Mirror, Mirror

by Jen Calonita

  Snow watched them both continue down the hall and waited till they turned into the queen’s corridor before she stepped into the light again. Then she heard movement and froze, turning around slowly. Anne had come back around the corner and was looking right at her. The two stared at one another for a moment. Snow wasn’t sure what to do, so she stood there, still as a statue. Then Anne smiled and did something surprising—she curtsied in Snow’s direction.

  “Have a good day, Princess,” she said. And then she was gone.

  Snow grabbed her cleaning supplies and disappeared before Anne could return again. As lovely as it was to be acknowledged, she knew she couldn’t respond. Not there, out in the open. Not without the queen hearing about it and punishing Snow—or worse, Anne, for “endangering the princess” with her company. She walked down the hall in the other direction, taking the stairs down two levels, past the banquet hall, the dining area, and the empty living quarters, and heading straight to the doors that led out to her mother’s garden.

  Blue. It always amazed her how blue the sky was on a cloudless day. Was it always this color, or was it just more stunning because it had been so long since she’d seen it? It had rained the last three days, forcing her to stay indoors, which was painful. The sun made her more grateful today. Her mother was very much on her mind after last night’s dream, and being in the gardens near the aviary always made her feel closer to her.

  She looked down at the stone steps beneath her feet. Moss had started to creep up the walkway and was turning the white stone green. She would start there. With a sigh, she dropped to her knees, wet her sponge, and began to scrub, humming a tune to herself as she worked. A few moments later, a group of white birds landed on the steps to watch her. “Hello there!” she said and removed some birdseed from her pocket, laying it on the steps for them to eat. When they were finished, they stayed to watch her work. She didn’t mind. It helped to have company, even if they couldn’t talk. She found herself talking to them sometimes. True, some might call her mad for conversing with animals, but who was paying attention?

  The moss began to vanish under her scrubbing, and the steps looked almost new again. Pleased, she went to the well to get a fresh bucket of water. Perhaps if she finished with this in a timely manner, she could visit the aviary. The birds followed, watching as she hoisted water from the well, and she couldn’t help smiling.

  “Do you want to hear a secret?” she asked the birds. “This is a magic wishing well. Let’s make a wish.”

  Her mother had been the one to tell her the well had the power to grant wishes. “What do you wish for?” her mother would ask, and Snow could recall closing her eyes and thinking really hard. “I wish,” she’d say . . . and then she’d ask for the thing she wanted most in the world at that moment. One time it was a pony. Other times a doll or a tiara that looked like her mother’s crown. All her wishes were granted within days of asking for them at the well. She was old enough now to know her father and mother had made her wishes come true, but still, she loved the idea of the well being magical. She hadn’t made a wish since she was a child, but the movement felt so natural she couldn’t resist doing it again now. Snow closed her eyes. “I wish . . .”

  What did she wish for?

  She no longer needed a pony or a doll. What she needed was her parents’ love, but no well could turn back time and change her fate. She had accepted her mundane, solitary life and made the best of it . . . but she couldn’t help wishing there was someone to share her days with.

  “I wish for love,” Snow announced, the statement simple and profound at the same time.

  She opened her eyes and looked into the cavernous well.

  No love—true or otherwise—was waiting at the bottom.

  One could always dream. And she was still outside, enjoying the beautiful day. It made her want to sing. She thought of her mother and hummed one of her favorite tunes—one she’d said she sang to Snow’s father when they were courting. The birds stayed near to listen to Snow’s melodic voice.

  She was so caught up in the music that she didn’t notice the boy till he was in front of her, seeming to appear from thin air.

  Stranger!

  Snow was so surprised to see a young man walking toward her that she knocked over her bucket and ran for the safety of the castle. Her heart was pounding as she rushed inside. Had this intruder come for her, as Aunt Ingrid had always warned? There is a mark on a princess’s head. Mark my word! she’d say whenever young Snow asked why she couldn’t leave the castle grounds in the early days, back when Queen Ingrid had been around more. And now a man had appeared. What should she do? Alert the guards? She could hear yelling—was he calling to her? What if someone heard him? She ran up the steps to the first landing, went to the nearest balcony, and cautiously looked out.

  The stranger was looking right at her.

  Snow did as she always did: she retreated into the shadows again.

  “Wait!” she heard him call. “Please wait. I am so happy I found you.”

  Found you? she thought. Why was he looking for her?

  She knew Aunt Ingrid said strangers couldn’t be trusted, but he appeared to be the same age as her, if not slightly older, and looked like he had a kind face. His voice wasn’t menacing, so maybe he meant her no harm. But why was he looking for her? She risked another peek from the balcony to get a better look. She inhaled sharply.

  His eyes were as blue as the blue jay that sat on her windowsill most mornings, and his hair, while a bit messy, was a lovely shade of brown. She liked how one curl fell over one of his eyes, and he had such a luminous smile that she couldn’t help blushing. His clothes were fine, indicating that he held a high station somewhere; he had on a dark red traveling cloak over a clean white dress shirt, blue pants, and a royal blue and gold vest. His brown suede boots were muddy, as if they’d been well-used, but still seemed high quality.

  It had been so long since she’d concentrated on someone else’s face. Reluctantly, she avoided eye contact. Her aunt didn’t want her to appear friendly. It opens you up to trouble! she’d say whenever she called upon Snow in the early years to scold her for eating with the cooks or bringing flowers to a servant. Maybe he wasn’t there to hurt her, but nothing would save him from Aunt Ingrid when she learned he’d climbed over the castle wall.

  “You should leave,” Snow said, forcing herself to look away from him.

  “Wait!” he called after her. “Did I frighten you?”

  Yes. Snow didn’t answer him. Instead, she hid herself behind the curtains.

  “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “Your voice is so lovely. When I heard it, I had to see who was making such beautiful music.”

  She smiled to herself. He thought her singing was beautiful?

  “Would you please come out?”

  Snow looked down at her tattered dress and hesitated. That’s when she heard her mother’s voice in her head again, another memory from long ago. They’d encountered some beggars in the village and she recalled asking her mother why they dressed so differently. You must look past appearances, Snow, she remembered her mother telling her. A person’s true worth is always found within.

  Snow did what she could with what she had, and she should be proud of that. She touched her hair to make sure it was in place and stepped out onto the balcony.

  The young man smiled, removing his feathered cap. “There you are. Are you going to come down?”

  She hesitated. “I really must go,” she said. “I have much to do.”

  “Please stay, if only for a moment,” he begged.

  Her cheeks felt warm again. No one had ever spoken to her this way before. “For a moment,” she agreed, stepping closer to the railing.

  He looked at her curiously. “You look far too young to be a queen.”

  “Oh, I’m not the queen,” she said, her fingers gripping the stone rail tightly. For some reason, he made her feel almost dizzy. “I’m just the princess.”

  “Just?” He co
cked his head to one side.

  A small brown bird with a blue head landed on her shoulder, and she handed it a seed from her pocket.

  “That’s a bearded reedling,” the young man said in surprise. “You rarely see those anywhere but in the woods. It must really like you to stay here.”

  “Yes,” said Snow, surprised at his knowledge. She hadn’t met anyone other than her mother who shared her love of birds. “This one frequents here a lot, but isn’t a permanent resident.” She motioned to the gardens, where her mother’s beautiful aviary reached high into the sky. “My mother commissioned this aviary, and when I was a child she taught me all there was to know about the species that live in our kingdom. We have many sparrows and even a few middle spotted woodpeckers,” she said, noting the small black-and-red birds on the ground.

  He turned around to look at the domed structure. “It’s beautiful. The birds must love having such a lovely cage to reside in.”

  Cage. She had never called it that before, but it’s what it was, wasn’t it? A prison. A beautiful prison, but a prison nonetheless. A lot like the one she grew up in. The thought suddenly saddened her. “Yes,” she said. “I hope they are happy here.”

  He studied her face. “I’m sure they are. You give them all they need—food, shelter, water. What’s not to love?” She didn’t reply. “It’s the perfect setting. All these winterberry bushes you have—they attract a lot of birds.” He began to look around, his boots scuffing the pebbles on the ground. Then he glanced up at her again, his eyes bright. “You know, if you wanted to see more cardinals, you could ask the palace to plant grapevines. They love sitting on those in my kingdom.”

  “I will try that,” she said pleasantly. There was something about him that reminded Snow of her mother. “Where are you from?”

  He bent down and let a bearded reedling climb onto his arm. “My kingdom borders yours in the north. I’m Henrich, by the way, but my friends call me Henri.”

  Did that mean she was a friend? She couldn’t help smiling. “I’m Snow White.”

  “Snow White,” he repeated, staring at her intently. “I hope our paths cross again. I’m here to see the queen, although I don’t have an appointment.”

  “Oh.” Snow’s face fell. “She doesn’t like being called on unannounced.”

  “Perhaps you could tell her I’m here, then?” he asked. She opened her mouth to protest. “It’s important I talk to her. My father, the king, asked me to, and I don’t want to let him down.” His face fell slightly.

  “May I be so bold as to ask what for?” Snow couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she didn’t want him to leave yet. Having an actual conversation with another person was so much nicer than she remembered. She’d had no idea how much she craved such contact.

  “Your kingdom is known for its diamonds and good farming, and ours is known for raising sheep. We’ve always had a robust trade between the two kingdoms that we both benefited from,” Henri explained. “But the past few years the queen has taxed us heavily when we want to buy crops, and keeps cutting our profits on wool. Recently, she stopped taking orders. We’ve heard she’s started looking elsewhere to trade. I wanted to appeal to her to keep the original agreement we had with King Georg.”

  Snow felt a pang hearing her father’s name. “I’m not sure she’s going to honor that agreement, especially if you bring up the former king,” Snow said thoughtfully. “But perhaps you could offer her something more in return. Something that lets her know that trading with your kingdom is something she couldn’t possibly refuse. Is there another export you have that would be worthy to her?”

  Henri paused for a moment. “We have a lot of cattle. We’d certainly be willing to trade some of our stock.” He looked at her. “You’re very wise, Snow White.”

  She looked down at her clogs. “I like figuring out things and keeping my mind busy.” She glanced up at him again. “I’m not sure I have much pull with Queen Ingrid, but at least now you know what you can offer her.”

  Henrich’s grin lit up like a thousand fireflies. “I’m indebted to you, Princess.” She suddenly noticed he looked very tired. She wondered how long he had been traveling. In the distance, she heard the village clock chime. How long had they been talking? She needed to leave before the queen learned what she was doing. “I should go, and you should, too, I’m afraid.”

  “Yes,” Henri agreed, placing his cap back on his head and bowing to her. “Perhaps I will try to make an appointment. Thank you again for your help.” He looked back at the wishing well where he had first seen her. “May I take a drink before I go?”

  “Of course,” she said, and she watched as he walked to the well and filled a canteen from his pocket. With a final nod, he headed back to the wall. He grabbed on to some hanging vines and gave them a tug to see if they would hold. Slowly, he began to climb. When he reached the top, he looked back at her.

  “Thank you, Snow,” Henri said. “Till we meet again?”

  “Till we meet again,” she repeated. I hope it’s soon, she thought, despite herself. I hope it is very soon.

  Snow was so busy watching Henri that she didn’t notice she was also being watched. High above, the Evil Queen looked down unhappily from her window.

  The queen watched the scene in the garden with disgust.

  How many times had she told that girl not to converse with anyone, especially strangers?

  And yet, there she was in that ragged dress of hers, talking to a young man. Just the sight of them together, smiling and laughing like old acquaintances, had caused the queen to dig her fingernails into the stone railing so hard she left a mark. Who was that boy and what was he doing on the castle grounds without her knowledge? It wasn’t just his intrusion that angered her. It was something else she couldn’t put her finger on yet. But she would.

  Whirling away from the window, the queen moved toward her wardrobe door. She pressed a lever on the wall, which allowed her to open a secret doorway that led to another room. She quickly closed it behind her. Once in the darkened chamber, she stepped up onto the platform at its center. Then she threw open the blue curtains that hid her most prized possession. Her private quarters were off-limits, but one could never be too careful. Yes, she had protection charms in place—ancient symbols that she had painted on the white stone walls around the artifact to keep it from being removed—but she was suspicious by nature and didn’t like to take chances. The mirror was worth protecting.

  Even though they had spent practically a lifetime together, she still marveled at the object’s beauty. With an oval silhouette, the mirror took up almost an entire wall. Its frame—made of ebony and intricately gilded—was magnificent enough, but it was the snakelike gold rope wrapped around the frame that had first drawn her eye when she’d found the mirror hidden in her master’s shop. The rope lay smooth on the lower half of the mirror, but became more erratic and vine-like near the mirror’s top, where it seemed to breathe out of two serpents’ mouths like tongues. The jewels that adorned the mirror, too, were worth more than any of the diamonds in the kingdom’s mines. If she didn’t keep the mirror hidden, some fool would stumble upon the thing and plunder the jewels for their worth, never realizing the object’s true gift. The mirror had never told her how it had come into being, but she knew every part of it was vital and irreplaceable. How much of her day did she spend in this tower room staring at those rubies that peered at her like two snake eyes? How often did she turn to the mask in the glass over all others?

  She closed her eyes, raised her arms, and heard the thunder and wind that were summoned with greater ease with each passing year. Lightning illuminated the room as she began to speak.

  “Voice in the magic mirror, come from the farthest space,” the queen began. “Through wind and darkness I summon thee. Speak! Let me see thy face.”

  The mirror began to smoke and an image began to take shape. Sometimes it came through rather smoky, or so fuzzy she felt like she was looking at it through
a distorted piece of glass. But this time, the jester-like beige mask appeared clearly—its eyes missing from its sockets, its eyebrows arched almost permanently in a curious expression, a mouth nothing more than a thin pink line. The first time she had seen the bodiless man in the mirror, she had thought him loathsome. Now his was the face she craved to see more than any other. She knew the features on the mask as well as she knew the lines on her own face . . . lines that disappeared over time, thanks to the mirror’s magic. She looked as young and vibrant as Snow on most days, and she dressed infinitely better. Her purple gown with its sewn-in cape was made of the finest silk and fit her like a well-made glove.

  “What wouldst thou know, my queen?” asked the mirror, sounding steady and strong. The mirror’s voice always had a profound effect on her, perhaps because she knew it was always right.

  There was also a smug satisfaction that came from knowing the mirror still bowed to her every whim. Despite the ritualistic exchange they had each day, it never questioned her need to hear her heart’s desire. Ever since she was a young girl, she had craved a type of beauty and wealth she had not been born into, and she never tired of hearing that she had finally achieved it. She said the familiar words: “Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

  She waited for the familiar answer. And yet . . .

  “Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But, hold, a lovely maid I see,” the mirror replied. “Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee.”

  Ingrid’s blood ran cold. She tried to remain calm, but the answer had rattled her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, the presence of a boy—much like the boy who had once captivated her sister’s heart—always made her worry. She had done everything she could to prevent this day from coming, but somehow she had always known it would. “Reveal her name,” she demanded, understanding this was only delaying the inevitable.

  “Lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, skin white as snow . . .”