Closed Doors and Broken Mirrors

by S R Nulton

  I slowly raised my hand. “I bought it. Old lady. Sad looking. Never seen her before.” My voice was much smoother, but I didn’t have much energy still.

  “Smart. Made you feel sorry for her and give you something that will kill you. And there were enough apples to kill you all.” He paced back and forth for a few moments before reaching some sort of conclusion. “What we need is a glass coffin.”

  I blinked and then glanced around. It was entirely possible that my ears had been affected by my near death. Nope, everyone else looks just as confused.

  Merri seemed to have drawn the same conclusion. He was still being serious so it was easier to follow, but his next words still chilled me. “She has to be dead. You show off the dead body of Snow White, encourage the people to stay strong because you won’t back down. A glass coffin will do the work without risking anything.”

  “Still alive.” I thought it was important point out. And I definitely couldn’t hold my breath that long. People would be able to tell I wasn’t dead.

  “Well of course you are! It’s just a simple illusion. Doesn’t even need any substance. And we can veil you so you can still travel with them. But no more taking fruit from people you don’t know!”

  The rest of the group talked about it some more and decided it was a good idea. If the king thought that he’d succeeded, there would be no more death threats. There was just one wrinkle in the plan.

  “Mama. What about Mama?”

  Everyone shifted to look at me and froze as it hit them.

  “We can’t tell her,” Lorith told me gently. “Your father probably knows you didn’t die from the huntsman. He might even realize that your stepmother saved you. She needs to seem surprised and upset. If she’s calm or he’ll know that something isn’t right and he’ll try again.”

  I bit my lip and looked around. Only sorrowful faces looked back. “We tell her to contact us after she hears from him then. Nothing from me, but… we can’t let her think I’m dead for too long. She won’t keep fighting if we do.”

  That seemed to shock the room, but they didn’t know Mama like I did. She was a strong person, but she’d been protecting me for so long that she didn’t really have an identity of her own outside of being a mother.

  If she lost that, she lost everything.

  CHAPTER 9: IF THAT GIRL "DIES" ON ME AGAIN, I SWEAR…

  CAILLTE LYNN

  I’d never realized just how tense life had become for me. When I was a child, I’d lived a relatively carefree existence. My parents and grandparents had protected me and done what they could to ease the strangeness of living among people who were different from me. I was part dwarf, but I matured faster than my friends did. Which ended up being a good thing when I found myself thrust into a new life.

  Every day had been a struggle since coming to the castle. I had to walk on eggshells around my husband and servants. Making things more stressful, I constantly worried that I wasn’t raising Snow correctly. I think every parent has those thoughts, but I had a few more difficulties to face. For one thing, I was essentially a single mother and a young one at that. For another, I had to go the extra mile to ensure she was prepared for the real world, if she was ever able to escape. And ultimately, I had to protect her from her father and his little helpers.

  But Bekins wasn’t around anymore, spying on me and reporting every move back to my husband. He wasn’t there with his sly remarks and cutting words. There was no one but the cook that I had to act crazy for! For the first time in ages, I was allowed to be myself.

  I was allowed to finally let go of the stress I had constantly operated under for the past fifteen years.

  So, naturally, Dallin was constantly there to add a fly to the ointment.

  “I don’t know why you don’t believe me,” he said as we walked through the woods. We’d done the same thing every day for the last five weeks. “You are a beautiful woman. What I say won’t change that fact.”

  I snorted. “How can I be beautiful when I can change my face to look like anything?”

  “Ah, but I didn’t say that you look beautiful, which you do. I said you are beautiful. There’s a difference you know.” When he saw my expression, he smiled gently and explained. “You forget, I’ve lived among the Fey. They are beautiful to look at and miserable to be around. Mostly. Actually, the lower classes and the Unseelie are quite pleasant, but the Seelie court is as ugly inside as they are lovely on the outside.”

  That made me think. I’d never put much stock into someone’s appearance because mine was so changeable. Words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘ugly’ weren’t used by the Wraiths when talking about a person’s character.

  “Then what do they use?” Dallin asked, making me realize I’d spoken the last part aloud.

  “Um… mostly flavors. Like, if someone is cruel, they are a bitter salt. It tastes bad and burns your tongue. If they’re nice, they are a flavorful person. You always want more of something that tastes good. Some people are hearty because they are strong and build people up and others are dried fish because they are salty tongued and their words can catch in your throat like small bones. Some people are even referred to as a staple. It isn’t so much about flavor at that point, more of about the fact that you want them around all the time. They are what you would build the rest of their lives or plans upon.”

  He hummed and nodded. “That makes sense. I can’t say that I’ve ever thought about what it would be like if I could change my looks by thinking about it. It’s comforting, though, that your eyes always stay the same.”

  I laughed. “Unlike yours. Isn’t that funny? Your eyes change color and mine don’t. Actually, no Wraiths can change their eye color. They actually get unnerved by the more human coloration. Hazel isn’t common up there unless you have human or dwarf blood. And I’m not as good about things like height or weight. Grandma is an expert at both. I can just fudge a few inches here and there. Most of my changes are skin and hair color. It’s enough to hide in plain sight though.”

  “That it is. But I like you better when you look like yourself. And I know you changed the subject, but I still think you’re beautiful. Or flavorful, I suppose. You are a strong woman to have endured all you did and not given up. Also, having met your daughter, I can say that you did a wonderful job raising her. She knows how to love because she was shown. Now if I could only get you to demonstrate with me,” he murmured.

  I blushed, knowing he was flirting with me again. He’d been doing a lot of that. For some odd reason, he seemed determined to win my affections. Snow had seen it when she visited a few weeks before and had been relentless, asking about him in every one of her letters. Naturally, I had teased her right back. I’d seen the jealousy on Prince James’ face when Dallin had kissed her hand. He looked like he was ready to drag her away any moment and had actually sighed in relief when Dallin refused to go with them.

  Thump-thump, thump-thump.

  I blinked. “Someone’s coming up the road. It seems Bekins is back.”

  Dallin’s expression was resigned. “I suppose that it was too much to ask for him to stay away any longer. You should be getting back. We don’t want that pompous git to realize that something is different with you.”

  Nodding, I hurried away, drawing my exhausted looking disguise up around me as I did. Then, I promptly lay down and rolled around.

  “There,” I whispered. “Now I look better. Or worse, I suppose.”

  By the time I reached the castle, Bekins was already finished putting his horse up and was inside the castle. I thought he might be getting settled in again, but instead, he was waiting for me in the front hall again.

  “Again?” he sighed, looking at the dirt on my dress and the twigs in my hair. “What is your obsession with tromping around those woods? What, did more twigs throw themselves at you?” His sneering face was not what I wanted to see, but I was happy to hear his comments. When he knew something, he was usually much more clever about how he brought it up. “Well, it can�
�t be helped. His Majesty will be here in a few minutes.”

  I barely kept my eyes from showing my dismay. Instead, I kept my face blank and cocked my head to the side. “But I don’t have any broccoli. The carrots and cauliflower lied and sent me out to find broccoli, but the little trees were hiding.” I kept my eyes from blinking a little longer than was natural and made Bekins look away with a grimace.

  He didn’t say anything though. He didn’t have a chance. The king chose that moment to throw the front door open.

  “Hello, darling. How are you?" my husband drawled.

  Bekins rushed forward to assist him in taking off his riding gloves. Who needs help taking off gloves?

  “What have you been doing, rolling around in the garden?”

  I blinked at him, owlishly. “Broccoli. The carrots told me it was out there with a parrot. But the parrot wanted too much money. So I told him no and he pushed me down.”

  Blue Beard snorted. “So, you tripped and fell? Really, I thought you were more graceful than that. No matter though. Have you heard from my daughter lately?”

  Why would he ask about her? Unless he knows she’s alive. I decided to play extra stupid, just to give myself a moment to calm down. The thought of him anywhere near Snow was terrifying. “What daughter?”

  “Snow White. The child you raised and then killed. Well, told me you killed, at least.”

  I frowned. “Stone Black? Is that who you’ve been sneaking around with again?”

  He laughed. It wasn’t a very pleasant sound. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Perhaps you really didn’t know. Either way, she’s dead now.”

  My breath caught slightly, but I let it out as a sigh when I saw him watching me. “How lovely! One less competitor. When is the first challenge? I want to come in first and get a pretty crown!”

  Bekins snorted. “If you win, you might get the same prize as the little upstart. A poison apple can fix a lot of problems.”

  To both Bekins’ and my surprise, the king whipped around and slapped the butler across the face.

  “You were not asked to speak. Now, make sure that the food is ready. I will leave after dinner.” He started to walk out but stopped and turned to me. “By the way, darling, you haven’t opened the door under the stairs, have you?”

  “What door? The one to the library? I like the library. Books are so pretty when you stack them!”

  Clearly that wasn’t what he wanted to hear because he growled and stalked away. Soon it was just me left in the entryway and all I wanted to do was cry.

  She can’t be dead. I won’t believe it. I’ll send her a note after dinner and ask what’s going on. No, I’ll send Dallin. The captain should be able to find out what really happened. Yes. All I have to do is get through dinner. Simple.

  ~

  Bekins retired as soon as the king left, which was a relief. It was hard enough to eat even without listening to their pointed comments. Grief is an excellent diet but not one I’d recommend.

  If I hadn’t already known how cruel the man was, our dinner conversation would had eliminated any misconception. No one should describe their dead child’s coffin so snidely, I thought as I meandered through the woods. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t chance it. Bekins might be watching and it would tip him off. As it was, I was taking the most circuitous route I could think of and avoiding any sort of a trail.

  After making sure that I hadn’t been followed, I changed my skin tone and hair to match the darkness and began moving in earnest. By the time I’d reached the clearing, Dallin was waiting for me.

  “Caillte, what’s wrong? I thought we weren’t meeting until later.”

  I just shook my head and threw myself in his arms, sobbing. I’d held it back for too long and I just couldn’t think anymore. All I could do was cry and let someone take care of me, even if just for a little bit.

  Dallin held me close and rocked me gently, saying nothing. He was just there, allowing me to pour out every emotion I’d held in for the past fifteen years. Finally, when I began to calm, he picked me up and settled on a log with me in his lap.

  “Feel a bit calmer?” he murmured, still rocking me slightly.

  I nodded. “S-she… They s-said she w-w-was d-dead.”

  He froze. “Snow?” When I nodded, he sighed. “So that’s what she meant.”

  I blinked and pulled back far enough to see him.

  “She sent me a letter two days ago. Two, actually. One of them is for you, but she told me not to give it to you until you were given devastating news. Or in a week. Whichever came first.” Dallin reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a letter with the word ‘Mama’ scrawled across the top.

  I reached for it and eagerly tore it open.

  Mama,

  By now you’ve probably heard about my death. Well, my second death. It was about as successful as the first one. Turns out, allergies can save lives! Anyway, I’m sorry. We couldn’t tell you and risk Father realizing it hadn’t taken. I’m safe, healthy, and touring the country with an illusion of my body in a glass coffin and an illusion of someone else hiding my identity. Send me a response when you get this so I don’t have to worry. And make sure to give the captain a hug from me and a kiss from you.

  Love,

  Your little light

  A broken laugh tore from my chest. “If she’s teasing me, she must be fine. But if that girl 'dies' again, I swear...”

  “What is she teasing you about?”

  I blinked and felt my face catch fire as I realized just where I was. “Nothing,” I squeaked before trying to casually stand up. Unfortunately, Dallin’s arm was still around my waist and it tightened just enough to keep me seated.

  “Stay. I like this.” The smile in his voice made me duck my head, but I didn’t try to get up. I still needed his strength.

  “She’s okay,” I told him after a few minutes of silence. “Something about her allergies saving her life. I’m not sure what it means, but I’m leaving it alone. All I care about is that she’s okay and that her father believes that she died.”

  He nodded. “It makes sense. The man doesn’t have a reason to go after someone who’s already dead.”

  “He still might. They’re using the ‘death’ to keep traveling. Showing off a fake body in a glass coffin.” The morbid image wouldn’t leave my head, particularly not after the discussion at dinner. My husband had asked Bekins to describe the scene and it was less than pleasant but oddly poetic. He seemed particularly interested in how the sun made the glass sparkle and gave her an ‘ethereal aspect’.

  “We need to speed this up,” I declared.

  Dallin looked down at me, his color-changing eyes searching my own. “What?”

  “We need to drain his magic faster. I know you said that it would be over by mid-winter, but he got too close this time. There’s no telling what else he will figure out. We have to push him out of his comfort zone, get him anxious and force him to make mistakes. If he’s looking at his magic, he won’t be looking for the people organizing a rebellion.”

  We sat in silence, each thinking about the possibilities, trying to figure out how to make things move faster.

  “There is one option,” Dallin ventured. “You could ask the mirror.”

  I blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “It should be close enough to sentience to understand. And, well, it does like you. Actually, it loves you. You are considered family.”

  My jaw dropped and I tried to find something to say. Finally, I settled on, “How do you know?”

  He chuckled. “The tests we ran. They were pretty conclusive on that point. Actually, part of the tests we did on the mirror were to have Rumplestiltskin talk to it. He’s an expert on magic mirrors, as you know, but what you don’t know is that he can actually discern their emotions, even before they have actual thoughts. It’s a handy skill. We didn’t tell you before because most people are uncomfortable when they find out that an object has attached to them.”

  I
bit my lip but nodded anyway. “I’ll try it. It can’t hurt. But we should come up with another option too.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I waited for a few more minutes before forcing myself to stand up. I needed to get back before Bekins started to wonder. “Thank you, Dallin. And, good night, I guess.”

  He smiled at me and kissed my cheek, very close to my lips. “Good night, my queen. And when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”

  Needless to say, I blushed the whole way home.

  ~

  Talking to the mirror went surprisingly well. It turns out that one of the steps to sentience is for the magic to communicate moods through colors tinting the glass. It was pretty typical in it’s choices of hues. Red was angry, blue was sad, purple was anxious, and a golden-yellow was happy. It had also learned how to answer simple yes and no questions. ‘Yes’ was a clearer picture and ‘no’ was darker one.

  When I asked for it to be more aggressive toward the king and his magic, I was nearly blinded by the emphatic response. Also, I’m fairly sure that some of those colors don’t exist.

  Regardless, it was obviously working. My husband had started showing up more frequently again, but it was never something easy to track. He tried to avoid a schedule so he could keep me on my toes.

  Sometimes he’d show up and leave on the same day. Other times he’d stay for a few days. Sometimes the visits were days apart and other times he’d show up the next day. It never went longer than a week though and he seemed to be rather anxious about something.

  Also, the king talked to me at length about the mysterious door under the stairs, about how important it was for me to not open it. Sometimes he told me about how angry he would be if I opened it. Other times he tried to pretend that it wasn’t a big deal but he was hiding a gift for me down there. Every visit brought at least one new tactic but they were fairly repetitive on the whole. It all boiled down to ‘don’t open the door, but please do’.