The Stepsister Scheme

by Jim C. Hines

The edge of the chasm was thick with a kind of flowering willow tree. From a distance, they seemed like toys, each one identical to the next, spreading out for at least a mile on either side of the queen’s palace.

  “This way,” Talia said, steering Socks toward the trees.

  Danielle sucked icy air through her teeth as she watched. There was no gap through which the aviar could fly. The branches hung to the ground, and many stretched even further, clinging like leeches to the rough face of the cliff.

  Socks’ wings were perfectly still as he carried Talia closer to the trees. At the last instant he tucked his head, and his wings snapped back with a noise like a giant beating a rug. The aviar ripped through the branches and disappeared, with only a few falling leaves to mark his passage.

  Snow followed, ducking her head as her aviar burst through the branches, and then it was Danielle’s turn. She dug her fingers into Wind’s skin, pressing her face against the sweat-slick fur.

  Thin, flexible branches whipped her arms and head, and then Wind was galloping along hard-packed dirt, wings half-stretched as she slowed. Danielle gritted her teeth as those final steps drummed new bruises into her backside, not to mention the jarring of her bladder. “That wasn’t so bad,” she said, her voice shaky. She clamped her jaw to keep from crying out as she hoisted one leg over Wind’s back and jumped down. Her legs gave out immediately, leaving her sprawled in the dirt.

  Wind chose that moment to pass gas.

  Snow’s choker was already alight, showing where the trees had been trimmed back to form a wide, arched hallway. Purple buds tipped the branches, filling the air with the smell of nectar. Slivers of moonlight penetrated through the leaves, transforming dust in the air to floating flecks of diamond. The trees formed a kind of tunnel, the branches to either side woven as tightly as any wall.

  Talia had already slid down from Socks, giving no sign of discomfort. She tossed their bags to the ground, then reached up to help Snow from her aviar.

  “Get to the edge,” Talia said.

  “I’m on it.” Snow hurried past Danielle. She, at least, had the decency to show some stiffness in her legs.

  “You tense up when you ride,” Talia said as she helped Danielle to her feet. “You have to relax. Let your body move with the horse. Or the aviar, in this case.”

  “Thanks,” said Danielle. She grabbed one of the trees for support. The branches were harder than she expected, and the leaves drew lines of blood along her hand.

  She felt like a thousand pixies were driving tiny knives into her legs every time she moved. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to take a step, then two. By the time she found a vaguely private spot to relieve herself, she was shivering from the cold. Peeling the front of her sweat-soaked shirt from her skin sent a new wave of goose bumps down her flesh.

  “We’ve got plenty of blankets in the bags,” Talia said when she returned.

  Danielle made it halfway to the bag before Talia took pity and tossed the blanket to her.

  Wrapping the coarse material around her body, she hobbled back toward Snow, who knelt at the very edge of the chasm. The branches here at the edge were little more than a thin curtain, swaying with the breeze. “What are you doing?”

  “Watching for your stepsisters,” Snow said. She had taken off her choker. Her exposed throat appeared strangely vulnerable. She ran her fingers along the mirrors, stroking them like pets. She tapped the last mirror, and the gold wire holding it in place began to untwine.

  The mirror dropped to the ground and crept toward the edge, four wires carrying it along like a glowing insect. Snow tapped it again, and the mirror returned to her palm. She blew a puff of air, extinguishing its light like a candle flame.

  “Go,” she whispered. The mirror hopped into the branches and disappeared into the chasm.

  “Arlorran’s sculpture showed the Duchess watching from beneath the bridge,” Talia said. “Her home has to be around here somewhere.”

  Snow nodded as she freed a second mirror. This one scurried up the tree, disappearing through the leaves. “I’m sending three down to search for the Duchess. Three more will climb the trees to watch for the stepsisters. Even if I can’t find the cave myself, we’ll be able to follow Charlotte and Stacia down when they arrive.”

  Soon only a single mirror remained. Snow kept this one and reclasped the choker around her neck. The light was proportionally dimmer, but Danielle’s eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness.

  “What do we do until then?” Danielle asked.

  “We eat, and then we sleep,” said Talia. “Rather, you sleep.” She walked away and began leading the aviars down the corridor.

  “What is this place?” Danielle reached out to touch the velvety leaves.

  “The queen’s labyrinth,” said Snow. “It surrounds her palace. She likes to blind intruders and turn them loose in the maze. She waits a short time, then sends the wolves in after them. Anyone who survives is set free.”

  Danielle swallowed and backed away from the edge. She could easily imagine a helpless prisoner fleeing the howls of hungry wolves, only to stumble through that thin curtain and plummet into the chasm.

  Snow wrinkled her nose. “Come on,” she said, tugging Danielle toward their bags. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a change of clothes.”

  Up ahead, Talia snorted as she brushed down the aviars. “Snow always overpacks. She could probably dress every member of the fairy queen’s court and still have a week’s worth of outfits.”

  “I like to be prepared, that’s all,” Snow said.

  Talia dropped her brush and walked back to snatch something blue and satiny from one of the bags. “Prepared for what? You think they’re holding Armand prisoner at a fancy dress ball?”

  Snow snatched the blue garment away and stuck out her tongue. She dug through the bags and tossed Danielle a fresh shirt and trousers, along with clean undergarments. The drawers were lacier than she would have liked, and the chemise had frilly ribbons at the neck, but at least they were clean and dry. On Danielle, the clothes were tight at the waist and loose in the chest, but they would do.

  Snow glanced at Talia, who had gone back to brushing the aviars. Dragging Danielle away, she lowered her voice and said, “I’ve got another undershirt that’s nothing but lace, if you want to borrow it for when we save Armand. Men love that sort of thing.”

  Danielle’s cheeks grew warm.

  “So what was it like when the two of you first met?” Snow grabbed a shell-inlaid comb and began to work the tangles from her hair.

  “Strange,” Danielle admitted. She sat down and stretched out her legs, biting her lip to keep from crying out. The first night when she snuck away to attend the ball, Danielle never dreamed of catching the prince’s eye. Simply escaping her stepmother’s home, losing herself in music and dancing and the sheer, spoiled luxury of the ball had been all she ever wanted. “I didn’t even recognize him at first. He seemed so young. I thought he was somebody’s son, a minor noble, maybe.” Only when she saw everyone else falling back to give them space had she figured out who her dancing partner must have been.

  “I stepped on his feet,” she admitted. “Glass slippers are not meant for dancing.”

  Snow giggled and passed the comb to Danielle, who sighed. Once again, Snow looked absolutely perfect. The sweaty strands of hair hanging in front of her face only made her more attractive. Danielle ran a hand through her own hair. She would be lucky if she didn’t rip half of it out trying to fix the snarls.

  “I thought my Roland was so old when I first saw him,” Snow said. “So old, and so hairy. His hair was thick as a sheepdog’s, all black, except for a few strands of gray. The gray ones used to bother him so. He’d pluck them out when he noticed them, but we were always finding more scattered across his back and . . . other places.”

  “Who was Roland?” Danielle asked.

  “The man my mother hired to cut out my heart,” Snow said, still smiling wistfully.

&nbs
p; “But he didn’t?” Danielle knew the question was a particularly stupid one the instant it left her mouth.

  Snow giggled again. “I was young, but already woman enough for him to notice. He took me away to the woods to protect me. I learned to hunt and cook for myself, and I practiced my magic when he was away. We practiced a different kind of magic when he returned.”

  Her smile faltered slightly. “It was almost a year later when my mother found us. She arrived disguised as an old woman. One bite of that poisoned apple and I knew, but it was too late. She was already casting her spell, trapping me in a crystal coffin. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe.”

  “I’m sorry.” Not knowing what else to do, Danielle reached out and squeezed Snow’s hand.

  “I heard everything, though. She gave Roland a choice. Finish the job he’d been paid to do, or suffer the same fate. He tried to fight, but she was too strong. Finally, he took his knife and opened my coffin. He could have saved himself, but instead he chose to free me. By the time I recovered enough to fight my mother, she had already killed him.”

  Snow pointed to the branches overhead. “This place reminds me of our cottage. Deep in the woods, away from the troubles of the world, safe from—”

  “This is the fairy queen’s labyrinth,” Talia said. She pressed a muffin into Danielle’s hand. “Safe is hardly the word I’d use.”

  “Don’t be such a wet blanket.” Snow swiped a muffin for herself, then tugged the waterskin from Talia’s shoulder. “The fairy queen almost never sends prisoners into the maze at night, and the creatures who patrol this place stay close to the castle. We’ll be fine.”

  Danielle took a bite of her muffin. It was dry, and the small raisins inside were hard as wood. Goat cheese had been melted over the top. Plain, simple fare, as were the strips of dried lamb meat Talia handed out next. But her stomach seemed to prefer bland these days, and it was far better than the scraps she used to receive from her stepmother. The taste reminded her of simpler times, back when her father was still alive. Back before balls and princes and stepsisters who practiced black magic.

  “The aviars are tied around the bend, munching the queen’s maze,” Talia said. “Hopefully, she won’t mind. We don’t know when the stepsisters will show up, so you should rest now, while you can.”

  Snow handed her choker to Talia. “The mirror will flash when they approach.” A few crumbs slipped down her chin as she spoke. “Wake me, and I’ll be able to see exactly where they are.”

  “If they don’t show up tonight, we’ll start searching the chasm for the Duchess in the morning,” said Talia. She drew her sword and brought Snow’s choker close, using the light to check the edge of the blade.

  “What happens if my stepsisters have more of those darklings?” Danielle asked.

  “Then we’ll probably die.” Talia flipped her sword to study the other edge. She ran a fingernail along the edge and clucked her tongue. Grabbing a small whetstone from her pocket, she sat down and began to sharpen the blade. “Get some sleep, Princess.”

  CHAPTER 10

  PERHAPS IT WAS the magic of Fairytown that twisted Danielle’s dreams into nightmares. Or it could have been the child in her womb, or the fear and anxiety of the past few days.

  In her dreams, Danielle found herself on her cot back in the attic of her old house. Her stepsisters laughed and danced around her as the shadowy form of their darkling wrapped knotted, soiled rags around Danielle’s limbs, binding her in place.

  When he finished, the darkling scrambled onto her belly, which had swollen like the hills outside of town. Producing a silver shovel, the darkling rammed the blade into her stomach and turned up a spade full of muffin, which he tossed aside. Charlotte and Stacia scrambled to gobble up the discarded raisins. Danielle tried to scream, but the darkling placed a slimy hand over her mouth. Her lips and tongue turned dry, aging and shriveling like the raisins on the floor.

  The darkling returned to her stomach, digging out more and more muffin until he stood shoulder-deep in Danielle’s belly.

  He clawed his way back out and disappeared into the darkness. Stacia and Charlotte walked around to either side of Danielle. Charlotte produced a handful of seeds, which she tossed into the hole in Danielle’s stomach. Soon an enormous cornstalk began to grow, breaking through the low roof to let the moonlight in. More darklings climbed down the cornstalk, disappearing into Danielle’s stomach as she squirmed and tried to scream, but all that emerged was a weak gasp.

  A cold hand clamped down on her mouth. “I’d prefer we not announce ourselves to all of Fairytown, if it’s all the same to you,” Talia said.

  Danielle wrenched free and scooted away until her back hit the branches. She touched her mouth, then her stomach. Her clothes were once again damp with sweat, but she was unharmed.

  “You were dreaming,” Talia said, her voice an odd mix of annoyance and envy. She wore Snow’s choker, and the lone, glowing mirror gave her face a nightmarish quality.

  Danielle looked over at Snow. Whatever noise Danielle might have made, Snow had slept right through it. She lay curled into a ball, her blanket clutched tightly around her.

  Through the branches overhead, the sky remained dark. Danielle stifled a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Several hours. Not long enough. You need your rest, Princess.”

  The thought of returning to that dream made her shudder. “What have you been doing while we slept?”

  “I finished feeding the aviars, then brushed them down. All the while trying not to inhale.” She wrinkled her nose. “Quink wasn’t kidding about Wind-breaker, there.”

  Danielle managed a weak smile.

  “I also cleaned up the mess you two left.” Talia pointed to their clothes, which hung drying from the branches a little way down the tunnel.

  “I’m sorry. I should have—”

  “You’re not a slave anymore, remember?” Talia snapped. “Stop acting like one.” She picked up Danielle’s sword and handed it to her. “Come with me.”

  Danielle managed a small smile. “If you’re trying to convince me I’m no longer a slave, shouldn’t you stop ordering me around?”

  “You’re obviously too shaken to sleep.” Talia smiled. “I can remedy that. Besides, it will be good to get your blood moving so that your body won’t be as stiff.”

  Danielle gasped when she tried to stand. She used her sword like a cane, hobbling after Talia until she reached a place where the passage split in two directions. To her right, she could see the three aviars. They slept standing up, bodies pressed together so their wings blanketed one another.

  “This way,” Talia said, leading her down the left passage. “Sit down and spread your legs apart.”

  Danielle raised an eyebrow, imagining what Snow would say if she were here. But she did as she was told, clenching her teeth at the strain on her thighs.

  “Good. Lean to one side. You need to loosen the muscles, or you’ll be completely useless in the morning.”

  Talia worked Danielle through a series of exercises, demonstrating each one with an ease that made Danielle want to punch her. Which might have been the idea.

  When they were finished, Talia bounced to her feet, drew her sword, and turned to face Danielle. Her free hand tapped the glowing mirror. “This is your target. I want to see what you can do.”

  “I can barely walk, let alone stab you.”

  “Oh, you’re not going to stab me.” Talia’s grin widened. “But I want you to try anyway.”

  Slowly, Danielle pulled her sword from its scabbard. “What about the noise?”

  “Snow can sleep through anything.” Talia folded her left hand behind her back. Her sword angled up across her body. “Bend your knees, then lunge.”

  Danielle set the sheath on the ground and tried to match Talia’s stance. The effort sent new pain tearing through her thighs, but she clenched her teeth and forced her legs to bend. She lowered the tip of her sword until it was level with the mirror
, then took a broad step forward.

  The pain in her thighs made her yelp, but she managed to shove her sword forward the way Talia had demonstrated.

  She expected Talia to step back or beat her blade aside. Instead, Talia stepped forward, twisting easily out of the way. Her fingers clamped around Danielle’s wrist. At the same time, Talia brought the tip of her own weapon up beneath Danielle’s chin, so that Danielle’s eyes crossed trying to focus.

  “Try to relax,” Talia said. She released Danielle and lowered her sword. “You’re tensing before you attack, and you draw your arm back before you lunge. You might as well scream, ‘Here I come!’”

  Danielle tried again, a smaller lunge that didn’t tear her legs as badly. This time Talia danced aside and used the flat of her blade to tap Danielle’s elbow.

  “You served food for your stepmother and stepsisters, right?” Talia asked.

  “Since I was old enough to carry a platter,” Danielle said.

  “Ever spill anything?”

  For a moment, she could hear her stepmother’s furious screams, calling her a worthless, clumsy, ugly mess of a girl, while her stepsisters laughed from the doorway. “Not if I could help it.”

  “Good.” Talia stepped back. “This is the same thing. Keep your upper body straight and still. Turn sideways, so you present less of a target. Use your hips and legs to move. Try to stay with me. And relax!”

  “Relax, she says,” Danielle muttered. Moving with slow, easy steps, Danielle did her best to keep up with Talia. Talia retreated faster, and Danielle matched her pace. The tip of her sword barely wavered.

  “Better,” Talia said again. “Now fall.”

  “What?”

  “You’re carrying the wine, and you start to stumble. Leap forward to recover your balance. And don’t spill that wine.”

  Danielle did her best to obey. She allowed her body to overbalance, then danced ahead, keeping her body straight as she thrust her sword toward Talia.

  Talia’s sword snapped against Danielle’s hard enough to knock it from her hand. Flushing, Danielle knelt to retrieve her sword.