by Shannon Hale
“That was close,” said Apple.
“Nice belt?” said Raven.
“You know, because an eight looks like a zero squeezed in at the middle?”
“Oh, okay. That’s kind of funny.” Raven pulled the blanket off the mirror.
“That,” said her mother, “was the height of disrespect.” She shuddered. “Now, you need my help. My price is conversation and involvement. I’m bored, and your little problem has a solution just sneaky enough to be interesting.”
“Wait, we haven’t even told you what’s going on,” Raven said.
The queen sighed as if exhausted. “Your dearest lunatic friend Maddie is being banished for something she didn’t mean to do, and you need to convince that worm Milton Grimm that he’s wrong.”
Apple and Raven stared.
“How—?” Raven started.
“Since there’s no way to force change in Uncle Milty,” the queen continued, “well… there is, but I’m thinking you aren’t willing to shove a parasitic worm into his brain, correct?”
“Correct,” said Raven.
Apple nodded, adding a quiet “gross.”
“So. You need to show him and the rest of that petty faculty the whole picture. They need to see what happened from every point of view and convince themselves of the truth of the matter. You need Irrefutable Evidence.”
“We have this book,” Apple said, holding up volume “I.”
“Is that Auntie Aesop’s ridiculous Complete Compendium? Ugh. Not only is she a complete bore, I know from personal experience that she cheats at cards. Anyhoo, I already know the spell, and I’ll teach it to you. Then you can drop that truth bomb in Grimm’s face and laugh as he cringes at the realization of his own ignorance!”
“It’s not an actual bomb, though, is it?” Apple asked.
“No! That’s a metaphor, my little fruit bat. Don’t they teach you anything in that school?”
“We know what a metaphor is, Mom. We’re just making sure.”
“Well, yes, there’s making sure, and then there’s being a fool. But, no, it is not an actual bomb. Just a simple revisualization of the event.”
“Is it like a reenactment that you can run on a mirror?” Apple asked. “That plays back a view of what was in front of that mirror earlier?”
“Clever little rose hip. If I wasn’t boxed in here, I’d pinch your cheek. It’s just like that. In the way that mortar and sludge are just like a castle.”
Raven sighed. This was typical of her mother: insults hidden in praise.
“She means that a mirror reenactment is similar, but a lot simpler,” Raven explained.
“Oh. Okay. This might be a Mirror Networking problem, then,” Apple said. “Something for a network reflectioneer to handle, not a sorceress.”
The queen’s eyes flashed purple, and Raven’s mirror actually shook a little.
“Silence!” the queen bellowed, pointing at Apple. “And pay attention. You might actually learn to live a life rather than play a Silly! Tedious! Role!”
Apple cringed.
“Mother! Enough!” said Raven. “This is my friend! You are doing us a favor, I know. But please try to be civil!”
The fire in the queen’s eyes quenched, and she smiled in a way that Raven very rarely saw—a comforting, genuine way.
“There’s my girl,” the queen whispered.
Raven took an involuntary step back, not sure whether to be glad of or worried by her mother’s approval.
“This spell doesn’t use actual mirrors,” the queen said calmly, as if nothing untoward had happened. “You need the mirrors of the soul, the eyes of those who witnessed the event.” She held up a hand. “Before you ask, no, you don’t need to remove anyone’s actual eyeballs.”
Apple and Raven exhaled in relief.
“But you will need specific ingredients to make it work. Unfortunately, I can’t actually tell you what they are.”
“What? That’s a joke, right?”
“If it had been a joke, it would have been better than that zero-with-a-belt monstrosity. No. The conditions of my imprisonment prevent me from ‘casting spells or through my specific words causing spells to be cast.’ ”
Raven groaned. “Could you at least try?”
“Hat airing,” said the queen, “bic spudow, ullrag donks, wise pat, liny agaught, and lastly, a ep.” She winced as she spoke, finally bowing her head, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Was that some kind of Faerie language?” Raven asked.
“No,” Apple said. “That’s the filter. The mirror encryption enforcing the rules. She probably did tell us the ingredients, but they came through garbled.”
“Precisely,” the queen said, rubbing between her eyebrows. “And I am punished personally by a demon of a headache for even trying.”
“How about a riddle?” Raven said. “Give us riddles for each one, and we’ll figure them out on our own.”
The queen quirked a half smile. “Perfect. I love this game.”
Apple tore a sheet of parchment from her spiral scroll notebook and handed it to Raven.
“Write down the riddles.”
“I could just record it on my MirrorPhone and save the parchment?” said Raven.
“That would be a bad idea,” Apple and the Evil Queen said at the same time. Apple looked at the mirror, shocked. The queen raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Raven said. “Why?”
“Because the phone is connected to the Mirror Network,” Apple said, pulling her gaze away from the queen. “The stuff on it might be accessible to someone who knows what they’re doing. Like Humphrey or Dexter—”
“Or the school administrator—exactly.” The queen tilted her head, smiling at Apple and batting her lashes. “Are you sure you’re Snow White’s daughter? Not adopted or anything?”
“Mother!” Raven said.
“Yes. I’m sure,” Apple said, pushing a lock of blond hair behind her ear.
“Ugh!” Raven sputtered. “Just give us the riddles, okay?”
“Advice first, or risk the failure of everything you attempt.”
Apple scooted closer, notebook and pen ready to take notes.
“In this endeavor you search for truth,” the queen said. “This is truth: If you seek help from others, expect to fail.”
“So we’ve already failed,” Raven said.
“Because you sought me out?” said her mother. “Don’t be a fool, girl. Despite what Milty Grimm says, there are no rules in life. But I am keenly observant, and I notice what happens and which patterns repeat themselves. Take this advice for what it’s worth: If you wish to succeed, depend on no one but yourself.”
“Okay, but—” Raven started.
The Evil Queen interrupted. “And without question, in no way and by no means let Madeline Hatter know what you are doing. Do this, if not for my sake, for your father’s, who would weep unpleasantly over the scraps of his daughter left after a spell gone bad.”
Raven stared. “Not tell Maddie? Why?”
“Oh, you know how these things work,” said her mother. “Once upon a time, the brave sister must weave seven shirts out of stinging nettles in order to change her brothers back from swans and do it without speaking a word. Blah-blah goody-two-shoe nonsense, but sometimes a spell does require silence, so not a word—spoken, written, even thought—to Madeline Hatter.”
“But—” Raven started.
“Got it,” said Apple. “The riddles now, please?”
“Very well,” the queen said. “I will give you six riddles, one for each ingredient of the spell. The first is this: Willow tree and whispers three…”
WILLOW TREE
AND WHISPERS THREE
TOGETHER MAKE A TASTY TEA
IN FORESTS THEY DO GLOW
WHENCE WE DO NOT KNOW
BUT IN THE TEAPOT THEY WILL GO
APPLE READ THE FIRST RIDDLE ALOUD over and over as she and Raven left the school, crossed the Troll Bridge, and ente
red the Village of Book End. The cobblestone main street was mostly empty, the shop fronts quiet, doors closed, as if the village were in mourning. The news of Maddie’s banishment must have already spread.
“Whispers three, whispers three…” Raven muttered. “Glowing in forests… curses, I can’t make sense of it. You know who is really good at solving riddles?”
“Maddie,” said Apple. “And we can’t ask her. How about Kitty Cheshire? She’s a Wonderlandian, too. I bet she’s royally good at riddles.”
“But she’s terrible at keeping secrets,” said Raven. “How about Lizzie Hearts?”
“Well, your mom said not to ask for help.”
“I wish—” Raven started.
“I know,” said Apple. “Further proof that Maddie is indispensable! We can’t risk asking her, but we should go to the tea shop, anyway. The riddle mentions tea twice. It’s our best clue.”
“But… but Maddie will be there all day with her dad, and imagine how she’ll feel when we can’t talk to her.”
“Raven, we’re doing this for her, and if telling her would break the spell…”
Raven stopped before the red front door of the Mad Hatter of Wonderland’s Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe. She took a deep breath.
“Okay, but this is going to be terrible, because not only can’t we talk to Maddie at all… well, we can’t even risk thinking about the spell while we’re with her.”
Apple wrinkled her nose. “What?”
“Maddie sometimes hears, um, a voice she calls the Narrator, and that ‘Narrator’ reports on what people are thinking.”
“Wait, we can’t think about what we’re doing around Maddie because then a voice will tell Maddie what we’re thinking and the spell will break?”
Apple smiled, expecting Raven to say she was kidding. Raven nodded. Apple lost her smile.
“Clear your thoughts,” Raven said.
Apple let her mind go blank and opened the door.
The first thing she noticed was the quiet. Usually the tea shop was full of chatting customers, their conversations like the harmony to the melody of piping teakettles and clinking silverware.
The Mad Hatter was sitting at one of the empty tables. His large, black-and-white-striped top hat in his hands, his thinning mint-green hair exposed.
“No room! We’re closed!” he called out.
He was always shouting silly things like that, but this time Apple believed him.
“Oh, it’s you, Raven Queen.” The Mad Hatter smiled wide around his bucked front teeth. “How is a Raven like a writing desk?”
“Neither is able to feel happy today,” said Raven.
The Mad Hatter nodded, and his smile slipped away. “I’m going with her, of course. Closing up shop. Do you think they like tea in Neverland?”
Apple tried to imagine the pirates, mermaids, and Indians in Neverland drinking tea out of dainty cups. Maddie’s destiny to become the next Mad Hatter of Wonderland had already been severely compromised when the portal to Wonderland was sealed. At least in Ever After she and her father had been able to continue their destiny by opening the tea shop. But in Neverland…
“We were hoping to get some tea from you just now,” said Raven. “Do you know what kind of tea would involve willows and whispers and glowing in forests?”
“Ah, will o’ the wisps tea!” said the Mad Hatter. “An exotic brew. Never made any in the shop… always meant to…” He looked around wistfully at the walls covered in doors, the empty tables set for a teatime that wouldn’t come. “I’ll just go fetch my copy of Recipes for Teas, Tales, and Time.”
The Mad Hatter went into the kitchen just as Maddie came out. Apple stiffened. She heard Raven squeak.
“Raven!” Maddie hopped over to them on one foot. “And Apple White. I knew you’d stay with me on my last day. I knew you didn’t forget about me after I hopped off.”
Raven shook her head but pressed her lips together.
“Sometimes I hop when I’m sad,” Maddie explained to Apple. “Because it’s hard to stay sad when you’re hopping. Your feet bounce your middle and your middle wants to laugh. Try it!”
Apple stood on one leg and hopped. She didn’t feel like laughing.
“Raven, are you gloomy and goosey again?” said Maddie. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be okay. In Neverland. With the—ah—ah—ACHOO! Excuse me. With all the pirates and things. I just… I’ll miss you so much. When I think about it, I want to…”
Maddie screwed up her face as if fighting off tears. She took a deep breath, bent one leg, and hopped madly around the room. She returned with her smile again in place.
“Hey, why are you girls so quiet?”
Apple cleared her thoughts, focusing on anything other than—no, she wouldn’t think it. Instead, she’d think about bunnies. Cute, little, fuzzy bunnies with wiggly noses.
“Apple, why do you keep thinking about bunnies?” Maddie asked.
Apple cleared her thoughts. Bunnies, bunnies, bunnies…
Maddie giggled. “I love bunnies, too. Are you trying to cheer me up?”
BUNNIES. BUNNIES. THINKING ABOUT BUNNIES. Apple felt a light sweat begin to glisten on her forehead.
“Something strange is going on,” Maddie said, squinting through one eye. “Narrator? Why are they acting squirrelly? Like squirrels without hats even?”
Maddie tried to get the Narrator to explain, but the Narrator’s job was to observe, not spoil secrets.
“Secrets?” asked Maddie. “What secrets?”
Just what Raven and Apple were… um… Bunnies. So many bunnies.
“Narrator?” said Maddie, shocked. “You too?”
“Here it is!” the Mad Hatter said, returning from the kitchen. “I found the recipe in this book. And I found the book in a hat. And I found the hat in a closet. And I found the closet under the table, though how the closet got under there I’ll never know.”
Apple read the recipe as quickly as she could. She had to get out of there soon or she would—
BUNNIES. BUNNIES!
Apple handed the book back to Maddie’s dad, and she and Raven turned to leave.
“You’re leaving?” said Maddie. “You’re just going? But… but I… I was hoping—”
Apple didn’t look back. BUNNIES. She ran outside, Raven following, both breathing heavily as if they’d been holding their breath as well as their thoughts. They kept running down the block till the tea shop was out of sight. Raven sat on the edge of a fountain and covered her face with her hands.
“Did you see Maddie’s face?” said Raven. “She thought that I didn’t care.”
“Let’s get this over with fast so you can explain,” said Apple. “According to the recipe, we’re going to need to find will o’ the wisps in the Enchanted Forest and make them into tea, which could take hours, and this is just the first item of six. We’d better split up.”
Raven nodded. “I agree. We have less than a day to solve all the riddles, collect the items, learn the spell, and use it to defend Maddie.”
“Right. So, I’ll go chase will o’ the wisps?” Apple asked. “And you can tackle the next incomprehensible item on the list.”
Apple waved good-bye and ran. Every minute she took crossing the school grounds, the footbridge, and the meadow toward the Enchanted Forest was one minute less in the day. She tried not to think about the Kingdom Management quiz the day after tomorrow, or that paper due in Damsels-In-Distressing, or that work sheet for Experimental Fairy Math she was supposed to be doing, or—
Maddie. Right now, Maddie is more important than protecting perfect grades. A good ruler thinks first of her own subjects. Uh, people subjects, not school subjects. Hocus focus, Apple!
The moment she crossed under the canopy and into the shadows of the Enchanted Forest, a white fluffy streak slammed into her chest, knocking her to the ground.
“Gala!” said Apple. “I missed you, too.”
In all the drama after Legacy Day and then Yester Da
y, she hadn’t taken time to come visit her pet in the Enchanted Forest. The snow fox nuzzled into Apple’s neck and then ran a circuit from atop her head down her arm, up the other arm and over her head again several times, finally stopping to perch on Apple’s knee. Apple looked into Gala’s shiny black eyes.
“Gala, sweetie, I’m trying to find a will o’ the wisp. Can you help?”
Gala reached forward to touch her cold black nose to Apple’s, then she launched herself off Apple’s knee and began to run. Apple followed her loping white shape deeper and deeper into the forest. The shadows were so dark they gleamed purple.
Purple, like her eyes… Apple thought, shuddering.
The Evil Queen made Apple nervous, but that was only natural—after all, that’s how the Snow White story went. Then again, she hadn’t been quite as scary as she’d imagined. She was just Raven’s mother, right? She was helping them, wasn’t she? Besides, as evil as she was, the Evil Queen was still an elder with a lot of knowledge and experience, and Apple thought it wise to learn what she could. From the Greatest Evil There Ever Was. As she went about on her errands. Collecting spell ingredients.
Apple gulped. And hoped she was on the right path after all. But how could she know for sure when everything had gone so totally off script?
The only surety, the only safety at all, was in following her destiny. And Apple would do everything she could to protect not only her own destiny but also everyone else’s—including Maddie’s.
Up ahead was a clearing with a grand gray willow tree at each end. From afar Apple could see a glowing sphere about the size of a baseball bobbing above the ground on a breeze. Suddenly it disappeared. Apple had spotted these will o’ the wisps in the past, but until reading that passage in the Mad Hatter’s recipe book, she hadn’t understood what they were.
Faerie is a realm alongside our own, invisible to most. Only its residents—fairies, pixies, sprites, and such—move freely between it and Ever After. Sometimes, on full moon nights or right after a rainfall, one may catch a breath of Faerie flowers, their rich scents passing briefly into our world. Besides Faerie’s residents and the occasional aromas, another traveler from There to Here are the will o’ the wisps.