A Poisoned Apple

by Caryn Pinkston

  It would have been a very gloomy, very hopeless kind of evening if it wasn’t for the fact that Landon had started to tell a story he had made up himself, which eased the mood from dismal to dreamy, and Darren told a story from when he was younger that got us all laughing. The stories we told became increasingly lighthearted, and before long we were all roaring, with the exception of Snow, who was sitting to one side with a half-finished tunic on her lap and a far-off expression on her face.

  Abruptly, there came a pounding at the door, and several of my brothers and I scrambled to answer it at once. It could only be Keaton, and I was anxious to get him inside before the cold killed him. Goodness only knew how long he had been in the storm already.

  I unlatched the door and threw it open, getting hit by a sheet of rain and a blast of wind so strong that it nearly pushed me backwards. I reached forward almost blindly and took my brother by one of his arms. Jeffrey took the other arm and we yanked him inside, which seemed harder than it should have been for some reason. I heard the door slam shut, and the blinding rain stopped hammering my eyes.

  I took the opportunity to glance at Keaton to see if he was all right, but I found myself looking at the man’s chest, and I admit I jumped back when I realized that the arm I was holding didn’t belong to my brother at all, but to some full-sized stranger, Keaton himself standing off to one side. I looked up at the stranger’s face, which was clean-shaven, and I could see that he was very pale, teeth chattering. I glanced over at Keaton to see if he was also this chilled, but my brother looked just fine, and was watching with an almost bored expression. “He was lost,” Keaton explained, not sounding concerned.

  “Get this man over to the fire!” I barked. “And find some dry things to put on him!”

  My brothers scrambled to help the stranger, all but running headlong into each other as they moved about, which wasn’t very productive. I pulled the man along, and he stumbled as if his feet were numb, blinking as if he was having a hard time seeing anything.

  We nearly got him over to an armchair in front of the fire when Snow walked up to us, wearing a curious expression and holding a mug of hot tea. All at once, her expression shifted from interested to horrified, and the mug went clattering to the floor as she turned and ran for her room. As soon as I saw her face change, I tried to call her name, but in the space of time it took me to say “Snow,” she was inside her room and locking the door.

  I stood there feeling shocked for a moment, but the man I was guiding swayed, and I found I had to seat him quickly if I didn’t want him passed out on the floor. I towed him a little roughly over to the armchair, then I began to strip off his wet clothing, which was made of a rich cloth. I wanted to finish my task of saving this man’s life as efficiently as possible so I could ask Snow what had just happened.

  A couple of my brothers came to help me, and in a few moments, the man was wrapped in a heavy fur blanket, although he didn’t seem to notice what we were doing. His eyes were glazed over, and he looked as if he didn’t understand anything that what was going on.

  I gave my brothers orders not to let the man fall asleep—assuming he was, in fact, not already passed out with his eyes open—and I went over to Snow’s door and gave it a firm knocking. Her earlier reaction had me worried—she had responded to the man as if she already knew him and was afraid of him, and I needed to know if he was the one she had been hiding from. He was harmless enough now, but I did not want him in my home if he could be a danger to my sister.

  “Snow!” I called, alarmed when she didn’t open the door. “Snow, we’ve got to talk!” Just what had the girl this frightened? The longer she stayed locked in that room, the more convinced I was that I needed to know what was going on.

  “Whatever would you talk to snow for?” said a hoarse voice. I turned to look at the stranger, for a moment undecided. Should I keep trying to summon Snow, or should I press this man for answers? He didn’t look entirely lucid, and I doubted he could tell me anything just now, but it might be easier to get my answers from him than the closed door.

  As I walked up to him, my intention to give him a sharp questioning, the man blinked at me a few times, then said, in a tone nearly as groggy as before, “Snow doesn't talk much more than rain does, I should think.” With that sentence, my hopes of clearing up the issue were dashed—he was delirious.

  Suddenly, he jumped in his seat, exclaiming, “Good gracious! I’m surrounded by dwarves, and without my clothing!” He wrapped his blanket more tightly and braced his feet on the floor. I was relieved that he was becoming more alert, but I felt a flush of anger at being called a “dwarf.”

  Of course, all my brothers reacted at once, sounding as if they were having a contest to see who could take offense the loudest, and the collective sound was nearly deafening.

  I put my fingers in my mouth and gave a whistle. Brothers silenced, I stared hard at the man, who was still looking frightened. “Don’t be calling us dwarves,” I nearly growled. As it was, my compassion for him was wearing down—the more I thought about Snow’s reaction, the more sure I was that this man wasn’t altogether innocent.

  He looked around with a dazed expression. “I remember someone taking me by the arm and pulling me, but I had supposed that was an angel taking me home.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to decide if he was as alert as I had assumed. “What business do you have in the woods at this time of night?”

  The man sighed heavily. “I took an accidental detour. I wandered off by myself to think, but I was within sight of our camp, and I didn’t think there was any risk of getting lost, but then rain started pouring down so suddenly that it was as if someone had poured a bucket over me, and I couldn’t see a thing. I went in the direction I thought camp was, but I must have passed it. I don’t know how long I wandered before I found my way here, or what would have happened to me if I hadn’t.” The man shuddered.

  I studied him for a long moment. “And just what were you doing in the woods in the first place?” I was starting to feel a little sorry for him now, but I was still suspicious.

  The man gave another of those heavy sighs, as if he was slowly being crushed. “I was searching for my betrothed. She ran off into the woods and got lost about two months ago, and I’ve been looking for her ever since.”

  I felt a little jolt, but the man didn’t seem to notice my expression, and he continued with his explanation. “My men have tried to convince me to give up the search for some time now, and I’m certain she must be dead after all this time, but I couldn’t stand to go home without her.” He put his face in his hands and gave a low groan. “Oh, Rhoslyn, why did you run away from me? Was the thought of marrying me really so awful that you had to leave? I would have held you forever, and now you’re gone.”

  I stared a long moment, feeling conflicted. This man was speaking of the young lady I assumed was Snow in a respectful way that bordered on reverence, but if he wasn’t a nasty kind of suitor, why had Snow run from him just then? It didn’t make any sense. “If she had told you she didn’t want to marry you, what would you have done?” I asked, trying to work out just what about this man Snow had objected to.

  The man grimaced deeply. “I would have never loved again. If she had turned me down, I would have found some trusted friend to marry her, and I would have wished them both well, but I’m sure I would have never been the same.” He let his head hang down. “As it is, not being able to find her has broken me. I don’t know how I can ever go back to my regular duties after this.”

  I frowned. “And what if she didn’t want to be married at all, or wanted to choose for herself?” Perhaps she hadn’t liked the thought of getting married off to someone she hadn’t selected, but that still didn’t explain the horror on her face just now, or why she would run off into the woods, for that matter.

  The man rubbed a hand over his face. “With beauty like hers, she would be in danger as long as she was unwed. I’d let her choose the suitor herself, if that�
�s what she wanted, but the fact is, I have no idea what she wanted—she never said so much as one word to me.”

  I blinked rapidly a few times. The stranger had been speaking as if he had known Snow for years, but now he had just revealed that he didn’t even realize she was mute. “How long did you know her before she disappeared?”

  “Less than a day,” the man replied, as if that was a perfectly normal answer. I wanted to ask him a few questions about that statement, but before I could formulate the words, the stranger said dreamily, “It didn’t take me more than an instant to fall for her. My father tells me that I’ve always been a dreadful romantic, but I swear on my life that it was love at first sight.” He suddenly looked disgusted. “Besides that, I had to remove her from her home at once, what with how they had been treating her. Worked to the bone and nearly starved!” His tone grew angrier as he spoke until he was nearly snarling.

  I was feeling more confused and not less the longer this conversation went on. This man was clearly protective of Snow, and he genuinely seemed to want what was best for her. Did she somehow misread him? Or maybe he somehow guessed we had her, and was putting on an act for our benefit? I glanced around at my brothers, wondering if any of them had a clearer idea than I did, but they all looked as baffled as I felt.

  I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. I was a little startled to see that Snow had left her room and was standing directly behind the armchair to avoid being seen by the stranger as she listened. I studied her face for some clue as to what she thought, but her expression didn’t tell me much. I didn’t understand why she wanted to spy, but I wasn’t about to give her away.

  Realizing that things had been silent for a long time now, I felt the need to say something to the man, although he looked as if he was daydreaming and hadn’t even noticed the pause. “I don’t know why the lass left you like she did, but are you so certain she’s dead?” I realized that was a foolish thing to say, but the damage had already been done.

  The man cringed. “It’s been too long. The best I can hope for is that Rhoslyn is looking down on me now, with no hard feelings.” Snow was, in fact, looking down on him, peeking over the back of the armchair.

  There was another long silence, and I didn’t know what I should do. As it was, I only had half of the story, and I wasn’t in a position to make any kind of judgment. I looked at Snow, waiting for her to make a decision, but for a while she barely moved, and it looked as if she wasn’t going to do anything at all. Then she went into the kitchen and came back with an apple from the pantry, which I thought was curious.

  She came to stand in front of the man, pushing some of us aside gently as she went, but the man didn’t seem to notice the movement around him. His head was resting in his hands, his entire posture slumped. She reluctantly reached out and touched his shoulder. He glanced up at her, then jolted upright, face paling from astonishment. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if trying to speak. He then made a move as if to rise, but Snow placed a hand on his chest, asking him not to move, which I figured had something to do with the fact he was still dressed in only a blanket.

  After the two had stared quietly at each other for a long moment, the man started, “Rhoslyn, you have no idea—” She placed her finger in his lips in a “shush” gesture, then lifted the apple to her lips with both hands. I hadn’t the foggiest idea what she thought she was accomplishing by eating it in front of him, and I found myself watching even more intently still.

  Instead of biting into the apple, Snow pursed her lips and kissed it. I barely had time to wonder at that before the ripe apple started to crumble in her hands, and we all gasped as the apple went from full to wilted in a matter of moments. It continued to shrink and decay until it was no bigger than an inch long, a shriveled, hard little ball.

  There was a moment of silence, then there was a collective gasp. Snow’s kiss drained the life out of that apple. How was that possible?

  After a moment, the man said, his tone bewildered, “Your kisses kill?”

  Snow glanced down and nodded, looking close to tears. Under the circumstances, I wondered how she was able to keep her composure at all.

  The man took her hands in his to comfort her. “Has this always happened?” That was a fair question—if she was born that way, it could have some hefty implications. However, how a child could be born with such a burden was something I couldn’t work out.

  Snow shook her head firmly, and I thought I saw a flash of fierce resentment.

  The man took a sharp breath. “You’ve been cursed?” His tone started to become angry, his face gradually contorting into outrage.

  Snow nodded, and I felt another jolt. Snow had been cursed? I had always figured that magic and witches and things were only stories made up to explain away things people didn’t understand—such as why we somehow didn’t grow quite enough—but here was the evidence, right in front of me and sitting in Snow’s cupped hand.

  The man’s jaw clenched. “Who? Who cursed you?” That was a fair question—I knew I would be hunting down whoever had done this just as soon as my head stopped spinning.

  Snow stared at him, as if asking how he expected her to answer him. The man’s agitation became confusion, and he said, “When we met, I thought you weren’t speaking because you were afraid. Are you truly unable to utter one word?”

  Snow nodded, rolling her eyes as if she was exasperated that the man hadn’t worked that out already.

  He blinked a few times. “Well, why don’t you write me the name of whoever’s done this?” I wondered why the man thought Snow could write—as far as I knew, only people from wealthy families could—but I didn’t ask. I didn’t feel inclined to speak at all. My thoughts were so scrambled that I was sure anything I said would be an incomprehensible mess.

  Snow gave a little sigh and started to move to get the chalk and slate, but Landon handed them to her before she had moved more than a step. He had taken up a habit of finding the slate whenever he noticed Snow coming because he liked to watch her draw.

  Snow took the slate and started to draw. She sketched very quickly, but in far more detail than I had ever seen her use before, and after a minute or two, an illustration of a vain-looking woman emerged.

  The man took a sharp breath. “That’s Queen Vulpine.” He stared up at Snow, eyes wide. “Your stepmother is a witch?”

  I didn’t notice Snow’s response, although I’m sure she nodded. Queen. Stepmother, I thought in confusion. That meant Snow was the princess. I hadn’t ever once thought to question if Snow was a common girl—she had been dressed in rags when we met her, her hands were already work-hardened, and besides that, the last place someone expected to find royalty was alone in the woods.

  I felt another shock of surprise when I suddenly recalled that the man called Snow his betrothed, and it made me feel downright dizzy. This stranger must be a prince. We had both a prince and a princess under our roof, and hadn’t any idea until just then. Of course, I had noticed that his clothing was a lot nicer than ours, but I had been more focused on getting the man dry.

  “Someone get me my clothing! I’m leaving for the castle of the queen at once! I will smite her on her throne!” the prince barked.

  Landon and Jeffrey both scrambled to pull his still-wet clothing from where it hung at the fireplace. Snow grabbed the prince’s arm, whether to implore him not to go or not to stand up, I didn’t know.

  “You’re not going out there now, at this time of night, and with it still raining!” I asserted, feeling as if it was high time I took control of the situation. “You’ll be lost before you take three steps! And what makes you think the queen will be defeated so easily?”

  The prince puffed up his chest, as if offended at the suggestion that he wasn’t strong enough to do exactly what he intended, but after a moment, he deflated. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense for me to run up to the queen in that unorganized manner. Even if I could fight off the entire castle guard, we don’
t know what spells are protecting her.” He ran a hand over his face. “My princess, do you have any ideas? You know Vulpine far better than I do. What are her weaknesses?” Audric stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to scribble an answer,

  Snow gave a frustrated frown, thought a moment, then started to write something on her slate. I couldn’t read very well, but even I could see that Snow wasn’t writing words. She was writing out her alphabet in a neat, artistic script. I thought that was odd, but I didn’t ask her any questions.

  Once she had written enough to show us what she was doing, Snow erased it, wrote an “S,” then something that might have passed for either a “b” or an “h,” and her letters became progressively messier the longer she wrote. Once there was a full line of the incomprehensible markings, the prince took the slate from her with a baffled expression on his face. “How did this happen? You just demonstrated for us that you know how to write.”

  Snow looked thoroughly exasperated, as if she thought we were all missing something very obvious.

  Landon gave a start. “Are you saying that making you deadly wasn’t the only thing the curse has done?”

  Snow nodded vigorously, and the prince’s face started to turn slightly red. “So, the queen has turned you into a servant, made you unable to kiss, hindered your ability to write, and then let me take you, hoping you would later kill me. What else has she done? I suppose she also whips her servants, taxes her subjects, and feasts at every meal while the poor are left to starve.”

  Snow nodded and made a “go on” gesture with her hand, then pointed at her mouth and moved it as if she were speaking.

  The prince’s eyes widened, then his eyebrows lowered, and his fists clenched. “She made you mute so you could tell no one of her crimes.” His tone was very carefully controlled, as if he was fighting hard to hold back his anger.