Mirror, Mirror

by Laura McConaughay

  They had finally reached a road - not a paved road, but a real, relatively smooth dirt road, and Rosamund had rejoiced and stretched her aching limbs. She had been hoping that the rest of the journey would be relatively uneventful, but unfortunately it was only minutes later that the children had become bored, and she had to stretch her ingenuity to keep them entertained. They had finally fallen asleep across her lap about half an hour ago, and under their weight her legs were starting to fall asleep as well.

  It was with heartfelt relief therefore that she felt the carriage stop, and she held her breath until the door opened, lest it prove to just be a temporary halt. After a few moments she heard something fumbling outside, then the door swung open to reveal the liveried groom.

  “Are we there yet?” Rosamund found herself asking, still not quite daring to give in to the relief.

  “Yes, milady,” the groom replied, staring at the air over her shoulder.

  Rosamund gave a sigh of relief, and handed one of her sleeping children over to the groom. “Here, help me, will you?” she asked.

  The groom held his hands out automatically, and was clearly startled to find himself with an armful of small child. Rosamund smiled slightly at his confusion, but did not say anything. She gathered her other child up in her arms and carefully descended from the carriage.

  Outside she stopped and looked around in surprise. The setting sun was behind her, and was reflected ruddily off the long, low building before her. It was a pleasant-looking building, with half-timbered walls and narrow latticed windows. It looked like a large country house, or perhaps a hunting lodge. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn‘t the palace that Randolph had so often described, and the dark forest surrounding the building certainly wasn’t the bustling town that she had heard so much about.

  As Rosamund stood and stared, the front door of the building opened and a woman came out. As the woman approached with a welcoming smile, Rosamund could see that she was middle-aged, and very finely dressed. The woman’s features were a bit too square and blockish to be called handsome, but she carried herself well, and the quality and style of her clothing seemed to lend her a great deal of countenance.

  “Good evening,” Rosamund said when the woman was close enough to hear. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that I’ve been brought to the right place…” she trailed off as the woman’s smile broadened, revealing large, white teeth.

  “Of course you’ve been brought to the right place, my dear,” the woman cooed, moving even closer and taking Rosamund’s arm. “That’s if you’re Rosamund, of course.”

  “Yes, I am,” answered Rosamund in slight confusion, “But…”

  “And I am Queen Eugenia, your mother-in-law,” the woman went on to say, drawing Rosamund forward towards the house.

  Rosamund stared at her in mingled surprise and dismay, and was suddenly conscious of how tousled and untidy she must look after so many hours in the carriage. “You’re Randolph’s mother?” she asked after a shocked pause. “I thought that she had…I mean, that you had…I mean - oh, but surely you‘re too young to be his mother…?”

  “Oh, no,” replied Eugenia with a tinkling laugh. “I’m not Randolph’s mother. I’m his stepmother.”

  “Oh!” said Rosamund, glad that at least one source of her confusion was disposed of. Questions piled up in her mind, and she settled on the most important of them. “Is Randolph here? Where are we?”

  “We are at a small hunting lodge that I own,” said the queen. “It was a wedding gift, given to me by the king shortly after we were married.”

  “And Randolph? Is he here?”

  “No, my dear, he isn’t here,” replied Eugenia. “There’s some kind of trouble brewing with the army up north, and he wanted me to bring you here for safekeeping while he looked into it. I do hope that he doesn‘t take it into his head to lead any charges himself…”

  “What?” asked Rosamund in shock. “Randolph never told me anything about a war.”

  “Well, he probably didn’t want to worry you before,” said Eugenia, stopping and looking intently into Rosamund’s eyes.

  Rosamund met the dowager queen’s inquisitive gaze, her own eyes full of worry and fear. “He won’t, will he?” she asked somewhat obscurely. “Lead any charges, I mean.”

  “I don’t know, to be sure,” said the queen. “I should hope not, given what I know of his abilities. But then, Randolph was always a reckless boy. Very impulsive. Just look at your own marriage.”

  Rosamund did not comment on this, for her thoughts were full of her absent husband and this war that she had just learned about. Instead she said, “He should have told me. He must have known that I would find out, especially if he wanted me to come here for safekeeping, as you say.”

  Eugenia made a noncommittal noise, and tried to change the subject, pulling Rosamund towards the house again as she did so.

  Rosamund allowed herself to be led forward, but her thoughts were still running on the news she had received. “Is that why there are so many guards here?” she interrupted, looking at the cadre of heavily armed men who were stationed at frequent points around the building.

  Eugenia paused for a moment, then said, “Of course, my dear. To keep you safe.”

  The queen dropped her arm to lead the way into the house, and Rosamund was left in her wake. She paused for a moment and stood there in the lengthening shadows, then she stepped past the expressionless guards and followed the dowager queen inside the house.

  * * *

  The first few days passed pleasantly enough for the people gathered at the hunting lodge. Anything outside the castle grounds was new and exciting to Rosamund and her children, and as soon as they had recovered from their journey they spent hours exploring the house and the woods surrounding it. Their hostess was polite and considerate, and always had something to say, but Rosamund was never able to really warm up to her.

  As for Eugenia, she did everything she could to make the princess feel safe and comfortable, and while she did so, she plotted. When she had arranged to have the princess brought to this house, she had not had any clear plan of revenge in mind - she had just known that having Randolph’s wife in her power was going to be very useful. It wasn’t until she had seen his children that a plan had begun to crystallize in her mind.

  It was a very well-guarded family secret, but Eugenia’s mother had been part-ogre. This knowledge had been kept from nearly everyone in the world, and especially from Eugenia’s father. When the secret had finally been passed on to Eugenia, she had sworn to keep it as closely as her mother had, and her mother’s mother before her.

  This was a promise that she had kept, not even telling her beloved half-brother Felix, her father’s son by his first marriage. Indeed, Eugenia kept the secret so well that most of the time she was even able to forget about the taint herself- but every once in a while however, that ogre blood boiled to the surface and made itself known.

  The worst part about having ogre blood was not the square jaw-line, nor the having to keep a massive secret - the worst part about having ogre blood was the occasional craving for human flesh. For years at a time, Eugenia would be able to keep this craving suppressed, but then, every once in a while, it would grow too strong to be ignored. Whenever she needed to satisfy this craving, she would come to this hunting lodge. The guards were well-paid and knew how to keep their mouths shut, and the servants were loyal to her, though they went through cooks at a rather high rate.

  On this occasion, Eugenia was convinced that her meals were going to be the most succulent that she had ever had, since the natural flavor would be so much enhanced by the added savory of revenge. She would punish Randolph for his impudence, Eugenia swore to herself. She would punish him thoroughly.

  * * *

  Rosamund returned from her walk in the woods, tired and hungry but not discontent. The forestland around the hunting lodge was lovely, and she was never afraid of becoming lost, because she was always followed by at least one guard
. They were an unfriendly lot, and did not wear her husband’s family’s livery, but Rosamund did not mind their presence. In a roundabout way, they reminded her of Randolph’s care for his family.

  Realizing how late the hour had grown, Rosamund entered the hunting lodge and dashed upstairs to get ready for dinner. She washed and changed quickly, reflecting with a pang of regret that she wouldn’t have time to make her usual visit to the nursery if she didn’t want to be late.

  Finishing her toilette, Rosamund then hurried downstairs again, pausing outside the dining room door just long enough to catch her breath. The queen was a stickler for punctuality when it came to meal-times, and had gone out of her way to mention that tonight’s dinner was going to have a special surprise.

  A distant clock softly chimed the dinner hour as Rosamund opened the door and entered the room. She greeted the queen politely, who was already seated at the head of the over-sized table, then took her own chair.

  “Good evening, Rosamund,” Eugenia said, her smile of welcome widening slightly. “I do hope that you’re hungry.”

  “Yes, thank you,” replied Rosamund, spreading a napkin across her lap. “That cascade you suggested I visit today was much further away than I had anticipated, and the walk has left me quite famished.”

  “Excellent,” said Eugenia, her smile wider than ever. “I am so pleased to hear that. No doubt it will make you enjoy the meal that much more - and it is a very special meal tonight too, as I believe I told you at lunch.”

  “Yes, so you said. What are we having?” asked Rosamund.

  “Your daughter,” responded Eugenia.

  “Aurora is joining us for dinner?” asked Rosamund, surprised. Over the past few days, Eugenia had made it quite clear that she thought children belonged in the nursery, and nowhere else.

  “In a manner of speaking,” replied Eugenia. “But not in the way you mean.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Rosamund.

  “Of course you don’t,” said Eugenia, almost purring with enjoyment at the scene. “Your daughter isn’t joining us for dinner - we’re having her for dinner. I’ve been assured that she will make a truly splendid main course, with enough leftovers for several more meals besides. It’s never good to be wasteful, you know.”

  Rosamund stared at the dowager queen blankly for a moment. “That’s not at all funny,” she said after a moment, more puzzled than angry.

  “It wasn’t meant to be funny, my dear,” Eugenia replied, putting her elbows on the table and leaning forward slightly. “It was meant to be horrifying.”

  “Really, ma’am,” said Rosamund stiffly, “I must take leave to tell you that this joke is in the worst taste, and as I am neither amused nor horrified, I ask that you let the jest drop.”

  “Such a polite speech,” mocked Eugenia, sitting back again. “I hope that your politeness will extend to actually sampling the dish. After all, we don‘t want to insult the cook, now do we?”

  “Please, ma’am, have done. What are we actually having for dinner?” asked Rosamund impatiently, sitting very straight in her chair.

  “I would not lie to you, my dear new daughter,” said Eugenia, with another smile. “Not on such an occasion as this.”

  Rosamund was becoming angry, and was about to retort when she stopped short. There was something about the dowager queen’s satisfied smile that flung the tiniest shadow of a doubt into Rosamund’s mind, which quivered there and could not be quite ignored.

  With a valiant attempt at a derisive smile, Rosamund said, “And I suppose you’ve had her chopped into stew meat.”

  “Of course not,” protested Eugenia. “Stew meat indeed!”

  “No, I thought not,” began Rosamund, but she was interrupted.

  “No, no, she’s being served roasted and served with what I am assured is a most excellent sauce.”

  The shadow of a doubt quivered again and began to grow in Rosamund’s mind. For a few moments she was quiet, waiting for the queen to admit the jest and change the subject. The queen just sat there and continued to smile at her, making the pause grow more and more dreadful by the second. Finally Rosamund rose from the table.

  “I have had enough of this,” she said angrily, tossing down her napkin. “I am going upstairs to see Aurora myself, and that will be an end of it.”

  Rosamund walked quickly to the door, but was barred from leaving by two of the guards. Still as expressionless as ever, despite the unnatural conversation they had clearly been overhearing, they blocked the door by crossing their spears in front of it, and would not move even when she ordered them to do so.

  Rosamund, who was much more accustomed to being obeyed in everything than in being denied anything, was shocked, and took a step back. She looked over her shoulder at the queen in time to see Eugenia make a gesture at the guards, who drew back their spears and moved away from the door.

  Eyeing the men warily, Rosamund slipped past them and through the door. She managed to keep herself to a sedate walk until she was out of sight of the dining room door, then she broke into a run. Dashing up the stairs and down the hall to the nursery, she burst into the room and looked around anxiously.

  The first thing Rosamund saw was her son, crying in his nurse’s arms. For the briefest of moments Rosamund was held still by fear, then she rushed forward and picked up her child. Rocking him back and forth, and still looking worriedly around the room for her daughter, she spoke to the nurse.

  “Where is Aurora?” she asked in a low voice, trying not to frighten her son.

  “Oh, mi’lady,” the young woman wailed, without bothering to keep her voice down. “She’s been taken away!”

  A cold finger touched Rosamund’s heart, and for a moment she could not speak. Regaining her voice, she said, “Taken? By whom? When?”

  “Hours ago, mi’lady,” the girl replied. “I wanted to send for you, but the guards wouldn’t let me. They just took her away and wouldn’t say where.”

  Rosamund’s throat felt dry and her eyes began to burn strangely. Almost blindly, she handed her son back to the nurse, imploring the girl to watch him with her life, then she turned and left the room. In the hall she paused, then a great wave of fear washed over her and she found herself running from room to room, calling out Aurora’s name over and over again - but the rooms were empty, and her daughter was nowhere to be found.

  With her fear melding into panic, Rosamund returned once more to the dining room. The queen was still sitting at the head of the table, humming to herself. For some reason the sight of the woman sitting there so calmly and happily worked on Rosamund like a strong drink. The room spun about her, and she felt her knees buckle.

  Rosamund gripped the back of a chair to steady herself, fixing her dizzy gaze on the horribly smiling woman in front of her. “Where is my daughter?” she asked, forcing herself to speak rationally and not letting herself scream, the way she wanted to.

  A door in the side of the room opened, and a wooden faced servant came in bearing a massive silver platter with a domed lid.

  “Ah,” said the dowager queen, turning to watch the servant’s approach. “Here she is. I had them keep her warm while you were gone.”

  Rosamund stared in horrified fascination as the platter was set down on the dining room table. The servant removed the lid with a practiced flourish, revealing a decadent display of carved meat, lightly pink and covered with sauce spread by a lavish hand.

  The queen licked her lips. Rosamund retched.

  * * *

  Eugenia relished every morsel of that meal, helping herself to both seconds and thirds. The girl had tried to stop her of course, and then had tried to leave, but the well-paid mercenaries were of great use in keeping her restrained and in her place at the dinner table. As the meal progressed, Eugenia had thoroughly enjoyed offering the choicest cuts to her daughter-in-law, who had moaned and begun choking again. Eugenia had pretended to scold the princess as well, saying that if she couldn’t eat what was put in front of her
, then she would just have to go hungry.

  Eventually however the queen had enough of tears and sobbing for one day, and allowed the girl to leave. She leaned back in her chair and sighed contentedly, planning out the next few days in her mind. Her own conversation during the dinner had given her an idea, and she sent new instructions to the kitchen.

  Having been released from her torment, Rosamund immediately went upstairs. The world no longer made sense to her, and while she was sure that there had been a madwoman sitting at that dinner table tonight, she could not be certain that it wasn’t herself, nor that this wasn’t all some elaborate delusion of her own fevered mind. In fact, she hoped it was - madness would be easier to accept than what she feared was the truth.

  Even if she wasn’t mad already, Rosamund felt that her reason was certainly coming undone now. She couldn’t even think about the scene she had just been forced to witness, and the only clear thought in her head at all was that she needed to get her son and get away. Ignoring their lack of transportation, supplies, or even knowledge of where they actually were, she was determined to leave the house that same night.

  A few minutes alone were enough for Rosamund to gather up the nurse, her son, and a handful of belongings. When she turned to lead them out of the nursery however, she discovered that they had been locked in. With wild thoughts of rope ladders and climbing trellises rushing through her mind, she ran to the window, but the moonlight was shining clearly on the guards standing right below and she had to abandon the idea.

  Though she could not immediately come up with another plan for escaping, the true helplessness of her situation took many minutes more to sink in. For the first time, she realized just how far away she was from anyone or anything familiar. No one back home knew where she had gone, and she was now quite certain that Randolph had not actually wanted her to come here. She had never received a letter from Randolph before, and so had not questioned the handwriting, but in retrospect she realized that she had been extremely foolish not to have done so. She was usually so prudent - how could she have fallen so easily into that evil woman’s clutches? And yet, on the other hand, how could she possibly have foreseen this?