Shadows on Snow: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales)

by Starla Huchton

  “Though a deep scarlet would suit your coloring well, I think perhaps you’re right about the potential for insult. As such, a nice emerald green will do nicely on you.” She closed her eyes and summoned her magic. Sky blue sprinkles of light rose from the ground and gathered in the air around her. Directing them all with graceful motions, they danced in time to the soft tune she hummed under her breath. Fairy magic was unlike anything else in the world. One could barely blink, let alone try to look away from the sight.

  “The memory of summer… the warmth of life in the sun… the whisper of wind through leaves… stolen kisses from a lover…” Her words were little more than gentle breaths, but echoed from every corner of the clearing.

  The gathered magic twirled in the air, then shifted, wrapping itself around me as a soft blanket. A stiff wind lifted my hair, spinning and weaving it as only fairy magic could. My skin prickled as it absorbed the remaining illumination.

  “Open your eyes, child, and see the beauty you are.”

  I frowned. “I do not wish for beauty, Godmother. I wish for strength.”

  “Strength comes in many forms. Beauty is but one.”

  “You’ve been speaking with Delphine, I see,” I said as I opened my eyes. Air stuck in my throat as I beheld myself in the conjured mirror before me. Indeed, I was as beautiful as she said. My plain brown hair was piled in astounding knots and waves, my cheeks flushed with a healthy glow, and my lips red as holly berries. Even my plain brown eyes were painted with swirls of green to match my dress, transforming them into something far more extraordinary.

  It was all I could do not to cry.

  I turned from the mirror, not able to bear another second of looking at myself that way. Even though I regularly wore a face not my own, that appearance, the horrifying embodiment of temptation, felt like a greater lie than any glamour I’d ever thought to put on. That reflection was not me.

  Gentle fingers lifted my chin, forcing me to look into my godmother’s eyes. “Of all the things you could fear, you fear yourself the most. You must not. Others cannot take this from you. Your spirit shines through any spell you weave. Own that. Be proud of it. Your true face is more than how others see you, and those that know your heart will never be fooled by your magic.” She took me by the shoulders and turned me to the mirror once more. “There is power in beauty, but there is greater power in love. That is what you see before you. Never turn away from it.”

  As I stared at the magnificent green gown hugging my waist, drifting up over the curves of my chest to curl in a pattern like summer ferns, I couldn’t see what she meant. That vision, the woman before me, was an invitation to men. It was a means to capture their attention and keep them fixated on the possibilities that lay beneath the fabric. It was not my heart they would seek out in clothes such as this.

  Something heavy and cool slipped around my neck, and I lifted a hand to touch the green gem hanging on a short gold chain, enchanted by its soft glow. My godmother stopped me.

  “You mustn’t touch,” she said. “Not until you need it.”

  I turned to face her, confused. “Until I need it?”

  She nodded. “This gem will grant you invisibility thrice over. The first you must use to enter the castle, so the guards will not question you. The second you will use to seek out the queen and determine what you can about her illness.”

  “And the third?”

  “The third,” she said, smiling, “is for if you find yourself in trouble. Be mindful, as each enchantment lasts only a quarter hour. After the third use, it will disappear, returned to who lent me it.”

  “And who lent it?”

  The corners of her eyes crinkled with her mischievous grin. “No one who will miss it if you’re swift.”

  My godmother had a wicked sense of humor, and always had at least one or two of her brethren up in arms over a joke or “borrowed” item. It was probably better I not know and hope its owner didn’t come looking for it at the worst possible time.

  “Now then, I believe that should…” She paused. “Hmm. I seem to be forgetting something.” She stepped back a few paces and studied me again. “Gown, slippers, necklace, hair… Ah! I remember.” With a flick of her wrist, the last piece of my ensemble appeared, and she set it in my hands. “Your mask.”

  I looked down at the delicately crafted item and a pang of homesickness made me wince. “Adelaide made this.”

  “She did,” my godmother said. “She worked from last night until sundown to get every detail exactly right. Seven leaves for seven sisters.” Her finger touched each oak leaf, three at each eye, one curved up the middle. “Every vein for a year of life.”

  Steeling myself, I pushed back my tears. “Tell her thank you for me, and send them all my love.”

  My godmother hugged me tightly. “As they send theirs.” She broke away and nodded. “It’s time now, dearest one. Your other things are with your weapons. Touch your clothing and all of this…” she motioned to my dress, “will disappear. Remember my words tonight and be swift, be safe.”

  “Spirits willing,” I said, then turned to go, but paused to look at her one last time. “And thank you, Godmother, for everything.”

  After she blew me a kiss, its magic leaving me scented with subtle jasmine, she lifted into the sky. The light and warmth in the clearing followed her up and into the dark of night, trailing behind her as the tail of a comet.

  As I stepped into the woods once more, I braced myself. That night I would be without the security of my own glamour. I might as well have been naked and walking into a lion’s den.

  Chapter 3

  I approached the castle from the gardens along the back and checked to see that I wasn’t followed. From my position outside the hedge maze, the sound of soldiers on their rounds allowed me to pinpoint their locations, the clank of their armaments against bracers and chain mail giving them away. The closer I could get to the castle before having to use the invisibility amulet, the better. Suddenly reappearing in the middle of a crowd of guests, or worse, of guards, would be less than ideal. Listening intently, I broke cover at an opportune moment and headed in through a break in the maze.

  It was a struggle to keep from running, but wealthy noblewomen didn’t hurry anywhere. As that was what I was for the occasion, I had to act accordingly. Each step I took tightened the knots in my stomach, and the whispers of trysting guests caused me to jump. At every turn, thoughts of what might happen if I was caught became more and more real, and I could nearly feel the clamp of iron around my wrists as they dragged me into the dungeons.

  I was about halfway through the maze when I realized my mind had wandered and I’d lost my focus. Rounding a corner and coming face to chest with an armed guard as I slammed into him, I cursed inwardly at myself for not being more aware of the sounds of patrols.

  “Terribly sorry, M’lady,” he said as he steadied me on my feet. “I didn’t hear you approach.”

  Fighting back the urge to push him away and run, I remembered who I was supposed to be.

  “Yes, well, perhaps you can be of some use to me as recompense for nearly knocking me to the ground,” I said, indignant as I brushed out nonexistent wrinkles from my skirt.

  He bowed. “How may I be of service, M’lady?”

  “I came out for some fresh air and turned myself around in this bushy business.” I waved at the tall hedges. “How does one get out?”

  The guard studied me for a moment, considering me. “Have you your invitation?”

  “Of course I haven’t,” I snapped at him. “My father received the invitation. Don’t be dim.”

  “Your father?”

  “Lord Tremaine of Bradenshire,” I said, remembering the name of a man blessed with an astounding amount of children. At last count, he was at a whopping seventeen sons and daughters. “Are you about done questioning me, or shall I find my way on my own and have you reprimanded by your captain for delaying me?”

  He straightened and gave a nod, turning b
ack the way he came. “If you follow this path until the second right turn, then follow that to the third left, that will lead you straight out.”

  I sniffed and brushed off the front of my skirt again, not so much as thanking him for his assistance.

  “Have a pleasant evening, M’lady,” he called after me, but I didn’t stop to return the sentiment. Really, I greatly disliked being so rude, but being polite or cordial would cast suspicion on me instantly. Better to insult him a bit and save my skin, than spare his feelings and wind up in a cell.

  My nerve faltered as the sounds of the ball finally reached me. Laughter and music carried into the garden and my steps slowed. Checking for any other people about, I touched the gem around my neck.

  A shimmer passed over me as the magic took effect. A quick glance told me it worked as well as my godmother said, and I emerged from the maze and crept up the stone steps to the veranda overlooking the garden. Not one of the amorous couples dotting the dark corners so much as glanced at me, and the guards posted inside the wide doorway kept their eyes straight ahead.

  Disregarding the astounding display of wealth drenching every guest and buffet table for the moment, I looked for an unoccupied corner to take up residence in until I had a better handle on the situation. I slowly dodged and weaved my way across the dance floor, nearly missing more than one couple engaged in a bouncy reel, then settled myself in beside a table overflowing with delicious-smelling pastries and roasted meats.

  It was then my stomach reminded me of how long it had been since I’d had a full meal.

  Thinking quickly, I calculated I had roughly five minutes of invisibility remaining, but what I didn’t know was if the spell would extend to things I picked up. As a test, I reached for a slice of bread, intending to only lift it an inch or two, lest anyone was looking. The food did disappear, at which point the challenge became how to eat something I couldn’t see. Forgoing all propriety, I stuffed it in my mouth as quickly as possible, then moved down the line to snag small pieces of meat that vanished down my gullet more quickly than they did at my first touch. My eyes rolled back, savoring each buttery morsel. Was this how food tasted when I was younger and treated to such things regularly? How spoiled I must’ve been to have taken it for granted.

  A slight feeling of alarm came over me, a warning sign that the enchantment was about to end. Straightening my appearance as best I could, I stepped away from the table and behind a line of gossiping matrons who shook their heads sadly as they picked at the manners of the younger generations. They didn’t notice me when I rematerialized at their backs. As they seemed not to mind, I remained there, content to scan the crowd and wait for a good moment to slip away.

  A breeze stirred at the back of my neck, and I glanced back to see a smartly dressed servant emerge from a hidden doorway with a tray of flutes filled with a golden liquor. He immediately offered one to me, which I declined, wanting to keep my wits about me, but the chattering ladies were quick to relieve him of a glass each. I was far more interested in the servants’ entrance than the drinks, and decided to watch the flow of traffic to gauge my own timing later.

  A blast of trumpeters silenced the crowd and the musicians, announcing the arrival of the royal family, minus Queen Muriel, of course. King Alder descended the stairs, dressed from head to foot in crimson and gold. The prince appeared behind him, and I swore every lady in the place audibly gasped at the sight of him. His commander’s uniform glittered in the warm light of the ballroom, his medals and mask catching the reflections of the hundreds of candles in the chandeliers and ensconced on the walls. Strange that, even though the king was far more opulent in his attire that dripped with jewels, there was no question which of them looked more regal.

  A slimy smile crawled across the king’s face, sending a shiver down my spine. I remembered that look from my childhood, and it frightened me now as much as it did back then.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Allow me to officially welcome you to the palace. Tonight, we celebrate the return of Prince Leopold as he prepares to ascend to his rightful place on the throne.” His eye twitched a little at that. “It is the queen’s dearest wish that we not mourn for her delicate condition, but give thanks for the prince’s safe homecoming. And, as it is my duty to carry out her commands…” He lifted his hands, clapping them three times. “Let us make merry this night!”

  At his words, the musicians struck up once again with a happy tune, inviting a circle dance onto the floor. With a sigh, I recalled that, long ago, it was one of my favorites when I was invited to participate. Smiling a little, I resumed my watch, continuing to note the comings and goings of the servants. The swish of fabric of every lady’s gown accompanied the rhythm of the music, and the gleam of silver and gold sparkled in the warm light any direction I turned. The dances spilled across the center swath of the room, flowing from the grand staircase all the way to the steps of the dais holding the thrones.

  As my gaze drifted over every magnificent color and graceful movement, I jerked when his dark eyes met mine.

  Spirits help me, I knew being there was a mistake. He had me in his sights.

  Prince Leopold’s smile, even from the other end of the ballroom, sent me into a nervous panic, which was made no better when he moved towards me.

  As a crowd of twittering ninnies bent on catching his eye surrounded him, I saw my opportunity. Setting my hand against the gem at my neck, I shimmered and vanished, quietly sneaking in behind a servant carting off empty glasses to the kitchens. At the first turn in the wall passages, I broke away from the man and went in search of my quarry. The clock was ticking and I didn’t have much time. Exiting the tunnels through the library in the east wing, I was finally on my way. Not a soul lurked in the hallways, and I ran through the corridors until I neared the queen’s quarters, my soft slippers barely making a sound against the stone floor. Seeing two guards posted outside her door, I crept into the adjoining quarters for her handmaidens and closed the door with a soft click behind me.

  Unlike the opulence of the rest of the palace, there was a soothing quality to the soft blue and green fabric draped along the walls, posters of the beds, the curtains… everywhere. For the first time in six months, I’d found a room in the palace where I felt like I could breathe, but, under the circumstances, I didn’t have the luxury of enjoying myself there. Tiptoeing, so as not to disturb the two women slumbering in the bed, I made my way to the door leading to the queen’s bedroom.

  The moment I entered, I had to cover my mouth to stave off the cloying smell hanging in the air. Searching for the source, my gaze pulled to the bed, taking in the form of the withered Queen Muriel. I gasped and tried not to cry out. Her hair, thin as smoke, wafted across the pillows in pale waves, stirring at the slightest breeze. Her skin was so ashen and transparent that every vein in her body was visible through it, her bones poking up at harsh angles to further show her closeness to death.

  My mother once looked as she did, and it was all I could do not to sob at the ghostly memory. All at once, I remembered kneeling by her bedside, clutching at her hand even as she reassured me she’d be fine. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t make myself believe it then, as even a child could feel the icy grip of life’s end upon her.

  I shut the memories down, determined not to let them distract me from what I needed to do to keep history from repeating itself. With tears in my eyes, I approached the bed. No matter what, I had to put aside my own feelings to look at the situation objectively.

  Deep in slumber, she inhaled shaky, shallow breaths, barely moving her chest. She was not the proud, beautiful woman from the castle portraits, head held high and smiling. What remained was little more than a skeleton rattling its ribcage in a last effort to cling to life. It amazed me that she still breathed at all. Queen Muriel must have had amazing strength to have lasted that long.

  I shut my eyes and mentally scanned the room. From what I could tell, there were no cursed pieces of jewelry or haunted relics eith
er on her person or nearby. Magic and I were well acquainted, and I would’ve known it instantly were it in play. I returned to a physical search. Beside her bed, on the nightstand, a cold, half-empty cup of tea sat beside a vase of large, white, five-petaled Daymaiden lilies. I reached for the cup, thinking I might be able to detect any poisons by scent or color, but I paused mid-motion.

  The glass vase holding the flowers was all but bereft of water. Barely an ounce or two remained in the bottom, with lines of mineral deposits left where the liquid evaporated. And yet, the lilies thrived as though they’d only been cut an hour before. Shifting my hand to hover over the blooms, the faintest hint of magic sent a familiar tickle across my skin.

  My time would be up soon. I needed to make my decision.

  After taking one of the blooms from the vase, I lifted the skirts of my gown and slipped the stem through my garter. With one last check of the room, my gaze lighting briefly on every horizontal surface and wall hanging, I left as quickly as I could without disturbing any of the occupants.

  I took the wall passage from the east wing library again, but exited before I got to the higher traffic areas the servants used. The place I ended up in was a cloakroom on the main floor, and I had to battle my way through hundreds of heavy garments before finding the door.

  As I slipped into the corridor, the same sensation of alarm passed over me. Fortunately for me, the powder room was nearby, and none would question my presence.

  I paused for a moment, thinking. I had what I came for, and there was no reason for me to return to the ball. Nothing beyond the unsatisfied rumble of my stomach, at any rate, which was very insistent. Dare I risk it? So long as I left within the hour, I saw no reason not to indulge myself the one time, even if I had to wear a dress to do so.

  And I did so miss the sound of music. For years, I’d not heard musicians aside from my sisters.

  It had been a very long six months. Surely there was no harm in a little leisure.