Snow Whyte and the Queen of Mayhem

by Melissa Lemon

  Sweetwater Books

  An Imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc.

  Springville, Utah

  © 2012 Melissa Lemon

  All rights reserved.

  The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Cedar Fort, Inc., or any other entity.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4621-1145-9

  Published by Sweetwater Books, an imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc., 2373 W. 700 S., Springville, UT 84663

  Distributed by Cedar Fort, Inc., www.cedarfort.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Lemon, Melissa, 1980- author.

  Snow Whyte and the Queen of Mayhem / Melissa Lemon.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-4621-1145-9

  1. Snow White (Tale)--Adaptations. 2. Queens--Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3612.E473S66 2012

  813’.6--dc23

  Cover design by Brian Halley and Rebecca J. Greenwood

  Cover design © 2012 by Lyle Mortimer

  Edited and typeset by Joanna Barker

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To dreams: the kind that come in the night and leave imprints on your imagination

  Also by Melissa Lemon

  Cinder and Ella

  Many Thanks

  Thanks to my publishing company, Cedar Fort, for giving me the opportunity to write this book. Whopping thanks to JoAnn Schneider, Misty Pulsipher, and Sarah Boucher for their feedback. Special thanks to Shersta Gatica for all her help. And special, special thanks to my friends and family who supported me unfathomably during the writing and editing processes. You are awesome!

  Escape

  This is a story about a princess, and, unfortunately, it is also about a queen. Where do I come in—a mere man without status or even means? Well, there are places along the way where I may be of importance, but for now I tell the story simply because I am the only one who can. And since this story is about a princess, we may as well begin at the start of her life.

  The princess of Mayhem came into the world. What a perfectly round head—such a beauty from the first day. The king held her for the first time while the queen looked on. Some may know how a woman loses her mind after having a baby, but an evil woman—well, that is something entirely different. When the queen saw the glow in the king’s eyes as he held the new babe (crying in the deafening way that babies do) she was overwhelmed with jealousy. Any love she had feigned for the child during pregnancy vanished and was replaced with hate as quickly as a candle is doused by the closing in of two fingertips.

  This failed to surprise me; Queen Radiance and I had a longer history than even the royal couple. I knew her true nature. But while King Fredrick had been fooled long enough to marry the queen, his keen observation (not to mention his obvious adoration for the child) prevented the queen’s feelings from going unnoticed. I watched him watching her. The queen refused to nurse the babe. In secret, she paid the baby’s wet nurse double to skip feedings. And, to my astonishment and horror, the queen attempted much worse.

  I listened to the conversation in the queen’s private bedchamber.

  “I’ll be taking the baby out for a walk when her feeding is over,” the queen said to the baby’s nurse.

  “Are you sure, Queen Radiance?” the nurse asked cagily.

  “Of course I’m sure!” snapped the queen, putting on her long white gloves, a stark contrast to her dark hair and even darker eyes. “Bring her to me when you’ve finished.”

  I panicked. I couldn’t think of a way to prevent the queen from taking the child out. Trapped inside my tiny prison, I paced, sweat trickling down my skin as I waited to learn what evil plans lurked inside the queen’s mind.

  Luckily, the king walked the garden that day. He strolled through a grove opposite the neatly trimmed waist-high hedges that grew around a large, oval garden pond. The queen entered the garden, and Fredrick caught sight of her just as she reached the edge of the water. He watched in astonishment as she bent down, letting the infant slip from her hands. The queen watched with curious eyes as the princess began to sink.

  “What are you doing?” the king cried, dashing to the pond.

  King Fredrick snatched the child from the water. In haste, he grabbed her ankle and yanked. The baby flailed her arms, spewing water and gasping for breath. King Fredrick placed the child over his shoulder and smacked her back over and over until a distressed but steady cry came from her mouth.

  “Oh, thank heavens,” said the queen, forcing a concerned look.

  The king glared at her as he loosened the single button of his velvet cloak and draped it around the princess, who by now had calmed a bit.

  “How dare you,” the king said to his wife with a look of disgusted contempt. I’d never seen his usually pleasant face so wrinkled with anger and worry. His green eyes shone bright as he continued speaking to his wife. “I’ve watched you these past months—killing innocent people, your own subjects! And now this!”

  “They’re not actually innocent, are they? They break laws.”

  “The ridiculous laws you invent! You are selfish! Cruel! And mark my words, someday you’ll pay for it.” I could actually see spray coming from his mouth as he spat the words with gusto into her face. “Your tyranny will only bring about your destruction. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you kill my daughter.” He stormed away.

  “Remember, Fredrick!” the queen called, halting her husband’s footsteps. “Remember that you are nothing without me. Nothing but a commoner, a servant to me and my throne. And you’ve seen what I do to disloyal servants.”

  King Fredrick swiveled to look at his dangerous and beautiful wife before carrying the child inside and arranging to sleep in the room next to the nursery.

  She was, of course, correct. King Fredrick ruled merely as the husband of the queen. According to Mayhem law, one had to be a direct bloodline descendant from the previous king or queen in order to rule. Though a cousin, and her betrothed from their childhood, he could not claim legal right to the throne except as her husband, and the queen shared her power with no one—a tradition that had begun with her father, who stripped his entire family of their nobility and forced them into poverty and servitude, so that he alone had absolute power. The queen had followed in her father’s footsteps, ruling cruelly and with complete domination. Despite all of this, Fredrick’s fairness and kind heart earned him loyalty from many of the surrounding servants and commoners.

  Late one night, after the horizon engulfed the sun’s light and most of the kingdom slept, one of these servants woke the king and told him the queen’s plan to send him on a hunting expedition the following day. “I believe she means to have you murdered while you are away. You . . . or the child. Perhaps even both of you.”

  King Fredrick threw back his covers, used the servant’s candle to light his own, and went into the nursery for the babe.

  “I’ll need you to get me some clothes,” the king whispered to the servant, gazing down on the child. “I want to look like
a beggar. I want to be unrecognizable. To anyone.”

  “I only came to warn you,” the servant said, backing away. “I can’t help you escape. I’ll be killed.”

  The king looked at the servant with pleading eyes behind the soft glow of the candle. “Only the clothes. That is all I ask. Please. For the princess.”

  The servant finally nodded and slipped noiselessly from the room. In his absence, King Fredrick labored to swathe the precious child without waking her. She always wore such sweet pursed lips while she slept, and her fine baby hair stuck straight up. The king quickly packed a small sack of clothing and blankets. He left so many of her beautiful things behind—gifts from the castle servants, the king’s own poor relatives, and the hopeful citizens of Mayhem who counted on a new princess to someday rule their kingdom better than her mother.

  The servant returned with an armful of dirty clothes from his own living quarters. “If you plan to escape tonight, you must leave now. The wet nurse will be coming soon.”

  King Fredrick changed his clothes, firmly clapped his hand on the faithful servant’s shoulder as a grateful farewell, and picked up his darling girl, strapping her in a sturdy cloth around his neck and left shoulder. He pushed it toward his back so it appeared nothing more than the ordinary sack of a peddler.

  Stepping lightly down the stone spiral staircase, the king reached the wide, arched corridor he needed to travel in order to reach the stables. Unfortunately, it also led past the servants’ quarters. He glanced in every direction, focusing his attention on the doorways that kept him hidden from nosy servants. Just as he tiptoed out into the hallway, a door creaked open. The king bowed his head and continued on, hoping to be mistaken for someone else, carrying something other than a baby. But the servant, the baby’s wet nurse, eyed him carefully as she passed in the dimness.

  Once out of her sight, the king ran for the door, the child bumping against his body as he moved. Outside the castle the wind lashed, a storm brewing all around. The king hurried across the rocky path that led to the stable entrance, his stringy, light brown hair dancing wildly in the wind. Though not as grand as Mayhem’s castle, the stables made an extravagant home for the animals. A great, open hall spread to his left and right, connecting to each animal’s stall. Fredrick rushed to the third stall on his right side and mounted a gray gelding, the queen’s own coveted horse. It is the animal I would have chosen as well; his speed was famed throughout all of Mayhem and beyond.

  The horse bolted down the stable hall, out the open doorway, and across the countless tiny rocks that created weaving paths around the castle. They streaked through the garden, catching the attention of several bewildered guards, but pressed on, leaving the castle grounds without a challenge.

  By this time, the wet nurse knew full well what had happened.

  “Your Loveliness!” she exclaimed in breathless panic as she burst through the queen’s door. The queen slept in her own private bedchamber in a solitary part of the castle; she valued her privacy above all else, and the woman had run a great distance to find her.

  “What?” the queen snapped, sitting up and yanking off her sleeping mask, the force of which simultaneously released a few curls from the long, loose braid she wore every night.

  “King Fredrick and the princess . . . they’re gone.”

  Even before she got to her window, her husband and daughter had left the road altogether and entered Fluttering Forest, the expanse of rugged terrain separating the queen from her greatest enemies, the neighboring kingdom of Mischief.

  The queen stomped about the castle in her thin, black silk nightgown, white velvet robe, and deer skin slippers. She reached the castle gate just after two of the guards from the garden, who were already giving their report to the gatekeeper.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “He escaped through the back garden gate,” one of the guards said. “We had no notice, no time to stop him.”

  “And he rode out on your horse,” the other said.

  The queen lowered her eyelids slowly until her lush, black lashes brushed across her cheeks. I knew the meaning of that particular gesture. They would lose their lives, but the queen had to keep calm long enough to take care of the more pressing situation. She dismissed the guards in order to speak privately with the gatekeeper, who doubled as Mayhem’s executioner.

  “What would you have me do, Your Loveliness?”

  “Find them. And kill them both.”

  It never ceased to amaze me how cool and unfeeling she could be, even when sentencing someone to death. She whirled around, returning to her bedchamber where she would wait to learn the fate of her family and to plan the beheadings of her inattentive guards. Perhaps they should not have told her about the horse.

  The moon glistened—bright and full—and King Fredrick frantically rode deeper and deeper into the forest, away from the royal castle of Mayhem, and toward the neighboring kingdom of Mischief.

  His first and only clue someone followed came in the form of an uneasy horse. Several miles into the forest, after the horse had stopped to rest, the gray gelding began resisting Fredrick’s commands and jerking his head one way or the other. I bit each of my fingernails down to the flesh as I watched in agonizing suspense. He needed the animal’s cooperation if he hoped to escape. The executioner was on his trail, having released the king’s bloodhounds to join in the search.

  “Easy, boy,” the king whispered roughly, then followed with several kicks to the horse’s belly. “Ya! Ya!” The steed bolted ahead, letting out a cry of unwilling submission.

  Wind howled all around them, muffling the sound of the horse’s pounding hooves. King Fredrick switched directions, taking a back trail toward the western outskirts of Mischief, while his pursuer stuck close to the road winding through the forest. It would lead to the heart of Mischief and, eventually, its royal castle. Taking this into consideration, combined with the weather and Fredrick’s lead, the executioner had little hope of finding the king, even with the dogs. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  King Fredrick rode mercilessly, stopping to let the horse rest for less than a quarter of every hour. They pressed on throughout the whole of the night and into dawn, sunrise, and full heat of day. Finally, the king reined in his horse and paused for a moment at the edge of a broad, mountainous orchard that spanned nearly a square mile. Its beauty slowed my heart; never before had I seen such open, flourishing, and green land. I longed to be there, free from the walls that surrounded me, free to take care of the princess. I would have loved nothing more.

  Soft, muffled cries came from the princess’s mouth, but the king offered nothing for her to eat. While permitting the animal to catch his breath, the king watched and listened closely for oncoming horse hooves. Other than the babe and the heavy wheezing of the horse, a warm stillness covered earth and sky; even the wind rested.

  “We’re almost there, boy,” the king muttered, adjusting his position as well as the princess’s. How uncomfortable they looked; my own legs ached, though I had only watched Fredrick ride for so long. “Just a little farther. Ya!” he yelled, whipping the reigns against the horse and sticking his boot into the gelding’s gut.

  They reached a lone, crooked house on the far end of the orchard. Fredrick slid off the horse, carefully cradling the babe, and began a weary, awkward run toward the home. He pounded his fist on the knotty birch wood door, waiting restlessly for someone to answer.

  I wondered who the house belonged to, knowing the king’s closest family members—once nobility and now impoverished—still resided in Mayhem. The door creaked open to reveal a white-haired, jovial sort of man.

  “Can I help you?” The man smiled as he spoke, but his lips soon straightened. “Fredrick? Is that you?”

  “Hello, Uncle Barney.” The king gave a slight smile. It comforted me, witnessing the king’s reaction to his pleasant and kind-looking uncle.

/>   “Fredrick, I heard you married the queen of Mayhem some time ago. Whatever on earth are you doing here?” The old man’s eyes fixed on the bundle in the king’s arms as it let out a soft cry. “And what is it that you’ve got there?”

  King Fredrick peeled the wrappings off the babe and lifted her out of the cloth sling. “This is the princess of Mayhem.”

  Fondness and apprehension mingled in the aging man’s eyes. “Surely you did not come all the way here to show me your new child.”

  “No, Uncle. I need you to take her. I am sorry to be placing this burden on you, but our lives are in danger.”

  Barney pulled Fredrick inside the house and closed the door. “Then you must both stay.”

  “No, I cannot. Please take her. I must go. I must get far away from here. Please take her. Please take care of her.” Frantic, the king forced the child into the old man’s arms. She wailed her disapproval. Fredrick looked around for a moment, taking in the open room furnished with a desk, chair, and an untidy bed that sat beneath a window. On one side of the room, a wall separated them from the kitchen, and on the other, a fireplace sat beside a narrow staircase that led to an upper room.

  The man held fast to the infant, a dazed look on his face, and managed to stutter a response. “But . . . but where are you going?”

  “Keep her safe. I’m counting on you, Uncle.” His words grew even more earnest. “Do you understand?”

  His uncle nodded.

  “Her name is Kat—” The king stopped suddenly and motioned for Barney to be silent by drawing a long finger to his lips. “Do you have animals?” he whispered. “I thought I heard something. I believe we were followed, but I thought I’d lost them long ago.”

  He had lost them, but I had no way of letting Fredrick know that. I hated to think of him leaving the child. I hated to think of what would happen to him if the queen’s executioner found him. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to see the princess dead.