Mirror, Mirror

by Jen Calonita

Looking around the lair for inspiration, her eyes landed on the dusty bookshelf in the corner of the room. A spine with simply the word Concealments caught her eye. Yes! She knew where the girl was. All she needed to do was go to the dwarfs’ cottage in disguise and take care of Snow White once and for all. But it needed to be a good disguise that could mask the beauty she had worked so hard for. Of course, it would be temporary. But it also needed to be believable.

  Pulling the book off the shelf, Ingrid flipped through it till she found just the right potion. Yes. This was the one. An old hag. Those little men had probably warned the girl not to open the door for strangers. But if Snow was anything like her mother, she’d take pity on an old woman who happened on her doorstep. She quickly read the instructions. It was a high-level spell and required only the rarest of ingredients. She’d raided her master’s shelves after his death and took whatever she thought she might need. But the things that were required for this particular potion were so rare that one use might be all she got out of each vial she had. Ingrid read over what was required for the reverse spell, and many of the ingredients were the same. Would she have enough? Where would she get more mummy’s dust? Or black of night?

  The raven cawed at the sound of thunder in the distance. The lair had a small dungeon window, which showed a world of blackness outside. Rain was coming.

  Snow White is the fairest one of all, she heard the mirror say.

  She couldn’t waste time worrying about where she’d get more ingredients to reverse the spell. She needed to use what she had before the girl appeared to claim her crown.

  Ingrid gathered each vial on the list and went to her cauldron. One by one, she repeated the steps laid out for her in the spell and dripped the ingredients into the cauldron, making sure to announce her intentions out loud. Her master always said appealing to the darkness was what bonded a spell.

  “Change my queenly clothing into a peddler’s cloak.” She dropped the powder into the bubbling cauldron that always sat full of oils, waiting for use. “Mummy dust to make me old. To shroud my clothes, the black of night. To age my voice, an old hag’s cackle. To whiten my hair, a scream of fright!” The potion was thickening and bubbling. It was beginning to turn green, as the spell book said it would. For the final touch . . . “And a thunderbolt to mix it well!” The thunder boomed almost as if on cue.

  Quickly, Ingrid scooped some of the liquid into a goblet and put the bubbling green concoction to her lips. She hesitated for half a second as she looked at the youthful hands she had spent so many years perfecting. In a moment, they would be veiny and decrepit. She wasn’t sure she could stand it.

  Snow White is the fairest one of all.

  Bracing herself, Ingrid swallowed the contents of the glass. The potion tasted like bile. It was so wretched she choked it down, then immediately wished she hadn’t. She became woozy and the room started to spin. The glass slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor as she began to choke. She couldn’t breathe. Something was very wrong. As she slipped out of consciousness, she grabbed her throat and began to sink to the floor.

  But then she felt a change stir inside her. Slowly, the hand around her throat began to wither. Her beautiful gown began to fade away, replaced with a wretched black dress like the one the farmer’s wife had always worn. Her hair grew long and scraggly, turning white from the roots to the tips. Her nose seemed to lengthen and sprout warts. She was veiny all over, and it was glorious! She was not dying. The disguise had worked! She let out a laugh. It came out like a cackle.

  “My voice! My voice!” she said, listening to the broken sound. Snow White would not suspect a thing.

  But now, what to do to the girl once she was in front of her? Her actions needed to be quick and uncomplicated, as she was working alone. Concocting a poison tonic like she had used on the girl’s mother would take days. She needed something fast. Something enticing the girl couldn’t resist. It needed to be a special sort of death for a girl so fair.

  She went to another spell book—her wrinkled, speckled hands looking like someone else’s—and turned the pages. The “sleeping death” in the form of an apple. How poetic. Katherine’s life had changed because of those Red Fire apples, and now, in turn, her daughter’s life would end because of one. She read the steps in the spell book. “ ‘One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.’ ” It was perfect.

  She sighed, frustrated that her body moved slower because of her temporary new age. Youthful was the way to be. With all the speed she could muster, she gathered the ingredients into the cauldron and let it brew. Thankfully, she had fruit on hand. She grabbed a rotting Red Fire apple and dunked it in the cauldron.

  “Dip the apple in the brew!” Ingrid proclaimed. “Let the sleeping death seep through!”

  One minute later, she pulled the apple back out of the cauldron and looked to see if the spell had done its magic. As the green potion dripped off the apple, Ingrid imagined a poison symbol appearing on it.

  “Look!” she said to the raven. “On the skin. The symbol of what lies within. Now turn red to tempt Snow White, to make her hunger for a bite!” Slowly, the apple changed shades. Ingrid laughed to herself with delight and held the perfect apple out to the raven. “Have a bite!” The bird flew away and she cackled. “It’s not for you! It’s for Snow White. When she breaks the tender peel and tastes the apple in my hand, her breath will still, her blood congeal. Then I’ll be fairest in the land!” How strange. She was suddenly talking in rhyme, just like the mirror always did. It was almost as if it were speaking through her now, though this time she was working alone. She held up her handiwork to admire it some more.

  This was an apple Katherine would have proclaimed worthy of a king. Of a princess. It was ruby red with swirls of green and shaped as perfectly as a heart. She nestled it into a basket with more apples, placing it on top so that Snow would see it first. If she left now, through the trapdoor in her dungeon floor, under the cover of darkness, she’d be at the dwarfs’ cabin near the woods by early light, just when the men left for work. Who needed the mirror to guide her? She could manage every step on her own! She was headed to the trapdoor when a sudden thought stopped her. She looked back at the raven, which had returned and was eyeing her curiously.

  “There may be an antidote.” Ingrid headed back to the dusty book and read the spell again. “Nothing must be overlooked.” She found the footnote she was looking for: The victim of the sleeping death can be revived only by Love’s First Kiss. Slamming the book closed, she cackled with delight as she picked up the basket of apples and opened the trapdoor. Well, there was no fear of that. The dwarfs would come back to think her dead. She’d be buried alive!

  Satisfied, Ingrid disappeared through the trapdoor without a trace.

  Leaving her father felt like losing a piece of her soul. After being separated for a decade, their one evening spent together felt far too short, and the future was still so uncertain. While her father didn’t know if they’d see one another again, Snow vowed that they would.

  “I’m coming back for you,” she told him, hugging him goodbye.

  Her father didn’t argue as he had earlier. “Take care of each other,” he said instead, looking at both of them.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Henri said, and Snow smiled. Even in exile, without a crown or people to call on in times of need, Henri honored him with his title. Snow had assumed he’d leave after fulfilling his promise to reunite her with her father, but Henri insisted on taking her back to the dwarfs. She didn’t protest. She enjoyed his company, and she relished the chance to spend more time with him.

  Her father placed something small in her hand and closed her fingers around it. “Take this with you,” he whispered.

  She opened her palm and looked down at a delicate blue jeweled necklace.

  “It was your mother’s,” her father said. “It was the first gift I ever gave her . . . early in our courtship, as I recall. She wore it fa
ithfully till our wedding.” He smiled at the memory. “After she died . . .” The words caught in his throat, and Snow took his hand. “I started carrying it on me in my breast pocket. It may seem silly, but it felt like I was holding a piece of her near my heart. I had it on me when Ingrid banished me here. Somehow, she didn’t know about it. It felt as if your mother had given me one last gift. I always hoped one day I’d be able to pass it on to you.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Snow’s fingers traced the etches of the stones, which were cool to the touch.

  “While I may not be able to journey with you, this necklace may still be of aid,” her father explained. “Others will recognize it. The enchantress did when she came my way once.” He smiled. “That necklace has kept me safe from harm this far and it will do the same for you.”

  She wanted to wear it, but it was too fine a piece of jewelry for the peasant she was disguised as. The jewels would stick out if they encountered others on their journey. Instead, she tucked it into her shirt pocket, like her father had done, holding her mother close to her heart. “Thank you.” She hugged him again. “Someday soon, I will wear it. When the queen is gone, and you have safely returned, and I am. . . .”

  I am what? Coronated? She paused. Would her father want the crown again when this was all over?

  Her father smiled, clearly understanding her hesitation. “Yes, my snowflower. You will wear it when you are crowned queen. My time has passed. You are this kingdom’s future. And if you rid the kingdom of the Evil Queen, as you plan to do, they will demand you become their new leader.” He clasped her hand. “I can advise you in the beginning, of course, and be there at your side, but your time has come now.”

  Your time has come. Her father’s words echoed in her ears, full of weight. Could she find the strength within herself to be a good leader? She thought about it for a moment, but she already knew the answer. Yes, she could. Her mind raced with the potential. She would return the kingdom to its time of prosperity, as it had been under her father and mother’s reign. She would right the wrongs done to the miners. She would set up new infrastructure so the agriculture would thrive once more. She would open up trade agreements with other kingdoms, like Henri’s. The possibilities were endless.

  If she could get her aunt to renounce the throne.

  The only thing that still troubled her was her father’s declaration that the Evil Queen must die. No matter how angry they both were at what she had taken from them, Snow wasn’t sure she could take a life. She suspected her mother would agree with her.

  The journey back to the dwarfs’ cottage felt much longer than the one to see her father. She was desperate to tell the men about the mirror and learn of their progress. Thankfully, she and Henri had both begun to open up more, and they talked the whole way back. She spoke about life with the dwarfs, while he regaled her with stories of Georg nursing him back to health. Apparently he’d stubbornly refused to let Henri die, waking him every hour to feed him water or broth, and talking his ear off about Snow’s childhood to keep Henri awake.

  “I think I know more about you at age seven than you do,” Henri teased.

  “Oh, do you now?” she asked, happy he couldn’t see her blushing since she sat in front of him on their steed.

  “Yes,” he said confidently. “I know you always preferred the colors blue and yellow to any other. You were excellent at hide-and-seek. You hated cold porridge, and my personal favorite—you named every horse in the royal stables and liked to put bows on them when allowed.”

  She colored some more and burst out laughing. This she did not remember! “I did not! Did I?”

  Henri laughed, too. “Apparently you did, driving the royal seamstress crazy with your requests for ribbons and bows for the royal steeds.”

  “And what of you?” Snow demanded. “It’s only fair you tell me what you were like as a child, since you know so much about me.”

  She could feel Henri’s arms around her waist as they rode through the forest. “Fair enough. Let’s see . . . I found a mouse in the castle once and tried to keep it as a pet. Kept feeding it. My mother almost passed out when she caught me giving him cheese, but I couldn’t abandon Ol’ Croxley.”

  “Croxley?” Snow found the idea quite sweet. She’d often begged to have a pet, but her mother said having an aviary full of birds was enough. “You named him Croxley?”

  “Why not?” Henri sounded indignant. “It’s not like I made him clothes and taught him how to sing. But I was always getting into mischief. One time Kristopher and I broke a castle window when we had a sword fight in the palace hall. The weapons were the guards’, but they were eating their supper and didn’t know we had gotten ahold of them. I’m not sure who got a louder talking to—us or them. Probably us, because of the window. My mother made him go easy on us that time.”

  “There were more times?” Snow asked incredulously.

  “Well, when I was ten, I stole my father’s crown and tried selling it to the highest bidder in the village square.” Henri chuckled. “I told Father I got sick of him being so busy and wanted him to give up being king so we could play.”

  “No!” Snow roared with laughter. “You didn’t.”

  “He was amused, and yet not,” Henri said. “None of my brothers ever pulled a stunt like that one. My mother called me ‘boisterous.’ Says I still am a bit strong-willed.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Snow noted. “I wish I had been more so the last few years.”

  Henri grew quiet. “You didn’t know. You can’t torture yourself, Snow.”

  “I know.” Snow tried to sound positive. “The past is done. What I need to concentrate on now is how I will change the future.”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to figure that out,” Henri said.

  He was right. She would. By the time they got back to the dwarfs’ cottage, she was already forming a plan. Her reunion with the men was a festive one. They were elated to see the pair safe and to know that the king was well. And they’d had some success talking to a couple of other miners—their friends Kurt and Fritz—who’d suggested they all travel to their hamlet to discuss plans for overthrowing the queen with the other villagers. But Happy insisted they save the details for after dinner.

  Everyone was in such a good mood that as soon as they finished eating, Bashful and Sleepy broke out their fiddles and started to play. Snow, who hadn’t danced in years, jumped up and joined Dopey on the dance floor, spinning around the small room with abandon. When Dopey was tired, Henri stood and offered her his hand. Snow hesitated for the briefest of moments, hearing Grumpy sigh, before she accepted. Her heart beat rapidly with every turn, and she struggled to maintain eye contact with Henri, her face rising in color every time he looked at her. But soon she got lost in the moment, forgetting to be nervous and just letting go. As the men struck up a new tune, Grumpy interrupted the merriment.

  “Enough celebrating! We haven’t won yet!” he bellowed. “We still have a queen to stop!” He looked at Snow and Henri. “Tell us what you learned.”

  “And how King Georg is,” Bashful added.

  Snow smiled softly, her pale cheeks glowing in the firelight. “He’s in good health.” The men appeared relieved. “Seeing him, it felt as if no time had passed, and yet, so much has. He’s missed the kingdom terribly, but is cursed to remain outside our borders.” She explained what her father had told her about the queen’s cruel trickery and then told them about the magic mirror.

  “Your mother showed you where it was in your dream?” Doc asked, rubbing his chin. “Interesting.”

  “How so?” asked Happy.

  “It’s as if she’s trying to help Snow take back what’s rightfully hers, even from the other side.”

  It was a nice idea, and Snow hoped it was true. She’d never felt closer to her mother than this past week. She’d have given anything to have her near. If this was her attempting to help, then she’d accept it gratefully. She looked at Henri. “It’s best I tell them about m
y mother, too.” He nodded sadly.

  The men were heartbroken when they heard how the Evil Queen had poisoned Katherine. If anything, the news only made them want to thwart her even more.

  “The mirror must be how she gets her dark magic,” Grumpy said. “She seems obsessed with it. If she didn’t want Snow near it, it must be quite powerful.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” Bashful said.

  “Sounds like she’s possessed by it,” added Doc.

  Possessed. Obsessed. Jealous. Her aunt was all of those things, and the mirror seemed to bring out her worst qualities, as if . . . “Doc, do you think it’s possible for a person to become one with an object?”

  “How so?” Doc asked.

  “The Evil Queen seems to have given herself over to the mirror completely,” Snow said. “Perhaps she’s even taking commands from it.”

  “Don’t you let her off the hook,” Grumpy warned. “She did this all herself!”

  “True, but she’s had help,” Snow said. “Maybe the reason she’s so attached to the mirror is because she cannot function without it. She gains her power from it and it gains power from her as well,” she guessed. “If that’s true, then one cannot survive without the other.”

  Did that mean if they destroyed the mirror they would kill the Evil Queen along with it? Snow still wrestled with the idea of rising to power because of her aunt’s death. Wouldn’t that be stooping to her level? There had to be another way.

  “Snow may be right,” Henri agreed. “I’ve heard the darkest wizards and witches put pieces of themselves in their most treasured objects.”

  “That’s why we need to steal her mirror,” Snow declared. “We’ll hold it for ransom. She’ll have no choice but to leave the castle and let my father come home in exchange.”

  “You can’t leave that thing in this world!” Grumpy sounded like Snow’s father. “It should be destroyed.”

  “But it could kill her!” said Happy.

  “So?” Grumpy countered. “Think of all the people she’s tried to kill. She tried to kill Snow!”