by Lilly Fang
I did my best to walk casually to where he stood. “Yes, Huntsman?”
“I don’t mean to trouble you.”
“You always think you are such trouble,” I teased him. “I hate to disappoint you, but it’s actually a pleasure to see you.”
“You’re the first to say that,” he said, his hand straying to rub the scars across his face.
“Don’t,” I said, catching his hand and holding it in mine. “Don’t hide.”
He held my gaze for a moment, then quickly looked down to his hand. “Would you walk with me?”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
It was dark and the moon just a sliver. I could barely see where to place my feet, much less if there was some evil waiting for us in the dark, but I felt no fear when I was with him.
We walked to the edge of town where a little stream played down the hill, the water smacking the rocks like a waterfall.
“Do you believe in magic?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
“Give me your hand.”
I held out my hand to him, and his calloused fingers took mine.
“Danger is coming. Evil is hunting for you, Snow White. It may already be too late. But I want you to have this.”
He slid a ring on my finger.
I looked at it sparkling in the moonlight. “It’s beautiful,” I gasped. “It must be worth a fortune.”
“It is, but not for its beauty.” He looked away. “Promise me that you will always wear it and never take it off, even for a moment.”
“I promise,” I said, thinking that nothing could make me ever want to remove it.
He let his eyes linger over my face for just a moment, and then he turned to go. I reached out after him, but I was not fast enough, and then he was gone.
Chapter 12: The Thief – Rose Red
“We need that mirror,” Snow said the next morning.
“The mirror that I saw at the Rosewood’s place?” I asked.
“Yes. The Mirror of Truth. With it, we have proof. If we can show everyone what you saw, we’ll be able to find the evil and drive it out,” Snow said, smacking her hand against the table. “We need to do it today. Every day we wait and Mother doesn’t return means that she’s in trouble and needs our help, and the festival is almost over. If one of the strangers is responsible, we need to figure out what is going on before they leave and take the mystery with them.”
I nodded. “Well, then I suppose it’s time you paid Latham Rosewood a visit.”
When we arrived at the Rosewood manor, Latham met us at the door.
“Snow White,” he said, a gratified smile coming across his face. “I’m so glad you were able to come for dinner.” He frowned a little when he saw that I was Snow’s only companion. “Was your mother unable to come?”
“My mother left for a journey a few days ago and won’t be back for some more,” Snow said politely. “I thought I might be so bold as to call on you before then.”
“Of course. What a beautiful rose, just waiting to be plucked,” he said, more to himself than to Snow, putting his hand under her chin, his thumb trailing her lips. My sister blushed, a delicate pink coloring her cheeks, which only made her more beautiful.
I cleared my throat. “May we come in?”
“This way,” Latham said without so much as a glance at me. He turned and led us into the manor.
I was on edge the entire night at dinner. The Rosewoods always put me ill at ease, and Latham’s overt interest in my sister made me even more uncomfortable. The rest of the family seemed to be evaluating her as well, trying to decide if her beauty was worth her lack of dowry.
“I like your hair,” Bree told Snow very honestly, playing with her own locks.
“Thank you,” Snow said. “You’re very kind.”
“Forgive me for being blunt,” Latham’s mother said, “but your father is dead, is that right, Snow?”
“Yes,” Snow said evenly, though there was a dangerous look in her eyes.
“It must be very difficult to get by without him,” she continued.
“We manage.”
I wanted to spring to Snow’s defense, but that wasn’t my role to play tonight. I had promised to keep as quiet as possible, particularly since the strangers were also at the table, as we’d hoped.
It wasn’t difficult to stay silent in their company. They still unnerved me. The Huntsman’s appearance was still disturbing to me, with his multitude of scars. The youngest one’s beauty made me fear for her. She was quiet and withdrawn, often closing her eyes. Shell was startlingly alert by contrast. Shell and Imerine did not look very alike. I wondered briefly if they really were sisters or if it was possible that Imerine was in danger.
Snow and I had a plan—it wasn’t perhaps the best plan, but it was what we’d come up with. Halfway through the dinner of quail and greens, Snow made a show of spilling her glass of wine across the table.
Bree shrieked, hopping back before any could splash her dress. Everyone crowded around to help clean it up.
I took that moment to fade into the background.
I knew I didn’t have much time. I ran straight to the room the strangers had been staying in. The mirror was there, still hanging on the wall in the same spot where I’d seen it before. I went to it and found the smallest shard—it was about the size of my palm and I hoped no one would notice its absence.
I pried the shard from the mirror and tucked it into my skirts before running back to the dinner room. When I resumed my place, the others were still fussing over the spilled wine.
Only Shell was looking at me, her one good eye fixed on me.
“Do you need anything?” she asked pointedly.
“No, no,” I said quickly. “I was only looking for something to help clean the wine, but it seems like everything is well in hand now.”
Shell nodded, but her gaze still lingered on me long after everyone returned to the meal.
That night, Snow and I curled up by the hearth to examine the shard I’d stolen.
Snow tipped it toward her, and I leaned over to see what she would look like.
My breath caught in my throat. She was ice and water, flowing and freezing as it shifted in her form. “Ice and water magic,” Snow murmured to herself. “Your turn.”
She tilted the mirror so that I could see my own face in it. Flames, burning so hot they were blue and a rich orange, flickered under my skin, embers for my eyes, and bright tendrils of fire for my hair.
“I’m beautiful,” I whispered.
Snow ruffled my hair. “You’re always beautiful.”
I gave her an exasperated look.
“Have you worked on controlling your magic?” Snow asked, taking a pear in her hand and beginning to slice it. “You may very well need it if we’re going to confront Shell.”
“I’ve tried some,” I said, “but nothing has worked.”
“Hold out your hand,” Snow commanded.
I obliged.
“Think of the fire. Don’t just think of what you want it to do, but think of why. Think of what will happen at the end of the week if you aren’t able to control it.”
I thought of William, who was really the beast. I thought of Shell and her watchful eye. I thought of the fearsome Huntsman and how my sister seemed drawn to him without any concern for herself. I thought of my sister in danger. I thought of being able to defend us against any dangers the forest held. A log in the fire snapped and a flame jumped from the hearth to my finger.
I held my palm out and it played across my hand like a kitten.
Grinning, I showed it to Snow.
“Not bad,” she said, holding up the last slice of pear to warm it on my little flame. “You’re getting better.”
“But will it be enough?”
Snow took my hand. “It will have to be.”
We stayed up late again reading through the second book we’d found under
Mother’s bed. This book was another listing, but instead of items this tome documented curses. It included everything from the ingredients needed to the exact method of combining them.
Some seemed harmless enough. The book began simply with A Draught to Cure Nightmares.
Gather seven sunflower seeds. Crush and combine with petals from the first blooms of an apple tree. Boil in water and add the foot of a crow. Drink before bed.
Some were more ominous. A Potion to Cure Heart Aches included blood from a slaughtered goat, moss from a gravestone, and a fingertip cut from an unwilling victim.
Snow and I were both falling asleep over the book when I found something that stopped me cold.
“Snow,” I whispered, pulling on her arm.
“What is it?” Snow asked.
I pointed to the page.
The Draught of Eternal Youth and Beauty.
“What of it?”
I pointed to the middle of the list of ingredients, halfway down the page.
Crushed eyes of a quail
Petals from a rose, boiled
The heart of a beautiful maiden
Snow bit her lip. “Maidens have been disappearing. You think this is why? To be used for this spell?”
I nodded.
“What about Mother?”
“That would mean she’s safe, wouldn’t it? She’s not a maiden,” I said quickly.
“Then why hasn’t she returned?”
“I don’t know,” I said, frustrated. “I suppose it doesn’t explain everything. But what if that really is what’s happening?”
“And who do you think is responsible? Obviously the Huntsman hasn’t been taking this draught.”
“Nor would William.” I drummed my fingers on the page. “Shell. What if she’s behind it? Maybe she plans to make Imerine one of her victims. Her so-called sister could be in danger.”
“We’ve got to figure out if she’s responsible. The festival is ending tonight. Whoever is behind this, we need to stop them before they leave the village.”
I nodded. “And before they strike again.”
The next night there was a bonfire to celebrate the ending of the festival. I took the mirror with me in my pocket, hoping I could get a glimpse of Shell. I wanted to wait for Snow, but I’d seen her walk off with the Huntsman. There was no telling when she’d be back.
Looking out over the crowd, I caught someone staring at me—William.
I tried lurking in the shadows, but William’s eyes followed me and headed straight for me.
He was quicker than I had thought him to be—he was in front of me before I would have thought it possible. “Rose, what are you plotting?” he asked me. “I know that look in your eyes. You’re about to get into trouble.”
“That’s not always true,” I said defensively.
“I’m worried about you,” he said, clearly frustrated.
“Well, don’t. I’m just fine.”
“Are you still angry with me?”
“You lied to me, William!”
William scratched his head in a way that I couldn’t help but think of as canine. “I never exactly lied to you.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “William, we’ve grown up together. I’ve talked to you almost every day of my fourteen years, and you never thought it relevant to mention that you sometimes turn into a beast and roam the forest?”
“I wasn’t allowed to talk about that,” William said, holding up his hands. “You should understand that. It wasn’t as though you came running to tell me about your fire.”
I shook my head. “I’m still not certain I can trust you.”
William put his hands on my shoulders. “Do you really think I would hurt Alice? Or your mother? Or anyone, for that matter? Rose, I’ve never tried to do anything but protect you.”
“You mean Snow,” I said. “You always look out for her.”
William put his hand on my shoulder, his expression changing. “Rose. Don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“What?”
“It’s you, Rose. It was always you. Why else would I put my rose under your name?”
“The rose was from you?” I couldn’t breathe. If I had only found this out last week, I would have been exuberant… But now… Everything was different.
“You know you can trust me,” William said.
“No,” I whispered. “I thought I did, but now I don’t know what to think.”
I pulled away from him and fled.
I was sitting staring into the fire when a scream broke through the festivities.
It was Lavender. She came running into the crowd of people, blood on her dress and hands and fear in her eyes. She had a wild look about her.
“Hazel,” she sobbed. “It got Hazel!”
The women tried to comfort her. The men gathered and raced into the forest, but I knew they would not find her. I looked around for William, as though seeing him now would prove that he wasn’t responsible, but I couldn’t find him.
“You!”
I looked up to see Lavender pointing straight at me with the hand I had burned.
“You hated her!” Lavender shrieked. The women tried to calm her, but she continued. “You got your revenge on her, and I’m next!” Lavender collapsed, sobbing.
Our time was running out. I knew I had to get answers. I left the bonfire and headed to the Rosewood’s manor.
The door was unlocked when I pushed it open. I took off my shoes, holding them in my hand so I could walk quietly over the wooden floorboards.
The house was dark, save for a few candles flickering on the walls.
I pushed open the door to the main room and came up short. Shell was there, sitting beside Imerine. I heard a door at the other end of the room open and someone walked in with heavy footsteps—the Huntsman.
The Huntsman knelt before Shell, his hands running red with blood.
I turned the mirror to get a glimpse at Shell’s reflection, expecting to see the witch’s form that I’d seen so many days ago.
It took a moment for me to line up the shard correctly. When I did, I nearly dropped it.
Shell was no witch. Her reflection in every way confused me. Her skin shone, as though it were made of polished metal. There were chains that bound her, wrapped around her arms and wrists and legs and even her mouth. One eye was covered, but it was the opposite eye than the one she wore the patch over. I glanced back at her, hiding the shard, just to make sure she was the one I’d seen. It was her. But I could not make sense of it.
I heard a voice, and it took me a moment to realize that it was Shell who was speaking, for her mouth in the mirror shard made no movement.
She was screaming. “You fool! You did not get the ring? Do you really think that Snow White cares for you? She’s used you, and played you for the fool that you are. Look at yourself. Scarred. Battered. Barely a man. Do you think she could possibly care for a monster? She only wants to destroy us!”
There was the sound of shattering glass, and then a woman’s shriek.
“Yes, good, you’re finally seeing her for what she is. Let your rage remind you not to fall for her tricks. We’ll have that treacherous maiden’s heart for this!”
I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from gasping.
“You must get back my ring,” the woman continued, sweet poison dripping from every word she spoke. “If we’re ever to have her lovely heart.”
I didn’t know what hold she had over the Huntsman, but he seemed too close to this. Snow was in danger because of him.
But still I had not found the witch. Not sure what to expect, I turned my the shard of the mirror on Imerine. Sweet, little Imerine. In the mirror showed me her true form.
Her skin was warped and wrinkled. Her brittle hair had come out in patches. So far beyond natural age, her skin was covered in warts. Her eyes rolled with what could only be a dark and terrible madness. Imerine, of all people, was the witch.
“Ah, she’s finally come to us,” the wi
tch said, speaking finally from her true body. Shell slumped over, a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Imerine threw out her hand and the door I hid behind flew open.
“Bring her to me!” she screeched.
The Huntsman lunged for me as I tried to scramble away. He caught me and threw me into the room. I fell to the floor, my head knocking painfully against the wall. I cried out and tried to stand, but he struck me with the back of his hand, sending me crashing down to the floor again.
“Stay down, my dearest,” the witch said pleasantly. “You’ll find it’s easier than forcing my poor Huntsman to break your pretty little head.”
I vowed to attempt an escape when the room stopped spinning.
“What a curious girl you are,” the witch said, peering at me. “You and your sister both. I prefer the hearts of those touched by magic, but you can be so troublesome. Though even I found it most surprising that your precious sister was able to turn my own creation against me.”
“He’s your creation?” I asked, despair creeping into my voice, for I knew Snow’s true feelings for him.
“Yes,” Imerine said. “I took his sister, once, long ago. He came after me and attempted to take his revenge. I ended that. What was left of him was mangled, barely human. But he had been a most impressive warrior, so I rebuilt him and breathed life into him. I own him, control him, and if he displeases me, I can take back his life with a thought.”
The Huntsman looked down, shame on his face.
“He hated me, once,” she said sweetly, her hand on his face. “But now he serves my every whim.”
“Except for hunting Snow,” I said through gritted teeth.
The Huntsman looked at me for just a split second, and in that moment I saw all the rebellion roiling in him that was fighting to surface against her spell.
“He fought me for a time,” Imerine said. “But now that I have you, my dear, it makes no matter.”
Across the room, Shell began to stir. Imerine turned to the girl and snapped. Shell rose to her feet.