The Princess and the Invisible Apple Tree

by Meredith Leigh Burton

  Barbara frowned. “There was no weapon, and—” Ice gripped her heart as realization dawned. She turned to Rachel’s vanity table. The gleaming mirror lay upon the pearl-topped surface. It seemed harmless enough, but hadn’t she once spoken with a man who seemed kind, a man who asked her if there was anything she needed? Barbara turned to Lawrence. “Who do you think is behind this?”

  Lawrence frowned. “A man whom I banished right after Snowdrop was born. He was a servant here at the palace. One night, I caught him in the nursery. He clutched Charlotte’s arm, and she was struggling to free herself from his grasp. I’ll never forget the sight of that man’s face.” Lawrence shuddered. “He was weeping, and Charlotte was as well. Later, she told me he claimed to have given her Snowdrop as a gift, that he’d heard her prayers for a child and resolved to help her.”

  Barbara trembled as she stared first at Lawrence and then at the dazzling mirror. She swallowed. “I have to be alone for a moment.”

  Lawrence nodded. “I’ll go find the girls.”

  When he had left the room, he stood still for a long moment, his mind flashing to the first time he’d seen Barbara. The day had been a particularly tiring one, for he had journeyed far. His entourage needed rest, so they had stopped at an inn. Barbara had served him cider and stew. They’d talked together, he seeking information about the inn’s customers, she supplying what answers she could.

  When Lawrence had stood to go to his room, Barbara had asked if there was anything else he needed, an inviting smile upon her face but not in her eyes. There was no denying her intention. He had declined her offer. “Is there anything you need?” he had asked.

  She laughed bitterly. “Security for my daughter and myself.”

  Lawrence had left her then, but his mind could not rid itself of the look of emptiness in her eyes. He saw Barbara daily in the dining room. A month after his arrival, he drew her aside. She smiled at him. “Changed your mind, have you?” she asked.

  He flushed and stepped away from her. “You need security, and I need someone to care for my daughter. Will you consent to come home with me?”

  Barbara frowned. “You want me as a servant?”

  He smiled. “No. Servants have no security. I propose marriage instead.”

  Barbara laughed. “You’d marry someone like me?”

  He nodded. “I’m no prize despite my royal status. It’s purely for convenience sake. I think we could help each other.”

  “I have nothing to offer you.” Even as she said this, Barbara took his hand. “But your offer is accepted.”

  Lawrence paid the innkeeper a large sum, ensuring that no trouble would arise. He hadn’t been able to become acquainted with Rachel before the wedding, for the child kept her distance from him. Yet the more time he spent with Barbara, the more he grew fond of her. Over time, the fondness blossomed into love, at least on his part. Lawrence believed that Barbara felt love for him as well, but he would not force her into an awkward situation.

  Lawrence turned from Rachel’s chamber to search for his daughters. He was surprised to find them both in Snowdrop’s room. They lay upon the bed, sound asleep. He stared at them for a long moment and smiled. He’d talk with them in the morning.

  Chapter Fourteen

  B arbara clasped her hands to stop them from trembling. Bile rose in her throat. An image of the dead man thrust itself again and again into her mind. He had lain exactly the way Thomas had. The wound was identical. Barbara lifted the mirror from Rachel’s vanity. A thrumming sensation pulsed against her fingers like the beating of a dark heart. Shaking, she gripped the applewood handle, preparing to bash the mirror against the vanity’s surface.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If the mirror breaks, your daughter dies. It’s been a long time, Barbara.” The familiar, lilting voice stole upon her. It emanated from the object she held.

  Barbara did not cry out. She had expected to hear the voice. “Is it you, Patrick?” she asked sharply.

  He laughed. “Indeed it’s me, although your daughter knows me by another name. A simple spell of connection binds my heart to this mirror. I come to your daughter when she is in need, for we have developed a special bond.”

  “I don’t care what you do to me, but if you

  hurt—”

  “Do you think you can tell me what to do?” he asked harshly. “You’ll listen to me and do as I say.” The pulsing against her fingertips intensified. “Put the mirror down.”

  Barbara clutched the handle tighter, but as badly as she wanted to break the mirror, she was frightened to do so. Patrick’s face swam into view. Although the image was wispy, his marked visage was clearly discernible. Barbara swallowed nervously. “You said you would help us. You tricked me.”

  “I think you’d best reconsider that accusation. I gave you what you wanted, success. Now you must give me what I need. You care nothing for the girl. Am I mistaken, or did you not send her into the forest yourself? And, what was the reason for that pretty errand? You didn’t want her to see you peddling your wares, did you?” He bestowed upon her a contemptuous sneer. “You practically did my work for me.”

  A knife of shame stabbed into her heart. “You demon.”

  “Call me what you will, but I granted your wish. In return, I merely sought to take what I needed. She’d have felt no pain. I require an innocent maiden’s heart.”

  Barbara shuddered. “Why?”

  “I have no choice. Do you know what it’s like to be dependent upon another’s magic? I cannot die unless an exchange is made.” For a moment, his face grew pale. Then his features hardened yet again.

  “I’ll do anything you want. Just please spare Rachel’s life.” Slowly, Barbara replaced the mirror on the vanity.

  He smiled. “That’s better. Bring the other girl to me, and Rachel will be spared.”

  Images filled Barbara’s mind. She saw the compassionate face of the servant who revealed himself to be a magician capable of granting any wish. He had admired Barbara’s newborn daughter and had been a great help as the inn was being established. “I just want Thomas to be happy,” she had said to him on that fateful day. The magician had smiled. “It will be done.” She’d never seriously believed his claims. What a fool she was! She thought of the years of terror in which she’d kept Rachel hidden. She thought of Lawrence, of how he had saved them. Could she truly repay him with evil? “I never promised Rachel to you. I will not give you another child in her place,” she said.

  Patrick shook his head. “Anytime you seek magical assistance, an exchange is required. You knew I would seek payment. I’ll have what I’m owed one way or another.” He smiled at her. The mirror’s glass shimmered, then Patrick’s face shifted, growing smooth and handsome. Gradually, it faded away.

  Barbara left the chamber. She had to concoct a plan of some sort. Her daughters’ lives depended on it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  M istress! Mistress! Please. You must come.” The desperate cry pummeled Rachel’s mind. She knew that she dreamed, yet Ayven’s cries filled her with fear.

  “Ayven, what is it?” she asked, concern for her friend tearing through her.

  “They mean to lock me away from you.”

  Rachel jerked awake, perspiration streaming down her neck. She rose from Snowdrop’s canopied bed, trying to move quietly so as not to awaken her stepsister. Outside Snowdrop’s chamber, she listened to the silence around her. It must be midnight, she thought. She tiptoed to her chamber door and was relieved to find it ajar. Hurrying inside, she scanned the room for Ayven. There he was, right where she’d left him. “I’m here.” Her voice shook, and her heart pounded.

  The glass undulated, and Ayven’s face appeared. She was shocked to see the change in her friend. His handsome features were pale, his eyes wide. “Mistress, I must leave.”

  Rachel’s stomach plummeted. “Leave? You can’t leave. I need your help.”

  “I’ve told you many times that one day I’d have to go. I just didn’
t reckon on it being this soon. Won’t you release me?” Tears streamed down his cheeks, and compassion filled her heart. Yet he gave her so much. If she let him go, she’d be alone. “What will happen to me?” She hated the selfishness of that question, but she was truly frightened. How would she survive without his comforting assurances?

  “You know that I’m imprisoned here, mistress. When we met, you told me of how you were trapped. I understood, for I’m trapped as well. You’re quite capable of caring for yourself, you know. Even so, I’ll give you a parting gift, the fulfillment of your greatest dream. You must ask me for it.”

  Rachel’s mind spun. The only dream she truly wanted fulfilled could never come true. The dead could not rise. Moreover, would the magic last? It always disappeared. Swallowing, she whispered, “Ayven, Ayven, faithful and true, I desire that people will never be cruel. Remove the face that hurts and offends,M and give me beauty without end.”

  Ayven frowned. “Mistress, have you learned nothing from my story?” He leaned closer to her. “I constantly sought to change my appearance, but nothing worked. I was trapped as a result.” He sighed. “I know I must fulfill your desire even if I hoped you would ask for something else.” He proffered a vibrant comb. Rachel gasped at the beauty of the trinket. It was carved from ebony wood and bore only one adornment. Set within the comb’s curved top was the largest, most vibrant stone she’d ever seen. The jewel was round, and it shone with multitudes of colors. “This comb is magical. All who look upon you will see your beauty.”

  For a moment, Rachel thought of another gift she’d been given and of the terror she had experienced. Yet she couldn’t refuse Ayven. He’d given her so very much. She took the comb from his hand. “I love you,” she whispered brokenly. “You’ve been like a father to me. I-I won’t stop you from leaving.”

  Ayven nodded, a strange smile crossing his features. “Did you ever think about what would happen to you when you freed me?” He shook his head with regret. “The mirror feeds on desires and will not relinquish its prey unless the trapped person finds someone to free them. I’m sorry, gentle maiden, that I must do this.” One of his finely-tapered hands reached forward, and he took the comb from her. “You will not be trapped long, and you’ll feel no pain.” He placed the comb into her unbrushed hair. As he did so, nausea exploded in her stomach. A peculiar coldness seized her, a constricting cold that bit like ice. Something pushed against her, a hard substance that drove her to the ground. Darkness closed in, and the last thing she saw was Ayven’s face. His disguise was gone, and she saw the livid mark on his left cheek.

  Chapter Sixteen

  T AP! TAP!

  Snowdrop awoke, the peculiar sound causing her to start. Where was Rachel? Drowsily, she stretched and yawned. What time was it?

  TAP! TAP!

  The sound came from her window. Snowdrop rose and tiptoed across the marble floor. She stared out the window and blinked when she saw only whiteness. The whiteness seemed to shift. She gasped as a sharp beak materialized before her. Then another white shape became visible. The tapping came again, this time more insistent.

  Two white swans, Snowdrop thought. She’d never seen the birds directly at the palace. She smiled in delight and released the catch of the window. “Good morning,” she said.

  The male swan ruffled his feathers and screeched. He swooped toward her. Snowdrop blinked in surprise and stepped away from the window.

  The female preened. She flapped her wings.

  “You both must be hungry.” Snowdrop crossed to her vanity table. Opening the bottom drawer, she groped in the back. The servants knew of her tendency to hoard sweets. They never commented upon the eccentricity, at least not where she could hear them. Ah! Here was something. Snowdrop withdrew a cloth-wrapped slice of seed cake from the drawer. She’d taken it two nights ago during supper. Returning to the window, she broke the cake in half and placed her offering upon the sill.

  The swans cocked their heads but did not touch the cake. Snowdrop frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Again, the male squawked and flapped his wings. The squawk contained volumes of meaning, the predominate one seeming to be Thickheaded human!

  Snowdrop sighed. “You don’t want food, so what—” She stared as both swans dove from the sill and flew in circles. “You want me to follow you?”

  The female squawked once, a short, insistent sound. Briefly, Snowdrop thought of the hart she’d seen by the stream, of his penetrating stare of kindness. She thought of the swan pool and how the swans had been a source of comfort and amusement. She’d spoken to them as well as the hart, explaining her predicament. It had been such a relief to talk and to know that they listened. She made her decision and turned toward her chamber door.

  In unison, the swans flew back to the window, striking the sill with their beaks. Snowdrop shook her head. “I can’t climb out a window. I’ll fall.”

  She gasped as the female thrust herself into the chamber. She flapped her wings and tail feathers. “But, you can’t carry me, either.”

  Then, the air was filled with a cacophonous tattoo of wing flaps. Snowdrop counted three more swans as they alighted upon the sill. They carried bundles of sticks and twigs. She watched in fascination as the male swan took the sticks from his fellow birds. The female flew back outside to join him, and together, they began weaving the sticks and twigs into a strange, makeshift hammock. The three other swans repeatedly flew away to soon return with more building material. The swans worked feverishly, and soon the conveyance was prepared. Shaking, Snowdrop approached the window and held out her hand. Immediately, the female swan positioned herself in front of the girl. Snowdrop grasped the bird’s tail feathers. She gasped as she was lifted into the air. Wind rushed past her as her stomach plummeted. She was dumped unceremoniously into the hammock.

  “Oof! You might be a bit more gentle,” she complained. Then, the world around her shifted, and she felt herself being carried away. For a moment, she considered struggling, but a stick and twig hammock was probably not a conveyance that would withstand much jostling. She decided to lie still and pray.

  Chapter Seventeen

  T he continuous flapping of the swans’ wings gradually wrought a calming effect. Flying was wonderful. Snowdrop finally opened her eyes. She saw that she had left the palace grounds and had entered a large copse of trees. The gentle chattering of water suddenly filled her ears. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  One of the swans squawked in an offended manner, and Snowdrop couldn’t help laughing. “Well, it’s not obvious to me,” she said.

  The chattering of water grew even closer, and Snowdrop felt her stomach plummet yet again as the makeshift hammock was lowered to the ground. She stared around her, seeing a stream’s bank upon which beautiful trees reposed. As she struggled to stand, twigs and brambles broke away from the conveyance. “Uh, you might want to consider a different form of transport when you take me home,” she said, laughing.

  The swans flew around her head once and then took flight. Snowdrop blinked in surprise as she finally stood. “Wait! What am I supposed to do? Where’re you going?“

  Then she saw him. Snowdrop gazed in awe at the majestic hart as he glided from the copse of trees. Light shimmered around him, and he held his head high. He possessed the regal bearing of a king.

  Snowdrop knelt. She had seen the hart often enough to know that he would come to her. He did so and lowered himself to the ground. “It’s you,” Snowdrop whispered.

  The hart thrust his crowned head toward her, allowing her to stroke his majestic antlers. Words reverberated around her. “Your sister is in danger.”

  Snowdrop gasped, feeling a lump rise in her throat. He’s speaking to me, she thought wildly, unable to fathom this strange turn of events. “M-My sister?”

  “Rachel. You must free her.”

  The anger that had slunk into its den reared its ugly head like a monstrous serpent. “She’s not my sister,” Snowdrop said. “She’s my stepsister.
”

  “And this makes a difference?” The hart’s voice was stern, his gaze penetrating. “Tell me all. I will listen.”

  Snowdrop shuddered. Then the words flew from her mouth, acrid and bitter as sour fruit. “He left me! He didn’t even say goodbye. Now he’s brought home someone I don’t even know. I-I can’t save her. I can’t save anyone. I kill. I—”

  “Child, you didn’t kill your mother. You didn’t kill Andrew, either.” The hart spoke gently, and the words sank into her very essence. Her anger shuddered. Then something within her shifted, and the cavern walls toppled. Suddenly, Snowdrop was weeping uncontrollably, months of pent-up sadness exposed and laid bare.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said.

  The hart stood. “You cannot be held accountable for another’s crimes.” His majestic head lowered, and tears shimmered in his eyes. “You must know that your father loves you dearly.”

  “Then why did he leave?” Snowdrop asked the question, then Rachel’s words returned to her mind. Stepfather told Mother he was searching for someone. She blinked in surprise. “He did believe me,” she said.

  “Yes, Snowdrop. Now, will you follow me? I will lead you to the only means of saving Rachel. In saving your sister, you will save yourself.”

  Snowdrop nodded. As she walked behind the hart, she suddenly laughed. “I’ve been carried by swans today, and now I’m talking to a deer. People will think I’m mad.”

  The hart laughed. “How do you know that the swans who carried you were indeed swans? How do you know that I am a deer?”

  Snowdrop blinked. “Of course you’re a deer. What else would—” Her voice trailed away, and she thought of the first time she’d seen him. He’d seemed so intelligent. The swans had seemed more than swans as well. Swallowing, she said, “What are you then?”