "No, my love, you can't stay. You need to return home."

  "I won't," Snow White answered. "I can't." She made it a sad concession. "I must stay here until things are settled." Until the kingdom was restored, until her motherline was back on the throne. Until she wore the crown as she'd been born to do.

  Her stepmother met and held her gaze, an uncharacteristically strong look for such an otherwise weak woman.

  "Bring my things. My hair is losing its shine and I lack respectable clothing.

  Please." Snow White collapsed to sitting on the bench as if in desperation. Letting her frustration at the stubborn Queen's recalcitrance show through added strength to the deception.

  Finally, the Queen acquiesced. She turned and set the basket on th
e bench beside the table then pulled back the cover from the basket. Glossy red apples from the king's orchard gleamed in the morning sun coming in the window.

  Snow White hesitated before she reached for an apple. She wrapped her hand around the packet of powder in her pocket, then rubbed the edge open with her thumb so it dusted the inside of her palm. Then she took the largest apple in both hands and rubbed it as if admiring it, polishing the dust from her hand into the apple's skin.

  The spoiled Queen seldom saw her wishes denied, but she remembered her manners. "The people love you," she argued. "You need to return to them. You need to return home. If not now, then soon. They love your father. No one would harm you."

  Snow White shook her head a quick 'no' as she bit into the apple. No, she wouldn't return home, not until she was ready. She rolled the bite of apple on her tongue. The sweetness of the powder blended well with the juicy crispness of the fruit. Just a small bite. She chewed quickly and swallowed. "They support my brother. Your son is the safe one." She took a larger bite, almost too large to chew.

  Her heart started racing and warmth flooded her cheeks. Dark blurs swirled and crowded the edges of her vision, growing and dimming the cabin. Chills swept her and sweat beaded her temples.

  Snow White forced herself to chew and swallow that second bite before she dropped the apple, grabbed her throat and gasped. She tried to rise from her bench, but staggered and fell, choking.

  "You…" She gasped. "Poison…" How close were the guards outside? Certainly close enough to watch for their queen's safety in the cabin; close enough to hear. "You…" A touch of panic welled up as her vision faded. The herbs were safe, she knew, but she still fought as the blackness closed in on her and took her strength. The hardwood floor, polished silk smooth by the years of wear, bruised her cheek as she tried a final time to raise her head and lost control. Still conscious, she lay half beneath the rough bench, limp and silent. Her breathing slowed in stark contrast to the Queen's frantic screams. Footsteps rushed out, the door slammed shut and then silence.