The 10th Kingdom

by Kathryn Wesley

  Virginia looked away from him. “She just left home. Wouldn’t you if you were married to my dad? They were totally different people. You’ve met my grandmother. My mother was like that. It was a complete mismatch. They should have never got married. Anyway, it was a long time ago.”

  “Where is she now?” Wolf asked.

  All this probing was beginning to give her a headache. “I haven’t a clue and I couldn’t care less.”

  “You don’t wonder what she’s like?”

  She knew what her mother was like, just from her mother’s actions so long ago. Her mother was a cold woman who only cared about herself. “She could have got back in touch if she’d wanted, but she hasn’t and that’s fine. She doesn’t want me. I’m not going to waste energy thinking about her.”

  “Oh,” Wolf said. He was apparently beginning to understand that Virginia found this to be a touchy subject.

  “Oh, what?” Virginia asked.

  “Just oh,” Wolf said. “Oh, as in a noncommittal, encouraging noise. Try not to comment as you listen, as my very good self-help books tell me.”

  She sneezed. He stroked her hair. It felt good.

  “You must do something magnificent with your life,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah?” Virginia asked. “Why?”

  “Because your hurt is very great,” Wolf said.

  She yanked her hair out of his grasp. “They just split up, all right? Doesn’t that ever happen where you come from?” “Of course not,” Wolf said. “We either live happily ever after or get killed by horrible curses.”

  That deflated her anger a bit. She put her hair back within his reach. He took it as if nothing had happened.

  After a moment, he asked, “You don’t trust anybody?”

  “I don’t trust you, no,” Virginia said.

  That didn’t seem to surprise him. “Well, maybe you won’t get hurt,” he said. ‘ ‘But huff-puff, you won’t get loved either.”

  Virginia snorted. “Love is such bullshit. Love is just what people say they feel because they’re frightened of being on their own.”

  “I see,” Wolf said.

  The flatness of his voice caught her attention. She turned to him. He really was a handsome man. She had noticed that from the first. Handsome in a rakish sort of way.

  “Have you got anything to say about that?” Virginia asked.

  “Nope,” Wolf said.

  But she knew he did. And he was telling her without words.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Dog Prince was tucked in bed, his hands curved like paws over the covers. In this light, he looked almost... cute. The Queen gazed fondly at him. He had really been a very good dog.

  She only wished she could make him a better prince.

  “You remember how I told you where I got my magic?” the Queen asked.

  ‘ ‘From the nasty stepmother in the swamp?’ ’ the Dog Prince said.

  ‘‘Well, when she was dead and I had mastered her mirrors,’ ’ the Queen said, “I went to the White Castle. By this time Snow White herself was long dead, and her only son had married, and he himself had a newborn son, Prince Wendell.”

  “That’s me,” the Dog Prince said.

  ‘ ‘Exactly. I became his nursemaid, and over three long years I slowly poisoned his mother, the Queen, and then for three more years I comforted the heartbroken King, and then married him. When I was called the Queen for the first time it made me feel, well ... at home.”

  She could remember how good that felt as if it had happened just yesterday. When she became Queen, she had known almost immediately that she needed more.

  “I was already slowly poisoning Wendell’s father,” she said, “and soon he too had died, and little Wendell, the last of the House of White, was the one remaining barrier to my absolute power.”

  With her right hand, she stroked the Dog Prince’s face. He leaned into it the way he used to do when he was a dog.

  “But my plan was discovered, and Wendell survived, and I was thrown in prison for ten thousand years. Thank goodness they abolished the death penalty, that’s all I can say.”

  She leaned over and tenderly kissed the Dog Prince good night. Then she reached for the lamp, pausing for just a moment.

  “I’ll bet,” she said softly, “he certainly wishes he’d killed me now.”

  She was warm for the first time in days, and she was sleeping on a soft bed. It felt very good. It felt... hairy.

  Virginia’s eyes fluttered. As she opened them, she stared at the ceiling trying to remember where she was. She rolled over and saw that she was on a sea of hair.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh, my God.”

  “What?” Wolf said, waking up. “What? Goodness me. Cripes.”

  The hair was in all the rooms, going up the stairs. She had never seen so much hair in her life.

  “It’s everywhere,” Virginia said.

  Wolf stared at it as if he’d never seen anything like it. She hadn’t. She was beginning to hyperventilate. He put his hands on her shoulders.

  “We’ll solve this,” he said. Then he shouted for her father. After a few moments, Tony came out of the upstairs room— and slipped on her hair. He slid partway down the stairs, catching himself with his arms on the banister.

  For a moment, he stared at the sea of hair; then he ran back upstairs. Virginia felt abandoned, but only for a moment. He came down with a pair of garden shears.

  “Let’s take this outside,” Wolf said. He helped her through all the hair. It took some work to remove the furniture from the door, but they managed.

  The morning was as bright as mornings got in this awful forest. Wolf grabbed an axe and helped Virginia near a tree.

  “Stay still,” he warned.

  She nodded. He brought the axe down on her hair again and again. Nothing happened.

  She looked over her shoulder. Wolf was now using a handsaw. He brought it back and forth, and stopped as the teeth came off.

  “Oh, no,” she murmured.

  “Try this,” her father said, extending the shears to Wolf.

  Wolf shook his head. He seemed to be looking for something else.

  Her father came close to her and crouched beside her. He tried cutting her hair from the back. She could hear the shears working, but she knew he was having no luck. He was making that awful sound he made when he was trying too hard.

  “It’s no good,” Tony said. “Nothing cuts through it.”

  She had known that, but she hadn’t really known it. She brought her hands to her face. The panic she’d been feeling since the hair started growing had gotten worse.

  “What if it never stops growing?” Virginia asked. “I’m going to die of long hair.”

  Through her fingers, she saw her father and Wolf exchange a worried glance. For all their bravado, they were as frightened as she was.

  She began to shake.

  “Don’t despair,” a voice said.

  She looked up. One of the magic birds was sitting in an apple tree near them.

  “Because you saved my life,” the magic bird said, “I will tell you how to cut your hair.”

  She let out a small breath. Hope. “Please.”

  “Deep in the forest,” the bird said, “there is a Woodsman with a magic axe that, when swung, never fails to cut whatever it hits, and it will cut your hair and cure the curse.”

  The bird then spread its wings and flew off before Virginia could say thank you.

  “Let’s get going,” Wolf said. “Before Virginia’s hair gets too long to move.”

  She gave him a frightened glance. She hadn’t thought of that.

  “Something about this place is making me ravenous,” Tony said.

  He reached up and plucked a beautiful red apple. He opened his mouth to take a bite and Wolf shouted, “Tony, no! What are you doing? Don’t eat that apple.”

  Her father held the apple out in front of him and turned to Wolf. “Why not?”

  “Think where yo
u are,” Wolf said. “Snow White’s cottage.”

  “Yeah, so?” Tony asked.

  “This apple tree has probably grown from the pips of the apple that poisoned her.”

  Virginia’s breath caught in her throat. Her father threw the apple away, obviously disappointed.

  “Boy,” he said, “you can’t be too careful in this place.” “Come along,” Wolf said. “We have much to do if we are to keep up with the mirror.”

  The mirror. Virginia looked at him. With the hair crisis, she had forgotten all about it. She stood, hoping that this news about the Woodsman would turn their luck to the better.

  Wolf was getting nervous. Their progress through the woods was painfully slow. Virginia’s hair kept getting caught, and all three of them spent more time untangling it than they did walking. And to make matters worse, for the last hour or so, Wolf kept smelling something new in the air.

  It was getting closer.

  “I’ve got a scent,” Wolf said. “I’m sure it is the Huntsman. He’s near. We must move faster.”

  “I can’t go any faster,” Virginia said.

  “Virginia,” Wolf said, “this man is going to catch us, within the hour at most.”

  “What are we going to do?” Tony asked.

  Virginia tried to free her hair from a bush. Wolf looked at it, and knew that running was out of the question. He paced back and forth, thinking for a moment. For the first time on this adventure, he was out of ideas.

  Then, suddenly, he knew. “I will hide you and then lead him away. I can lose him.”

  “Wait a minute,” Tony said. “How do we know you’ll come back?”

  “Because my life is dedicated to making love to your daughter.”

  Tony’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

  Wolf ignored him. Reluctant fathers were a luxury at the moment. “The Huntsman is very good,” Wolf said. “But he follows tracks. He cannot smell things like an animal. I will lead him in a big circle and come back for you tomorrow. Hurry. We will start with the Prince.”

  It took Wolf most of that hour to cover Prince Wendell, Tony, and Virginia with leaves and twigs. Prince Wendell proved the hardest. Every time Wolf thought he had finished, he saw another glint of gold.

  “That’s as good as I can do,” Wolf said, finally. “Okay?”

  There was a slight movement among the leaves and a hand—Virginia’s, beautiful and small—rose up and gave a small wave. Then Tony’s larger hand rose from ten feet away. Wolf half expected Wendell to raise a golden paw.

  “Don’t breathe at all until I return.”

  The hands disappeared and Wolf checked the area to make sure all trace of the three was gone. No footprints, no sneaky strands of hair, nothing.

  He nodded once, then bounded off, intent on leaving a trail even the dumbest hunter could follow.

  Virginia’s eyes itched. Her nose was twitching too. The leaves had an autumnal smell and beneath it, mold. Mold had been bothering her ever since they got into this forest. She was mildly allergic to it, and the allergy seemed to be growing worse. She had sneezed a lot in Snow White’s cottage, and she was breathing shallowly now to prevent another sneeze.

  She wished she could talk with her father. He was only a few feet away and she couldn’t even hear him. She was too keyed up to fall asleep. Besides, she was afraid she’d snore or talk or shift in her sleep.

  And she was worried about her hair. She wasn’t sure how she would keep it hidden. It had filled the cottage the night before. She was worried it would fill this part of the forest by the time Wolf returned.

  Funny, she had no doubts about him. She knew he’d be back. He was sincere in his comment to her father. Wolf would be coming back for her.

  Then she stiffened. There was a different sound in the forest. Not quite footsteps. The dry leaves, rustling in the slight breeze, were simply rustling more. She wondered if that was her imagination working overtime, or if it was something she had to worry about.

  There were other creatures in the forest. But she knew that this was the Huntsman. She didn’t know how she knew. Maybe being around Wolf had finely tuned her sense of smell. But something in the sound—its regular rhythm, perhaps—told her that someone was trying to be very, very quiet.

  The leaves didn’t exactly cover her eyes. She could see if she squinted. As she watched, a tall blond man appeared. She tried to hold her breath, but her heart was beating faster. It was hard to be quiet, suddenly, when it was really and truly important.

  The itch in her eyes grew, and the desire to sneeze grew with it. She held her breath, hoping that would work.

  The Huntsman—for who else could this stately man with the magnificent crossbow be?—stopped. For one frightening moment, Virginia thought perhaps he was standing on her father. Then she saw her father’s eyes glinting from beneath the leaves. Virginia prayed that the Huntsman didn’t see what she did.

  Instead, he peered at the ground. He appeared to be following a trail of some sort. He walked slowly toward her, and she saw what he saw—a strand of hair poking out of the leaves.

  Damn. She had known that was going to happen. She willed her hair to stop growing, but it didn’t.

  The Huntsman walked closer and closer until he came up beside her. His right boot landed near her face. He continued past her. She heard leaves rustle as he went deeper into the wood. In a moment, she would be safe.

  Unfortunately , that thought made her breathe a little deeper and the sneeze she’d stifled came. She was unable to stop it. The sound exploded in the woods, and she actually heard the startled squawk of birds as they flew away.

  She sat up. It was over now. “Run, Dad! Run!”

  She managed to get to her feet just as her father bolted down the path. He was a tall man and he managed to get ahead of her quickly. As he did, he swore.

  Virginia ran quietly, but as fast as she could. She felt as if she weighed five thousand pounds. The hair was a handicap, a serious one. It made her twice as heavy as she should be.

  She didn’t hear any footsteps behind her. Up ahead, she could see her father, blazing a fairly obvious trail. She ran faster and faster.

  Suddenly something pulled on her head and knocked her feet out from under her. She landed on her back. The air left her body in a painful rush. It took a moment for her to realize what had happened.

  Her hair had snagged on something.

  She turned and saw, at least forty feet away, that her hair hadn’t snagged on anything at all. The Huntsman was standing on the ends of it, holding his crossbow, and smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Huntsman was dragging Virginia by her hair. Her back hurt and she twisted around, trying to gain purchase on the ground. She couldn’t. If the stories about cavemen bopping their women over the head and dragging them back to their caves by their hair was true, Virginia had no idea why those poor women didn’t revolt. This had to be the most painful thing she had ever experienced.

  “Stop it!” Virginia shouted. “You’re hurting me.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. Finally he stopped, though, and pulled her to her feet.

  They stood in front of a massive oak covered in ivy. He reached up and pressed the side. The ivy rose with a rustling sound, and then a door opened inward.

  The scent of fresh wood mixed with old blood wafted out. Virginia’s heart beat even faster.

  The Huntsman pulled her inside, and then the door closed. Virginia couldn’t even see the lines of where it had been.

  He let go of her hair. She reached to the nape of her neck and rubbed. The area throbbed. He lit a small lantern, and she could see where she was.

  It was a small room, filled with a butcher’s block—bloodstained—many knives, obviously used, and a wooden floor covered with feathers and skin and dark blood. There were animal carcasses stretched out on various boards. Some hung upside down. There were bloodstains around the necks.

  Virginia could hear her own shallo
w breathing. She was

  terrified, and she couldn’t help it. Somehow she knew that this man knew of her terror too, and probably enjoyed it.

  “Why is your hair so long?” His voice startled her. It was soft and deep and cultured, not at all what she had expected. “I think I upset the Gypsies,” Virginia said.

  He nodded, as if this were not unexpected news. “They will not trouble you again.”

  She did not find this reassuring. She looked at his hands. They had something dark, probably blood, crusted under the nails. Had he killed the Gypsies for trespassing in his woods? Or did he mean, by that cryptic statement, that she would die soon?

  He picked up a knife. Virginia felt herself shiver. Then he grabbed one of the carcasses—it was a rather large rabbit— and sliced it from chin to tail.

  “I rear animals to be killed,” the Huntsman said. “I raise a thousand pheasants every year. I fatten them, I care for them in the winter when there is no food. From a thousand, perhaps two dozen will escape the hunt. That is as it should be. Everything must have a chance.”

  His tone was flat. Even though he spoke of chances, Virginia had a hunch he didn’t believe in them. She wondered if this was what serial killers were like.

  He separated the rabbit’s flesh from its bones with his fingers, then sliced again with the knife.

  “Please let me go,” Virginia said. “What do you want from me? I’m not involved in this.”

  “Where is the dog?”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Make me ask again and I will skin you.”

  The rabbit skin dropped to the floor. She didn’t know how he had done that so fast.

  “I think he’s dead,” Virginia said.

  The Huntsman’s pale eyes met hers. “You’re lying, but you’re not lying. Is he hurt? You were dragging something on wheels, yet the tracks were too deep for the weight of just a dog.”

  Suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her toward him until they were mere inches apart. He stank of fresh blood.

  “The others,” he said. “Will they leave you or come looking for you?”

  “Me?” Virginia said, trying to make her lie sound convincing. “They don’t give a damn about me.”