Faerietale

by Stephanie Rabig

  “Brilliant.”

  The Prince frowned. “I don't think I appreciate that tone.”

  No answer.

  He cleared his throat, glared at the impertinent glass. “There's a woman. Catherine. She's-- she's hurt very badly. I wish to help her. Fiametta has said that potions can't heal what has been done and Red refuses to use any further forest magic . . . what can be done?”

  “The girl with no hands must be taken to the Seven.”

  “The Seven? You mean the dwarfs? But they live in the forest.”

  “Correct.”

  “But they can help her?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. All right,” he whispered, wondering how this could be done. He couldn't ask Little Red-- she wouldn't even perform the magic herself; the idea that she would willingly bring him and Catherine out into the forest was laughable. “My next question. Where is my sister?”

  “Also in the forest.”

  He closed his eyes tightly, remembering the cards Red had shown him; violence and secrets and constant danger. “What's she doing out there?”

  “Surviving. The Queen sent her to her death. She evaded it.”

  “I . . . our mother?” he exclaimed. “Our mother sent her out there?”

  “No.”

  A misunderstanding, then. “Oh, thank Sche--” he began, and then the mirror continued.

  “Her mother. Not your mother.”

  Not Royal blood. “What do you mean?” he whispered. “No. No, wait. Who . . . who was Snow sent out there with?” he asked, dreading the answer, but not so much that he wouldn't take it, take anything, to avoid what this thing had said for just a moment longer.

  “The Huntsman.”

  “Oh. Oh, good.” As ridiculous as it was, he almost breathed a sigh of relief. If this thing had said Little Red--

  Then what? he wondered. Would you have even been surprised?

  He took a deep breath. “What do you mean, the Queen is not my mother?”

  And the mirror told him.

  When Estelle knocked on his door, he barely answered. Just enough to tell her that he was fine, and that no, he did not want company.

  Her sister, he was certain, wouldn't have taken no for an answer. But Estelle walked away, and the Prince continued to stare at himself in the mirror. The stolen mirror.

  His mother-- no, not his mother, he had to stop thinking of her that way-- would soon miss it from downstairs. His plan was haphazard and dangerous and more than a little foolhardy, but it would have to be set in motion tonight.

  ***

  "Beckah! Beckah, wake up!"

  She opened her eyes, and just as quickly narrowed them at him. "Change your mind about wanting company tonight?" she asked, and this time he recognized the venom in her voice for what it was, instead of fooling himself into believing she was just taunting him as a game, toying with him before they went to bed.

  "No," he said quietly. "I . . . I need a guide into the forest."

  She sat up. "What?"

  "The Seven. I need to get Catherine to the Seven; they can make her new hands."

  "They are rumored to have powerful magic," she said, still giving him a skeptical look. "But then why not just send me along with her? Why do you want to go?"

  "Because I . . . I do not think I could bear to stay here another moment. Wake Catherine. Please," he added. "It will give her quite a start if I do so."

  "Very well. We'll meet you in your room before an hour's passed."

  “Beckah?” the Prince asked. She had taken him and Catherine three steps into the forest, and then stopped, giving him a look that he couldn't decipher at all.

  “This may be as far as I go.”

  “What?” Catherine squeaked. “Why?”

  “My apologies, Catherine. This has nothing to do with you.”

  “I beg to differ, seeing as I'm here!”

  "You told me you would take us to the Seven! You have to know where they are," the Prince said, giving Beckah a pleading look. "You told me you did! You-- weren't you the one who was engaged when I brought you in? I . . . I ruined your life, didn't I? So you have to know something about the Seven and the other people who're against our rule. Please, we need to get to them."

  Beckah smiled, the expression slow and hateful, and frightening in the forest's shadows. The Prince felt Catherine tense beside him. Then, as if suddenly aware of the accidental contact, she stepped away.

  "I wasn't engaged," Beckah said. "I made that up because I thought you would have enough decency to back away. Shows how foolish I was."

  He blinked. "Then why--"

  "Because I have a daughter, you imbecile." He stared at her, and though the fury she would've normally expected to come to his face didn't appear, she still told herself to speak more carefully. Just because he seemed to be finally developing a brain didn't mean he suddenly liked being insulted.

  "I . . . I've never met her."

  "I didn't want you to. I don't want her near anyone in that palace. You and your sister used to be so fond of hearing stories, Prince. Let me tell you one.”

  And she explained, what her daughter had been put through on that wretched evening.

  "That-- I'm sorry," the Prince finally said. "Whatever Andrei might have done, he didn't deserve. . ." He trailed off, seeing the look on Beckah's face. "What is it?"

  "Andrei was never the target. Nika was. Madari and I ended up fleeing to the woods. Found other dissenters here. Nika's grandparents assassinated the King; they were put to death. But their child was old enough when it happened that they might've passed ideas down to her. So she and her husband were killed in the woods, and rebels were blamed. But Nika was six-- that's old enough to pick up her parents' views, right? Best to make sure." The Prince had looked away from her now, looked ill, but she didn't let that stop her. Couldn't. "This is your mother's realm, Prince. Yours as well. So knowing that-- please tell me why I should tell you where the rebels are, instead of just turning you over to them?"

  “Because it is not my realm. Never has been, and quite possibly never will be. But it could be my sister's. You know as well as I how much she disagrees with the Queen.”

  “I also know that she was sent to her death. I am sorry, Prince,” she said, her expression gentling slightly. “But even one as high as she could not be allowed to treat the Queen's orders in such a--”

  “Ask it,” he said, holding out the mirror. “Ask it where Snow is.”

  “I don't—” she began, and then she sighed. “Mirror. Where is Snow White?”

  “She is with those who share her convictions. You tread the same ground.”

  Beckah glanced down at her feet, planted firmly on the dark earth of the forest floor, and nodded once. “Come on, then.”

  ***

  It was mid-afternoon-- or at least it felt like mid-afternoon from the way his stomach was growling and his legs ached-- by the time they stopped to rest.

  “This will do,” Beckah said, slumping back against a mottled tree trunk. “Prince. Stay awake. Once we have slept for two or three hours, wake me and I'll take next watch.”

  He nodded, leaning against his own tree but staying on his feet, watching around them for any sign of . . . well, sign of what exactly he wasn't sure. Anything not good.

  What was supposed to be out here, anyway? He hadn't gotten to that section of the library. He remembered Snow telling him a few scary stories when he was a boy, but there was no chance of them being true. Right?

  He sincerely hoped not, because he remembered a particular one about shadows coming to life and eating people that had made him put about twenty candles around his room that night and he'd nearly caught the curtains on fire. Mother had--

  No. Not mother.

  He closed his eyes, at first only to try and focus on something else, banish the unwelcome thoughts, but then the exhaustion from too many sleepless nights and their recent journey caught up to him, and his eyes stayed closed.

  “Prince!”


  “What? Everything's fine,” he said quickly, glancing around to make sure that was true.

  Nothing out of the ordinary. Catherine standing a few feet away; Beckah still sleeping against the tree. Good. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Nothing, I . . . I thought I heard something.”

  “I'll look around,” he said, though an instant later he was wondering what had possessed him to say that. He had no weapon, and if he did he wouldn't have the faintest idea how to use it. What was he supposed to do if he found some kind of ravenous monster, ask it politely it to find some other meal?

  He moved away from the tree and stretched, hoping that he looked nonchalant about the whole thing. Then he walked a few paces away from the others, going in a small circle around them, watching and listening.

  “Nothing,” he said, giving Catherine a relieved smile. “Everything's fine.”

  She smiled back, the first time that he'd seen that expression on her face. “Listen,” he said. “I just want you to know that I--”

  He paused when Beckah got to her feet. “Should we keep going?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She motioned in the direction they'd been heading before they'd stopped for a break, and Catherine scurried ahead. He followed, a part of him wanting to tell her to slow down, stay behind him-- which was, again, ridiculous. He had little to no chance of fighting anything off.

  “How far into the forest is it?” he asked Beckah. “A full day's walk? More?”

  “Not much longer now.”

  “Good. Is your daughter with the Seven as well?” he asked. “Or does she hide elsewhere?”

  “She's safe.”

  The Prince nodded. It was no wonder, really, that she didn't want to divulge information like that yet. He should've known better than to ask. The sound of running water up ahead distracted him from his questions, and he quickened his pace, reaching the small stream first.

  He crouched down and splashed his face. Catherine sat down next to the stream, frowning at the clear water. Her face was streaked with dust and tree sap, and a few random twigs littered her thick hair. “Let me?” he asked.

  She met his eyes, and he thought for an instant that she would smile again. Then she retreated, her expression growing shuttered, and she called Beckah's name.

  The other woman approached slowly, crouching down beside her. She dipped her hands into the stream and carefully wiped the worst of the grit off Catherine's face. The Prince smiled and got to his feet--

  And then he saw Beckah's back.

  It had been hollowed out. A wiry, dark green creature with jagged fangs was curled inside, bright yellow eyes locked on him, a fierce grin on its face.

  He couldn't speak, couldn't even swallow. He only stared back at the thing, as Beckah's hands moved-- not of her own will, not ever again-- and patted at Catherine's hair.

  He'd seen a dark patch. When Beckah had gotten up, he'd seen a dark patch on the tree and assumed it to be tree sap, that was part of the reason he'd been so pleased to find the stream; he'd thought she would enjoy the chance to clean up a little, but it hadn't been sap it had been blood--

  Catherine blinked water out of her eyes, then caught sight of his face. “Is something wrong?”

  “You . . . she . . .” Even those two words were dry, choked, barely understood. He wanted to tell her what he was seeing, tell her to get up, to run.

  It was too late.

  The thing in her back erupted out, leaving Beckah's body to slump forward. Catherine screamed and tried to scramble back, her wrists hitting the soft streambed and throwing her off balance.

  The creature pounced on top of her, claws tearing, and the Prince ran forward and caught it around the waist, flinging it away. It hit the ground on its side and rolled, gaining its feet an instant later, baring all of its teeth at him in an enraged snarl.

  “Run!”

  “But you don't--” Catherine started to protest, and without even thinking he reached back and hauled her to her feet, giving her a push in the opposite direction.

  Fire hit his side then, the beast catching him with its talons, and he staggered back, giving it a punch to the head that didn't even seem to faze it. Catherine was screaming for help, and her voice didn't sound very far away, why wasn't she running, he was hitting this thing again and again and it didn't help; it was going to take him down and then go for her next--

  Then something else collided with him, bigger than the monster that had taken Beckah's life. He heard a deep growl and then saw another set of jaws clamp down on the creature, taking it by the throat and ripping it off of him, shaking it back and forth viciously.

  The creature tried to sink its claws into this new opponent but it was being shaken too hard; it couldn't get a good hold. Then there was a sickening crack, and the beast went limp.

  The enormous dog dropped the thing, panting.

  The color red caught his eye then, and his gaze went from the pair of bright red jeweled slippers up the owner's body until it reached her face. She smiled down at the dog, which came up almost to her waist, and gave it an affectionate pat.

  “Good boy,” she said. Then she looked to them. “It was a dryad,” she said. “Never, never sleep with your back to a leafless tree. Come on. Wherever you're off to, let's get you there.”

  “Wait,” Catherine said. “We . . . Miss, we need to bury Beckah.”

  The young woman's gaze flicked to the body. “Very well. But not here. That one's friends'll be drawn to the smell before too long. Toto can take three or four of them, not a whole troop.”

  “Should we say something?” Catherine asked, and when she said 'we' she meant him, because she looked to him, and he was the one who'd known Beckah, hadn't he?

  Except he hadn't. Hadn't even known that she'd borne a child until she'd told him last night. Now she was dead, her daughter far away from her and anyone who'd ever loved her also far away, and she was in the ground with only him to say words and it wasn't fair.

  “I'm sorry,” he finally whispered, as the stranger moved away to give them a moment's privacy. The dog trotted after her. “It . . . Beckah, I'm sorry, this was my fault.”

  “No,” Catherine said. “You couldn't have known that--”

  “I fell asleep!” he blurted. “It was my fault; I should've been awake. That thing killed her, ripped her open and I . . . I was snoring.”

  “I slept, too,” Catherine said. “So is this my fault as well?”

  “She told me to stay awake.”

  “We were all exhausted!” Catherine said. “It was a mistake, a horrid mistake, but you listen to me! You can either sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can move forward and do something to make sure your strongest action isn't one you hate.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, and then he nodded once. “All right.”

  “Good.” She turned to Beckah's grave, started to reach out to rest a hand on the freshly-turned earth, and then she remembered and crossed her arms tightly. “I did not know you well, but you seemed a good woman. You were willing to help those who needed it, and you always had kind words for me. Your death came far too soon. It was plain how much you despised the Queen's rule; we will try our level best to make sure that--”

  “Catherine, stop,” he hissed, glancing back over his shoulder. The young woman had moved away, yes, but not completely out of earshot. The red of her slippers seemed to shine in the otherwise-drab colors of the forest.

  “No, go on,” the young woman said. “The shoes are an enchantment, a protection of sorts; they're no sign of loyalty to the Red Queen.” When Catherine just continued to stare at her, she sighed. “If I wished to see you dead, I never would've let Toto go after the dryad. I hold no love for the Queen or her policies. Why do you think we're out here?”

  Apparently satisfied, Catherine continued quietly. “We will try to make sure that wherever your girl is, she grows up in a kinder place than you did.” She bowed to the grave. “Goodbye, Beckah.”

&
nbsp; The Prince followed her gesture. “Goodbye.”

  ***

  They traveled for almost two full days before the Queen's soldiers found them.

  Those soldiers searched for him, the Prince knew, had been sent out here by his mother and probably sent to all the Villages as well to find him and bring him back.

  The woman with the red shoes heard them first, crouching down and yanking them down with her. Toto lay at her side, ears flattened to his head. “Over there,” she whispered, motioning to an enormous fallen tree. The trunk was hollow, moss growing over it and forming a partial curtain to the entrance, shrouding the interior in shadow. “Hide. Once they're gone, keeping heading that direction,” she said, pointing. “Scouts will find you before too long. Tell them Dorothy and Toto sent you.” She gave them a brief smile. “Good luck.”

  And then she was springing to her feet, moving in a deliberately clumsy fashion away from them, her dog beside her. “Hurry, Prince!” she whispered, loudly enough for anyone nearby to hear. “I'm sure I caught sight of your mother's soldiers!”

  They waited a long time inside the hollow trunk, waiting until the soldiers were most certainly gone, until the birds settled after all the ruckus and began to chirp again.

  “You should climb tonight,” Catherine said, as the shadows grew deep enough to make safe travel impossible.

  He shook his head. Dorothy had explained the previous night that sleeping up in a tree was the safest course of action in this forest, and had done so herself. Claiming clumsiness, and a certainty that he would only fall out in the middle of the night, the Prince had declined.

  “Look how wide some of these branches are,” Catherine protested, gesturing up. “It would be fine.”

  “No, it wouldn't,” he said. “I'm not leaving you alone on the ground.”

  “I'd be all--” Then she saw that his expression brooked no argument and sighed. “This one seems safe enough,” she said, looking over a tree that still bore a multitude of leaves. After walking its perimeter and checking what she could of its branches, she sat down at its base.